Technology is rough sometimes.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the ease of many everyday tasks. I enjoy and take for granted being able to press a button and having the world at my fingertips. 

I’ve always been a writer, a documenter of things. I’ve always felt it so important to capture the memories and feeling and experience of life. 

Through my life, I’ve gone in and out of seasons of journaling. But about a year ago, I started journaling again. 

I’ve always been a traditional pen and paper girl. This time however, for the sake of ease and accessibility, I decided to just start keeping my entries in my Notes app on my iPhone. Since becoming a mother 13yrs ago, I’ve rarely been able to keep track of a notebook that didn’t get taken over by tiny artists. So, technology for the win — or so I thought. 

Last night was no exception. Just as I had done for the last year, I wrote my things down and poured out my heart. As I went to move my entry into the correct folder, I realized I had no folder. 

In fact, I had no files from the last year or more. Oh so many journal entries, sermon notes, random thoughts and big feelings, quotes from my children— you name it and I captured it in words — all gone! 

Evaporated. Nothing left. 

Maybe it sounds dramatic. 

It’s ridiculous how devastating that the loss of all those words were. But my writing is one thing that is really my own. 

Some people can draw, some people can cook, some people fix all the things. I meticulously hand pick my words for each occasion. I craft and curate them, I move them around. I try to capture the things of life and stick them to the paper, and make them flow like the northern lights in the sky to match what’s in my heart. I’m quite proud of that. 

So today, I feel a little invisible and frustrated. I feel like the pin in the map that said “Melly was here, and these are the things she saw and felt” got knocked off the wall. 

In the real world, I know I’m not invisible. 

I know the world has not fallen apart. 

Good things are still happening. 

I am loved. 

I am important. 

And I don’t have to stay in this sad slump. 

But in true Melly fashion, words are how I process and often move forward. 

So this post— that’s what this is. Letting go and moving on. Now to go out and buy a notebook and pens again. The wonders of technology can’t mess that up!