Dear 12

 Your mother died a few months ago. You watched her die. You watched her flail blindly on her bed in the front room, naked, as her sister tried to hold her body on the bed. You watched your mother die that morning. You sat on those spiral stairs she had wanted so badly, and watched her leave.

Are you ok now? You’re not ok. A short trip to Nova Scotia to see relatives you barely know didn’t make you better, didn’t seem to make your father better. Things are quiet, too quiet. You don’t talk about it.

So I’m here, 18 years later, to talk to you about this.

It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anythink to cause this, and no, you couldn’t fix it. Your mother had breast cancer, and even a masectomy can’t always fix it. It reached her organs. I know you watched your mother die slowly, and then quickly. I can’t take that back for you, and I can’t make it any better. Nothing, but time, will make it any easier.

You won’t believe me, but there will come a day when you won’t want to cry every hour, where you won’t want to kill yourself. My advice? See the damn shrink, don’t play games with them, and take the drugs. What are you proving? That’s you’re strong? Brave? They know that honey, they do. You don’t have to prove this every second of everyday.

You’ll be diagnosed as ADD at first, but they’re wrong. It’s bipolar. Your instincts will be right, and you should ask the doctors about this. You aren’t weird because you read about this. Save yourself a few years of crap and pain, and ask the doctors.

Bryan is wrong for you, but at the same time, you’ll need what you find in Kitchener. You need time to just have fun. You’ll make some stupid decisions, and take far too many drugs. But you’ll grow, and find pieces of you buried under all the sadness and pain. Grab hold. These friends aren’t for life though, as much as they seem at the time. You have trouble holding on to friends. Try harder. You’ll miss having people to document your life with.

Bring a camera with you the time you drop acid with Mike and Dan. The sunrise you’ll see on the school top that morning will be like none you’ll see for a very long time. Be careful on the fence though-you like those pants.

Drop your expectations of university. It IS full of people only there for the degree, not the knowledge. Don’t get high and mighty and mad about it. Just deal with it. It won’t be what you expect. You’ll hate the profs. But stick with it. You’ll regret not having even your useless honors arts degree.

You’ll fall in love, hard, at 18. Your world will contract around you, and your heart will be light. Savour this. You’ve waited for so long, convinced that no one really loved you, and you’ll find someone who loves every bit of you. It will take him a few years to realize just how much you really mean, but it’s worth the wait. Great relationships don’t just happen.

You’ll have kids. Yes, you heard me right. You’ll have two girls, so feel relieved at that. They’ll be the strangest and best thing that’s ever happened to you. You’ll feel love again, your heart will work again for the first time since Mom dying. You’ll be happy, which you didn’t think was possible. You’ll have a life you never imagined, and you’ll love it.

Sure, you won’t be writing poetry alone in a garret smoking cheap cigarettes, but you’ll be happy and writing other things. But your writing will find a joy you thought you lost when that coffin when in the grave.

You will be happy again. I can’t stress that enough.

When you’re 14, don’t take all those pills. You don’t want to die. You just want someone to notice you, and take care of you. No one will. You’ll have to do it on your own anyway. You’re stronger than you think.

Your father loves you, he just doesn’t know what to do.You have to leave him for awhile. You can’t stop his drinking. Just try to help him, but don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. He’ll come around eventually.

Your biological family is not what you think. Be careful. You don’t want more pain. Don search for them until you’re older. 17 is too young. I know you want to know, but you look more like your father anyway, and he’s dead. Wait for a better time, when you’re older. You have a half sister, but you’ll never see her.

Don’t admit to anyone that when you were younger, you made your brother buy you Starship. People will laugh.

Ask a teacher about your period and what to use before you get it. Trust me-the embarressment you feel at asking is a LOT less that the embarassment you’ll feel if you leak everywhere. Again, just trust me. Your Dad won’t be much help either. Just like with other things, you’ll be alone with it. Get used to it.

Life isn’t as bad as it seems, but you’re right. It isn’t fair. Stop being so angry though. It won’t make anything better.

Stop and enjoy things sometimes. Life is so fleeting.

Buy more than one box of blondisima. Green skunk hair isn’t cool.

Tell Stace not to dye her hair blue for school pictures-the backdrop is the same color.

Buy your yearbooks. You’ll care later on.

Like yourself. You aren’t as ugly, or as fat, as you seem to think.

Enjoy yourself dear. It’s gone so fast.