The Teenage Poet

Several weeks ago I was talking with a friend and somehow I mentioned my poetry. "You write poetry? I didn't know that!" I explained that yes, I was a Teenage Poet, but I hadn't written poetry for many years. I told her I still have pages and pages tucked away. I told her that maybe I would bring my poetry to our next retreat, and use the time to get it organized. I was kind of surprised that she didn't know I was a Teenage Poet. I know her well and we have shared quite a few details of our lives. The Teenage Poet that I was is still here; she just doesn't come out as often or in the same way.

Three things about being a teenager:

- Most of us would not want to return to our teen years. Those years, for me, were full of pain. loneliness, confusion, and anger. Things were changing: with me, with my body, with my family. Friends seemed to become strangers. I wasn't one of the cool kids, but I sure tried to make myself stand out. Most often I stood out as weird. Like my friends, and like teenagers before me and now, I was sorting out who I was and how I fit into the world. Guess what? I still am sorting myself out and learning how I fit into the world. I believe most of us continue to re-evaluate our lives and our Selves always. We just fail to see the connection to our teen self because the struggles and battles and joys and life events are different now.

- I remember my Mom telling me "Here I am in this old and crippled up body, but my mind is still sixteen". She wasn't that old and although she had difficulties and extreme pain from advanced osteoporosis, she really wasn't all that crippled, either. The point is, her dreams and her thoughts and her desires and her needs and her joy and her anger and her longings were still there, still the same. Life had given her some tough blows and some extreme joys. Some things beat her down. Inside her sixteen year old was still there. So is mine. So is yours.

- I'm lucky to still have a couple friends who have been in my life since I was a teenager. My childhood friends are all gone, for a variety of reason, but these select few who battled through teenhood with me hold a dear and special place in my heart. They've seen me at my worst and they've seen me at my best. They "get" me like no one else does. Time passes and people move in an out of each other's lives. Those who have been with us the longest - your family, your childhood friends, your teen friends - are important to each of us for our own special reasons. Like a pair of jeans that are as comfortable as an old pair of pajamas, the teen friends hold us together even if there have been rips and frays in the fabric.

I look at my Teenage Poet and I know I would not want to live that time again. The parts of me that no longer serve me have been cut loose to waft away into the breeze. The core part of my Teenage Poet still lives on, sometimes as the fourteen year old rebel who is annoying as hell and sometimes  as the sixteen year old who only wants understanding and sometimes as the girl who lets the giggles overtake her. The loneliness may always be there.As time continues to fly out of the clock, I am learning my core being has always been and will always be. That brings relief from the loneliness, the pain, the wanting.