None of Your Business

by Mrs. Smith on March 11, 2016

Dear Sister,

You don’t necessarily look like a miracle worker. Cute little almost-3yo. Widdle Bitty Baby Bump. One would never suspect that such a nice looking young mommy could, in her spare time, work a freaking awesome wonder. In addition, of course, to the freaking awesome wonder that is mothering young children and creating new life, I mean.

But you did.

I was just thinking of that long-lost journal box last week, you know. I’ve been fairly confident it got lost in that transition into marriage… SURELY Mom & Dad would have seen it when they moved out of the house we grew up in. Surely. I must have left it at that room I was renting just before I got married. Lost forever.

But no. I didn’t lose it after all! I left it at home like the responsible adult I was. And they DID move it up there with them!


It’s been 13 years, almost. I thought for sure they were long gone. Never lost hope completely that they’d turn up, but certainly did not expect this happy surprise today!

Seriously, guys, this has my whole childhood in it.

My elementary school crushes.
(Oh, won’t those be fun to read, right?)

My first dance.

Going to music camp.

Meeting my best friend, who would later teach me the fine art of collage-making.

The hopes and aspirations of my teenage self.

Getting into the music program at Palomar College.

My awesomely sad, sweet little messages I pieced together during the bizarre/mysterious “unique” psychotic episodes I had around 16yo…
(Oh, sorry, was that TMI? hahaha… Guess who doesn’t care who knows about that any more? ME!)

The difficulty of not knowing what was going on in my brain – and the awe at how stumped all those dozens of specialists were.
(No, really, they were. None of them knew what was causing it or what would fix it. Lovely.)

The joy of discovering at last where the problem was, and the miracle of finding a naturopathic doctor who helped fix it.
(Endocrine system failure, hypothalamus gland malfunction. Homeopathy/nutrition. Life, saved! Thanks for asking, and thank you God, for helping me avoid “relapse” for a good 15 years. And they really were good years.)

Dreaming about my future husband and what he’d be like.

Meeting said husband….
Or wait, no, that journal is in the grownup-journal-box.

But anyway. My entire growing up in the form of, like, what, 20 journals?

Yes. All of it. All of me. At least, the “me” that made it onto paper and into print.

This love for writing isn’t a new thing, you know. I spent hours and hours with my ring-bound, college-lined, collage-covered journals, staying up into the night with my flashlight pen & my thoughts, pouring it all out.

I made peace with it, you know. With having lost that part of my life. I figure, some people lose EVERYTHING in fires, floods, earthquakes… I’ve lost one box. There are worse things to lose. And it was the writing it out that was necessary. Who really goes back and reads all those hundreds of pages anyway?

But what was lost has been found.

I am in shock.

I am grateful.

It is amazing.

Thank you, Sister.

I love you!!!

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