About BeingBoswell

Interestingly and serendipitously as a result of naming this blog
to being Boswell, I found myself. My friend, Wikipedia, informed
me that my surname Boswell was passed into the English
Language in the 1800‘s to mean a constant companion and
observer of life, especially one who records those observations
through writing.

I have been writing stories or journaling since my first, locked,
with the tiniest key ever, diary was given to me in grade school. I
began my entries with Dear Diary. I quickly abandoned that
salutation when I realized I wanted to write to a reader, not to an
inanimate object. I longed to tell my version of life to someone. I
felt less alone conjuring a reader nodding his or her head in
shared recognition of an examined moment, possibly even
laughing or crying with me as I spilled my version of life onto the
page. I hoped my imaginary audience would feel less alone and
more understood as I exposed myself to self scrutiny.

So here I am, many, many years later, with the technological
creation of the über diary.

Being Boswell is a unique view of the everyday life. I use my own
life as my muse and my background as a psychotherapist as my
lens. Life is my teacher. I learn life’s lessons sometime gracefully.
Sometimes kicking and screaming. Eventually life wins and I write
from my surrender.

You will recognize yourself in my stories.

I am a work in progress…just being Boswell.

Who Am I?

I try to make a practice of answering the questions I ask myself. You know the ones. The rampant, seemly benign questions that run through your head at break neck speed. Often we don’t even hear ourselves asking them. As a therapist, I hear my clients questions of themselves. It is always easier to hear others questions.

 

So last week when I asked, “Who am I?” or, to be exact, “Who the hell am I?” I set out to answer myself, again.

 

Interestingly and serendipitously my answer came as a result of renaming this blog to being Boswell. My friend, Wikipedia, informed me that the surname Boswell was passed into the English Language as a term…Boswellian, Boswellism…meaning a constant companion and observer of life, especially one who records those observations through writing. Who knew?

 

I have been writing stories or journaling since my first, locked, with the tiniest key ever, diary was given to me in grade school. I began my entries with Dear Diary. I quickly abandoned that salutation when I realized I wanted to write to a reader, not to an inanimate object. I longed to tell my version of life to someone. I felt less alone conjuring a reader nodding his or her head in shared recognition of an examined moment, possibly even laughing or crying with me as I spilled my version of life onto the page. I hoped my imaginary audience would feel less alone and more understood as I exposed myself to self scrutiny.

 

So here I am, 40 some years later, with the technological creation of the über diary.  I write you read. I feel blessed.

 

I have been being me all along, I just didn’t know it!

 

Take a look at this…it is a scene from Sherlock Holmes talking to Watson. FInding my name has been very validating…

www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhYbY_JO2S4