when i was younger my mother sat my siblings and i down, gave each our own note book and said i want you to write half a page everyday of anything, things that bother you, what your feeling or thinking it could be anything she said… i don’t remember if someone asked but she told us that we could put anything we wanted in there and that nobody would know because nobody would be able to read it…

i wrote a lot from that point on, i felt safe there and found a form of comfort… it would ease my mind and i not only vented there i used my journals as an escape… i knew there i could get as dark and vulnerable as i wanted… it was exactly what i needed.. my mothers instincts must have told her the kids needed somewhere that would give them a momentary escape from the chaotic surroundings… i never talked to or opened up to anybody so it was perfect for me, i finally had someone who would just listen to me for hours and hours

… it would seem like at some point someone has to violate you, and this person went through me and my brothers journal.. i didn’t know how much was read, but i made it a point after that to keep it hidden… that little journal was all i had to comfort me…

One night in writing, i thought how lonely i felt with it because granted i was getting a release with it, i wasn’t getting a response to tell me everything would be okay… I brought my journal to life, i don’t know what made me think i could but i did.. i had issues with men so i knew it couldn’t be a man, but i was comfortable with women.. I knew my journal was a her, i named her *Speranza*.. Speranza means Hope in Italian… Speranza gave me hope, and every time i wrote she was right there….

I usually left my journal at home but I brought it with me to this house when i was younger, i should have known better because if violating me when i was younger was that easy for this person, then doing it when i was older would be no different.. I ended up leaving it there but i didn’t remember right away.. i had to go back over to this house real quick and when i walked in, this person was buried and lost in a notebook, i didn’t think anything of it and it didn’t register that it was my journal being read.. later on that evening someone called my mom and said i forgot my journal at the house and that it was being read by this person… When mom told me all i could think of was “hopefully this person read the entries about their actions done to me as a child and much i hated them for it”….

i never let no one know anything of me, no one would understand me anyways.. i completely gave up on Speranza after that… the one place i had always felt safe no longer protected me… When this person who read my journal told my mom that one of her kids were gonna commit suicide, i knew a lot of my journal had been read… what was writing my thoughts supposed to do for me when people kept peering into my mind, how do i trust in that when trusting in it i became violated…

it was awhile before i wrote again, and i found comfort and something else to ease my mind… it only provided so much comfort, granted the occasional line on a center console or mirror numbed me it didn’t release my thoughts like writing did… and granted the puzzle pieces brought me into a whole new world and helped me escape my present reality, but that escape was only a moment and when the puzzle piece wore off i was back in reality…

I needed more then what that offered, and when i started getting my life together i went back to the journal, i went back to a place where i found the most comfort…. at that point i figured if anyone went through them it wouldn’t matter..

i recently saw those journals i wrote in so many years ago and i realized that Speranza (hope) didn’t go anywhere, she waited for me to feel comfortable with her again… and that even though i gave up on Speranza……

she didn’t give up on me…


134 thoughts on “Speranza

  1. Teddy I am so glad you were able to find your way back to Speranza. Your story brought tears to my eyes and thoughts of another young man who I wish could have found hope in his life and a way to vent what he experienced . Praying for you my friend and sending Hugs your way.


  2. I’ve told you before, but I really enjoy reading your posts. I feel the pain from your words and wish someone was there for you when you were a kid. I’m sure you are inspiring others to write out their thoughts too in “Speranza”. hugs


  3. lissy1417

    This is great Teddy. I too had a mother who started me writing early and I think it’s what helped me keep centered, learn about myself and dream bigger. Also it’s so good to have those pages from the past to look back on because although I don’t think we should ever be cemented in our past we should never forget it and those pages help to see how much we grow as people. Thanks to much for sharing! It made me want to dig out my old journals and see where my life has taken me.


