Who Read My Diary?

Some of the diaries I filled up through the years...

Who Read My Diary?




Rain and tears seem to be the trending subject of my blog these days. I talked to a teenaged girl today. I saw her crying in my room and I asked her what had happened.
"I can't believe she actually did it," she sobbed.
"Who? What?" I asked. I was very curious. I knew she was having a conflict with her mother, but I had no idea what hurtful thing she had done to make her cry.
The girl choked back a sob. "She read my diary...I can't believe she actually did it." She buried her face in her hands.


I wanted to hug her. I understood her pain.


I know some of you may think that reading someone else's diary is no big deal. But I also know that there are others like us who consider it sacrilege to even browse through the pages of another's journal. Why? You may ask. Why mourn over something like that? She read your diary. So what? It's just a book. Aren't books supposed to be read?


Well, to those who think we're overacting, let me try to explain why we react so violently whenever someone snoops into our journals.

The first page in my first journal
I wrote about a trip to the fair.

There are two types of social people on this planet -- the extroverts, and the introverts. The extroverts are those who I like to call WYSIWYG type of people. It's a common term. It simply means "what you see is what you get". Nothing is hidden. He is who he is. She is who she is. They say what they think. They show how they feel. They express themselves to the world, and the world knows them. The introverts, on the other hand, are secretive. They're careful about the things they say. Their hearts are locked and only few have the key. These few may be family or very close friends. An introvert will express herself to these people more freely. Yet, there are still many feelings which need to be expressed. Musicians write them in songs, poets write them in poems...sometimes writers write them in journals.



I was an still am an introvert. I did not like to express my thoughts and feelings all the time. I felt as if these thoughts would either be mocked, or judged, or despised. So when I felt something, I wrote it down. I even addressed my diary as I would a friend. I called her "Di". And I would write to her each night. I started writing in journals when I was seven years old. I was just learning English that time and I wrote only two to three sentences. Unfortunately, I lost that diary when we moved away. As I grew older, I learned to express myself more and more. As a little girl, I wrote down fun and special events--places we visited, friends we played with, and so on. But as I entered adolescence, I expressed myself more and more. When I felt insecure, I'd write. When I fought with my sister, I'd write. I wrote about my struggles, my sins, my repentance, my pain, my reflections, secret admirations, dreams, --I wrote about EVERYTHING. My high school exams, my college professors, and even about my very first boss in my very first work. No one else knows me as much as my diary.

1992 - My oldest journal.

I once described a journal as a reflection of my heart and soul. Now, how would you feel if someone were to rip open your chest and peer into the very core of your heart? More than uncomfortable, I tell you. I have to admit, if you really want to hurt me, all you have to do is read my diary. I'm just glad that trust is not an issue in this household. I don't even need locks for all 20 of them.


Perhaps some of you will say, "Ah...you're hiding something. If you had not written anything bad in your diary, you would not protect it so severely." If you're thinking that, let me say this. Even God did not give humans the power to read hearts and minds. We're a bunch of sinful people. We have sinful tendencies. We struggle with evil thoughts. Imagine what a chaotic world it would be if everyone had the power to see a person's heart and mind. On a smaller scale. Imagine how chaotic your family would be if you know what each one was thinking. This idea, however, also brought me to a realization, that God is full of patience and mercy. Because He has this power. To see our hearts and minds. To hear every complaint, see every selfish desire, and every nasty little thing that pops into our heads. He sees it, yet He still gives us time to ask Him to set things right.


I hope this pretty much explains why we react the way we do when our journals are read without our permission. I hope this will make you understand why we panic when a journal is missing or is not in its normal place. I've had moments like those and they always give me mini heart attacks. I've caught one in the act...forgave her after a few years. Hehe. You may think it strange. You may think it nerdy. But it's who we are. And there are more of us around you than you think.