After my mother died, I found her journal and I read it.  This was a woman who had six kids, starting in the 1940s.  There were no second cars for her to go to the store, the gym or the salon.  No running out for fast food; dinner was on the table every night.  We didn't have a dryer, so clothes were hung on the line.  And her husband, my dad, never lifted a finger.  Maybe he was tired from working a 12 hour day, trying to keep us clothed and fed.  

But this journal was filled with how happy she was to have us, how she lived such a good life and how thankful she was.  There was nothing in it about the time I lied to her or talked back, or how I hated her because she wouldn't let me date at age 14.  Instead, she focused on my attributes and how she loved me and my siblings.  And what really stuck with me was how every morning as she drank her coffee, she would bring to mind a memory of each one of us, and re-live that moment.  

So to those who keep journals with all the negative thoughts and a list of "crimes" against you by your loved ones, start a NEW journal showing your gratitude and value for those who may have hurt you.

Sandy