Alright. So my daughter’s cleaning out her bedroom before our Christmas guests arrive, and she makes several trips to the trash can. No big shocker there. But when I went to the trash myself to throw something away, I notice a paper with a poem on it sitting right on top. Since I’m the kind of mom who saves everything, I decide to rescue it. On the paper were the following poems:

Feelings

Depressed is what I feel, lonely is what I feel,
Hated and unliked is what I feel,
I should have known, I was alone.
I never feel like I am home.
I feel so…misunderstood.

Tears

Tears is all I see today,
Tears is all I hear today,
Tears is all I feel today,
Tears is all I smell today,
Tears is all I cry today.

I keep telling myself I’m not going to freak out about this. This is exactly how I used to be, and I think I turned out O.K. I keep thinking, does my kid act depressed, and I’m oblivious? I really don’t think so. We talk about everything! I can’t figure it out. I have been giving her more responsibilities lately, and I probably have been a little critical. She’s always been dramatic, though. She rarely gets punished for anything because she’s a good kid, but when she does, it’s as if her world is crushed.

I’m a poet, too, and when I’m trying to deal with strong emotions, that’s what I do. When I was younger, I used to write some biting, angry stuff. Once I got it down on paper, I felt better & went on. I found not too long ago, that I felt even more liberated when I let go of those poems, too, so I started throwing away the old ones written from sadness and anger. When I no longer needed to revisit that pain by re-reading the poems, I felt free.

I’m hoping that’s what Emily has done. I’m hoping that she was able to express herself in writing, and that it has served its purpose. Now I just have to figure out how to approach it in such a way that she doesn’t think I’ve violated her provacy. I’ll never forget how betrayed I felt when my mom read my poetry journal when I was a teenager and drilled me about some of the statements I had made. I know she was only concerned, but I was really hurt. It was just a creative outlet.

Geez, my kid’s just turning 11 next month and she’s already a brooding adolescent. Damn that Gerard Way!! (I have to admit, had Robert Smith to help me brood.)