Be Careful What You Put In Writing!

The last time I wrote anything personal was in 8th grade. The teacher made us "journal" for 20 minutes before class.

I had more than my share of Junior High angst. I had befriended a girl three years older who had a boyfriend ( call him Ed) who was in jail.. so along with her I was absorbed into this crowd of guys, some in, some out, some soon-to-be-in. I had a crush on an 18y/o s-t-b-i and my world was spinning. The thing is that along with her boyfriend came a posse of self-appointed "big brothers" whose job it was to keep me safe and sane. They tried hard. They really did a good job, except for the telling me all of TJ's antics.. with 18 y/o girls. My nickname was "dingy".

So I wrote. and I wrote. I wrote reams of paper of "stuff". Being 14 is tough enough without all this extra "stuff".

I had a man take me to the jail to see TJ. I look back on it and can't believe that was me. My life. Then my father took me. My parents are 18 years older than me. They've been married for 50 years now. My father took me to the jail. To see someone he despised. I can still see him sitting on the floor a few feet from me. I'm talking on the phone, looking through the glass, at a jerk in a jumpsuit telling me about the murderers and thieves along side him. I look over at my dad, alone on the floor. Blood shot eyes. Sad, hurt eyes. He was there for me, to keep me safe.

It still breaks my heart.

So I wrote it out. I sent reams of letters to my "brothers." I told them about my 14 year old world, the songs I loved, what I wore to school. They would ask if I was doing my homework. I would ask Ed why spiders hang upside down in their webs in the rain. He explained it kept them from drowning. I remember this!

One guy, Mikey stopped writing one day. I got a letter from Ed that he swallowed some safety pins and razor blades and was committed in the mental unit. I don't know if he was ever ok.

I was as safe as I could possibly be in that situation. Except for TJ.

One day my mom came up to me and told me to "be careful what I put in writing." That was all she said. I never knew what happened, what was said. TJ was gone, transferred to a maximum facility. He was gone, forever.

I stopped writing. For 36 years.

Until 2 weeks ago.

I was just looking at my list of hubs. There are some blue triangles today. I realized these goofy hubs are me. They are the best of me and the worst of me. It's a strange kind of connection. I told the ones with the blue triangles not too feel bad. Not to take it personally. I wrote them for me.

There is one red triangle. I told that hub not to be such a snob, to quit flaunting its red triangle.. tomorrow it might be blue. I hate snobby triangles. Triangles with a bad attitude.

So I told the blue ones to pick themselves up, dust themselves off and start all over again.

It's a strange place to return to, my writing, my stories, my heart, my life.

I wanted to say a special thank you to those of you who are following my journey with me.. I can't thank each of you personally with the voice I'd like to have. Know this, knowing you, means everything to me.

Always in the back of my mind is my mom telling me to be careful what I put in writing,

Thank you mom, I will. Thank you, too dad. He turned 70 yesterday. We almost lost him 20 years ago to cancer. He's still with me, protecting me. He's the funny one!