One of the things that I keep in the back of my mind while journaling is this idea that one day, my grandkids or great grandkids may be able to read them and know something about me. Sure my journal contains some of my inner most thoughts, but hey, when you’re dead, you probably won’t be embarrassed. Morbid, I know, but you get the point. I love this idea that bumping around in their attic they may uncover a dusty trunk full of notebooks that were passed down from their mom’s mom and so on. My journals not only keep me sane, they are my story. And who better to tell it than me?