I woke up one day and I wanted to get away from the past. Get away from the mistakes. From the misery of what my life had become. I took my journals and I ripped them up. It was easy to do this because at the time I was writing on a writing pad and putting each piece of paper into a folder. If my journal had been in book form it would have been harder for me to rip apart (possibly) and I might not have gone so crazy. My thoughts were to leave the past behind and I felt emotionally cleansed after ripping up all the pages a few at a time.

I destroyed over 10 years of writing. 10 years of personal transformation in under an hour. Ripped up and in the bin it definitely seemed like the right thing to do. Then I stopped writing a journal. That was around 2007. I had been ill. It had taken me 18 months to get better and I was pissed off with life. Now, of course I regret it. There isn’t much in my life that I truly regret because I actually don’t believe in regret. It is a waste of energy. However, when I think about my lost journals I do get this twinge of wishing I had not done what I did. Then I let it go and remember that only now matters.

I picked up my journal again in 2009. Sometimes I come across stuff I had written down in books or on bits of paper but the majority of it has gone. It is a shame really because I went through some major transformations during that time. I needed to walk away from the past. I know my world as it is now in 2013 is very much surrounded by words, teaching English, blogging, eBooks, self-published books and everything to do with writing. This has always been my goal.