Can we have some space to discuss something important?

Every millennial has a box. You know the one. It’s shoved in the back of your parents’ garage or buried in your childhood closet, and inside it lives the physical evidence of who you were between the ages of 8 and 18. Beanie Babies. Choker necklaces. The CRINGIEST love letters. That *NSYNC poster you definitely weren’t obsessed with. And, if you’re like me: journals. So. many. journals.

This episode, I did something I’ve been threatening to do since we started this podcast: I cracked open my childhood journals and turned them into a trivia game for Ryan. And let me tell you, it was simultaneously the best and worst decision I’ve ever made.

The Setup: A Game Show Nobody Asked For

Here’s the thing about keeping a detailed journal from ages 8 to 18: you create a time capsule of your most unhinged thoughts, delivered in the most dramatic language possible. I had five journals. FIVE. Because apparently, I had that much to say about how unfair it was that Ryan was, and I quote, “a brainer volleyball superstar” and I was just... there… in a cow-themed room, listening to Third Eye Blind.

I turned these gems into “Jacqueline’s Journal Trivia”, a 17-question deep dive into the absolute chaos of growing up in a house with four brothers, zero boundaries, and unlimited access to Anne of Green Gables. Every question was pulled word-for-word from my journals, which means Ryan got to experience my childhood voice in all its cheaply theatrical glory.

(Yes, I actually used the phrase “cheaply theatrical” to describe sunny days. We’ll get to that.)

Main Character Energy at Age 10

But first, let me paint you a picture of the child who wrote these journals.

This was a girl who thought reading poetry over the school announcements would make her popular. A girl who left her journal open on her bed, to a very specific page about how mean her friends were being, and then conveniently left the room so they could “accidentally” read it and feel bad. A girl who believed her most impressive skills were “soccer moves and reading poems.”

I was Method Acting my entire childhood, and nobody asked me to.

The questions revealed some truly unhinged moments:

* Why was I scared of Ryan’s friend Jon?

* What did Ryan get me for my 10th birthday?

* How did I describe sunny days at age 14?

Ryan scored 82% on this quiz, which honestly tracks for his entire academic career: showing up completely unprepared and still pulling solid Bs through pure logic and educated guessing.

The Cultural Artifacts We Carried Forward

One thing became crystal clear during this episode: we’re all walking around with weird little traditions and phrases from childhood that make zero sense to anyone else.

For me, it’s beans on toast. Specifically, Heinz beans from a can, poured over buttered wheat bread until it’s completely soggy. It’s my ultimate comfort food, a direct import from childhood that I still eat religiously. Justin (my husband) thinks I’m insane. Ryan dry-heaved on mic. But British people get it, and that’s all that matters.

For Ryan, it’s his inability to not apply logic to everything, a skill that apparently developed from having to survive in a house where his sister was writing dramatic poetry about how the truth is like cold water (”it shocks you at first, but no one’s ever died from it”—which, sorry younger me, but the Titanic would like a word).

And speaking of cultural imports: Hawaiian Haystacks. If you’re from Utah, you know. If you’re not, imagine taking rice, covering it with cream of chicken soup and shredded chicken, then topping it with a chaotic combination of pineapples, chow mein noodles, mandarin oranges, almonds, and black olives. It’s the official food of “somebody has just died and we need to feed 300 people on a budget,” and Justin’s family loved it until one fateful camping trip when everyone got food poisoning and spent the night scrambling to unzip their tents in time.

Nobody’s touched a Hawaiian Haystack since.

The Passive Aggressive Chronicles

The real revelation? I was the MOST passive-aggressive 12-year-old to ever exist.

When my friends were mean to me during our school skit rehearsal, did I confront them? Absolutely not. I wrote a devastatingly sad journal entry, left it open on my bed, and then made sure they “accidentally” stumbled upon it. Peak millennial conflict resolution, honestly. We’re the generation that would rather die than have direct confrontation, and I was ahead of my time.

I also kept a running log at the end of each journal entry about how I felt about each brother:

* Daniel: “Haven’t spoken in two weeks”

* Ryan: “Brainer superstar” (derogatory)

* Jonathan: “Perfect child, never his spot a day in his life”

* Dallin: Simply the word “annoying”

Even at 10 years old, I was out here writing Yelp reviews of my siblings.

The Things That Shocked Us Most

Ryan, discovering I kept detailed records of his teenage crimes: “Wait, you wrote about Jon vandalizing the school?”

Me, reading my own words: “I listened to No Scrubs by TLC 17 times in a row and kept a tally.”

Ryan: “That’s actually the most normal thing you’ve said all episode.”

We also uncovered that I was convinced my sixth-grade teacher hated me because I wasn’t a volleyball superstar like Ryan. Imagine being that self-aware at 11 and still writing in your journal that boys don’t like you because you’re not cool enough, while simultaneously describing abandoned crushes as “Frenching girls galore” when they kiss someone else.

The cognitive dissonance was REAL.

The Broader Life Lesson (Because, if you haven’t clued in from the journal entries, We’re Deep Like That)

Here’s what I learned from revisiting these journals: we’re all just walking around with the weird, dramatic, overthinking child we used to be still living inside us. I mean we are all doing that, right?

I’m still passive-aggressive. I still think I’m funnier than I am. I still keep elaborate notes (now in my phone instead of a journal with a broken lock).

And Ryan? Still showing up unprepared and somehow pulling it off. Still the person people like more than me. Still eating two burgers as the healthy option.

Your Assignment (Yes, There’s Homework)

We want to know: What’s your comfort food that nobody else understands?

Mine’s beans on soggy toast. Ryan’s is peanut butter and banana on French bread. What’s yours? And more importantly, what childhood tradition are you still carrying that makes absolutely no sense to anyone else?

Drop your answers in the comments, tag us on social, or send a voice memo. Bonus points if your comfort food is as disgusting as mine.

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Want more stories about growing up in the chaos? Subscribe to The Dreyer Drive podcast wherever you get your shows, and leave us a 5-star rating if you want to hear Ryan attempt to defend his double burger order while I roast him for it.

Until next time, remember: the truth is like cold water. It might not kill you, but it will definitely make you wish you’d never opened your childhood journals.

Question for my journal peoples: What’s the most embarrassing thing YOU wrote in a childhood diary? Tell us in the comments. We’ll try to collect some non RICO enforceable content from Ryan’s singular childhood journal.

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