Scrapping Together Some Happiness

“Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.” – Kevin Arnold, The Wonder Years

Creating a scrapbook is an act of love. Love of the subject, love for the recipient, love of the memories held within the pages. For me, scrapbooking has also become an act of self-love and self-preservation.

My love of scrapbooking came from an early fascination with photography. When I was seven, my dad got me my first camera. A Polaroid. A big, clunky, 1990s Polaroid. It was fantastic. Unlike the cameras I had used before, where you had to wait days or weeks to get your photos developed (this is clearly a while ago), suddenly I had instant pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. And as the piles of pictures grew, teetering on every ledge in my bedroom, I realized I needed someplace to display all of my “photographic genius” (I was a rather confident child). Pictures these good couldn’t just be slipped into an album. They needed proper presentation. I spent three weeks’ worth of allowance on my first scrapbook, paper, and some stickers at the 99-cents store, and a passion was born.

My first big scrapbook covered my eighth-grade class trip to the east coast where, of the twelve rolls of film I used (that’s right…film!), over half of the pictures featured various squirrels seen in New York and Washington D.C. I fancied myself a budding nature photographer with a future at National Geographic. That scrapbook was heavy with nut stickers and hand-cut paper trees. Later, I got to use my joy of scrapbooking to benefit my GPA when, in my senior year of high school, our final project included a required scrapbook of the year. A whole school year to focus on and create a scrapbook? To be graded? I felt like I had practiced my whole life for that moment! And it was during the creation of this particular scrapbook that I discovered I was able to use this creative process as a form of therapy, a way to deal with some of the mental struggles I was dealing with.

Since then, my crafty passion has continued with the creation of scrapbooks for trips abroad, holidays with family, and major life events like weddings and anniversaries. And while many people have turned to the ease and convenience of digitally created albums, I still prefer the feeling of doing it myself. Pulling out my stack of paper, boxes of stickers, and my bright orange-handled scissors. Holding the pictures in my hand. Cutting and gluing. Creating art from memories. This brings me joy. This brings me stability.

For me, scrapbooking is much more than a craft. It helps me create happiness. Happiness that I might not actually feel all the time. I guide my scissors to frame the perfect shot. I use them to shape memories – to cut away the trivial, remove the background, and focus on the moments that matter. Scissors help me shape and frame the memories that I want to make last. The moments I want to leave behind for those I love the most. I cut away the blurs, harsh edges, the surrounding chaos. I cut out photos to remove my anxiety about what I will leave behind, and when I will leave it behind. Scrapbooking gives me a sense of control that I don’t always feel in day to day life. My creativity soothes my worrying mind.

Both in my scrapbooking and writing, I’m doing the same thing – trying to construct a memory or moment that will last long after I’m gone. My creativity not only brings me peace and happiness in the present, but it helps keep these moments alive into a future where I will not be. These pictures are not stored away on a computer, lost in the thousands of images taken over the years. They are solid, tangible things, pressed to pages that can be turned, admired, enjoyed - bringing happiness both now and then.

Now, I am working on the two most important scrapbooks I have or will ever make. My two sons’ baby books. Every scrapbook I have made up until now was a record of my life. A collection of my memories. But now, I am beginning the record of their lives - laying the foundation for their earliest memories (and memorializing a lot of things they won’t remember). It brings me a lot of joy imagining an older version of my child, looking through these pages and remembering the early days of his life. This creative outlet also helps soothes the heightened anxiety that has consumed a lot of my early years of motherhood.

By creating these books, I am sharing my love for my children with them. I am framing the childhood I want them to remember. With every snip of the scissors, with every swipe of glue, I hope to help them to remember. Remember their happiness, remember my happiness, remember me.

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