My Life Story

I was given a birthday gift, by some good friends of mine, that is a rather weighty tome entitled “My Life Story”. It is, effectively, a 100-year diary – a place to record all the events of your life.

This seems a particularly appropriate gift for me. I’ve been keeping a diary since I was nine years old. I also have this blog, of course, which in many ways is just an extension of that.

In this book there are two pages for each season, of each year. At the end of each ‘winter’ section there is a space for a photograph of yourself for that year. There are spaces throughout the book to note life ambitions, to write a letter to yourself in 10 years’ time, to note likes and dislikes, jobs held, education received, and such things. In short, it is indeed a book in which to record one’s life.

1970

Me at 14 months

So I have decided to do this properly, and start at the beginning. This is going to be a life long project – literally. Without even going into the parts of my life that haven’t happened yet, I have to compile the last 40 years as well. I have started by going back through my oldest photo album, for childhood pictures. Amongst the ones I have unearthed is the one I have included here, from Christmas 1970. It seems I was always a very serious child, even at a year old.

The only problem is, of course, I can see that compiling this life story might be quite absorbing. And going back through my life can bring up painful memories. It’s the adolescent years that are the most problematic. Between the years of 1983 and 1989 I was nothing more than a stroppy, angsty collection of teenage hormones, and no doubt not very pleasant to be around.

But of course, one of life’s lessons is the ability to accept the past and move on. I suspect I might be doing quite a lot of that as I work on this book.

It is, however, a very appropriate gift for me and I am grateful to my friends for choosing it. I look forward to exploring both my past and my future as I complete it.

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3 comments so far

  1. Yarnspnr on

    I’ve always felt my fantasy life was more interesting than my real live. Someone gave me a diary in the mid 60s. The first week I jotted down the important stuff for the day. By the second week I was writing about how the Russians were invading the east coast and entering Quakertown. Believe me, the latter was much more interesting than the former!

    • sayssara on

      For a writer I’ve always been quite literal minding. My early diary entries, as a youngster, consisted of things like, “Went to school. Came home. Went to Brownies. Came home.”

      When someone queries why I always put ‘came home’ after everything, my response was that I didn’t want anyone who might read it thinking I stayed at school all the time. I think I was 9 at the time.

  2. Yarnspnr on

    Yeah, Sara. Sounds like the diary entries of most pre-teens. Life seemed a bit boring and repetitious back then. Especially in rural areas. A lot of the people I knew couldn’t wait to get out of HS and go to college in the ‘big city.’


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