A piece of history

I’ve been thinking about starting to journal.  I have done this a lot though out my life and always love going back and reading the entries.  It always amazes me how much I forget.  I like the little peek at what once was.  Blogging is a lot like journaling but I don’t think I want to put everything in a public blog. 

I’ve only ever filled one journal from front to back.   I was 16 and gave it to my fiancé as a gift.  Yes, I was engaged at 16 and yes I gave him access to my most private thoughts.   I’m not sure which is more surprising to me – that I was engaged or that I shared that with him.   Sharing on that level has always been a fear of mine.

We started going out (is that still the correct term?) the day after I turned 15.  He was my first love.  I randomly met him when he was a passenger in my friend’s car.  The day after my birthday he called me and told me that he and his girlfriend had broken up.  We started a relationship immediately. 

My teens were tough years.  My relationship with my Mother was strained.  This is common with Mothers and daughters but ours was more than just the normal conflict.  I won’t go into the details of her story.  I will say, as an adult, I see her struggles differently.  I have more understanding and compassion.  She was doing the best she could.   

When I was 16, my mom and I had a huge argument and she said things that hurt me to my core.  I’m sure I did the same to her.  I walked out of our apartment and went to the only place I knew – my boyfriend’s house.  I was lucky that they allowed me to stay there for a week or two.  I’ll never forget the love I felt from his parents.  I typically spent every waking moment at his house but this time was different.  They basically allowed me to move in, sleep on their couch and offered advice on how to handle the shit storm I was navigating.  I’ll never forget the conversation I had with his Dad on my last night there.  I don’t believe he wanted me to go back home.  He told me I was always welcome at their home and I could stay as long as I wanted.  He told me going back to my mom’s was not my only option and that all that happened wasn’t something I just had to accept.  I never had to accept that type of treatment.  Those are not his exact words but the gist.  I also never forget how that felt.  Knowing someone cared that much still makes me tear up as I write this.  

I doubt they realize what a difference they made in my life.   I was a lost, angry and confused girl and they offered me stability.  They showed me love when I felt unloved.  They offered guidance when I felt abandoned.  They gave me a gift of knowing that circumstances do not define a person.   I loved them like parents.  I still do.  They are amazing people that played an important role in my life.  For them I will be forever grateful.  It’s not often you meet people that impact your life like they did mine.  Hopefully, someday they will read this and know what a difference they made.