I have had a complicated relationship with journaling all my life. Starting in elementary school and through early middle school, I was a pretty consistent journaler. I filled two journals within a few years, and wrote about once a week. The entries were hilarious to read back on; mostly they were just gushing over a boy I had a crush on or outlining what I did with my friend that day.
As long as I can remember, my mother and I have had a rocky relationship. We would have long stretches of times without any fights, and then out of nowhere, a fight would erupt and we’d go weeks or months without speaking to each other. Most of this occurred whenever I was in high school, but our problems never completely went away.
Last Wednesday, I received a phone call from my boss that my business was opening back up on Tuesday and I’d be starting back up at full time, just like before I left. I couldn’t believe it; I had been furloughed during the COVID-19 crisis and had just hit two months of being unemployed.
I used to be a fearless driver. In high school, I was the friend who picked everyone up and drove us to wherever we wanted to go. I would frequently drive hours in different areas of the state or surrounding states to visit friends and just explore. I loved driving and it was where I felt the most calm.