As a young foolish child of early, early teen years I wrote a single diary entry…well as most of you will get to know about me I don’t have lady luck on my side. My mother found the piece of paper all the way in the bottom of my backpack crumbled up, a day after I wrote it and gave me hell over it.
Since then I have not written anything and left it around the house…ever.
I recently started writing and now I have a blue journal that has many entries and I am afraid that someone will find and well as they say the rest is history.
My mother finding that crumbled piece of paper taught me many valuable lessons, the two most valuable were:
- Trust: she lost my trust, well she had lost it before, but this affirmed it even more that I could not trust her, because how can she “magically” find that a day after I wrote it in the condition she found it. This led my young mind to know that she had been going through my stuff on a daily basis, not just the occasional once a week etc. as I had thought.
- My feelings did not matter: the entry was written after a blow out with her, everything written in there were my poor and pathetic feelings. Nothing saying, “I hate mom, she is unfair” etc. it was just how I felt. But the way she dissected and added hidden meanings to my words and threw them at me made me come to that realization.
I come from a very complicated background, this shaped me in to the person I am today. I freely admit that I have parental issues. Some of my entries will probably contain something along the lines of the impact parents, culture, and religion has on people. I will try and be as articulate as I can be so that I can understand my surrounds and what makes a person think, act, behave, feel etc. the way they do.