    • i agree with you about not being cemented in our past…
      They do, as i wrote in my journal when i was younger i thought “i wonder where ill be when i read this again”
      haha thats funny, if you do make sure you tell me about that


  4. What an awesome idea, naming your journal! Going back and reading your entries, do you see where you have grown as a man in your feelings & thoughts to your years of abuse? This is such as sad, yet, sweet post at the same time!

    Liked by 1 person

    • i don’t know how to answer that…
      i think its that fact you care enough to ask about my thoughts on myself as i read some of those entries..
      that means a lot to me tela..
      i could see were i grew a lot… its hard to explain though…
      thank you Tela…


  5. Thank you for sharing, Teddy. My mom didn’t give me a journal, notebook, or much of anything. Yet, at age 14, I knew if I didn’t find an outlet for the anger and hopelessness, I would be another statistic.

    I started writing in a journal my wonderful late Grandma gave me. It was always in my purse or backpack. I never let it out of my site. A few days before I married, I sealed and buried my journals on my Grandma’s property. It was symbolic to me.

    May God bless you as you continue your journey of healing.


  6. That is the exact same effect that journaling has on me, and, writing in my journals had helped me come to senses and make sense of what had actually happened to me, so, keep on journaling, because when you look back, you’d know, that you’d gone through the fires, and you’d realize your own strengths.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Merryn

      I can relate heaps – just looked back at some journals tonight and my spirit soared with hope. I was reminded of so many positive things and could see how some things had worked out, where I had worried if they would. I could also see the ups and downs and I knew that it’s just a part of who I am and despite the downs, I had succeeded in things. It gave me hope to get up and try again at the things I am afraid of trying. πŸ™‚


  7. Beautiful. That’s exactly how I feel about writing. I have my journals in a drawer in my room. From time to time I read them and remember that I was sad, even as a teenager, and that not much has changed at all.


  8. zareenn3

    That’s the stuff with diaries/journals. I used to keep one too but the day I would forget to lock my cupboard, I would have a heart attack just thinking someone might read it. So I started writing online. On Open Diary. And even that closed down. Bums.

    But thank you. For being so brave and sharing all your thoughts with us. Of all the people who’s blog I follow, you’re one of my top favorites. And the reason behind it is that you’re so true in whatever you say. I have never felt like you have changed anything. It’s like what’s in your heart, is in your mouth and written here. I don’t think everyone is as brave as you to just tell everything to everyone.

    So thank you for your honesty. And thank you for being vulnerable and broken here as well. A bit if not completely.


  9. falzalnz

    I’ve had my own experience with someone reading my journal. And it was pretty brutal. I mean, it actually felt like he had deliberately cut me open just to see what was on the inside. It took years to be able to write again. Every time I’d try, it’d go something like this, “Yeah… so… I don’t know what to write…”

    I’m really glad that you found your way back because there’s nothing else like it. I believe it’s the writer’s canvas and our words are the paint and it’s important to be able to express whatever it is we’re feeling.

    And yeah, like many above me have said, it takes a lot of courage to do this on a public platform.


    • i know what you mean..
      it’s the worst feeling ever…
      at that time i wouldn’t even let anyone within arms reach of me, so when they went through it i was shocked, and then for my grandmother to read it in front of me, i was shocked…
      i can only imagine how you felt…
      i figured if they didn’t mind digging through something that personal in papers, then they won’t mind reading it up on the web…
      thank you, falzalnz, your comment means a lot to me…


  10. aqilaqamar

    Reblogged this on Iconography β™  Incomplete and commented:
    “… it would seem like at some point someone has to violate you” I felt these were some of the strongest lines that ever resonated with me. It is crucial to know that I have had this happen to me in so many ways in my life that it hurts. People want to hurt you if you are happy or feeling good and I don’t understand why.


  11. aqilaqamar

    Hope doesn’t die easily that is why abusers try so hard to be cruel to you so they think they can kill it; you only hurt that one thing that you are scarred of — abusers, at the end of the day are afraid of your hopes so they try so hard to make it go away. God is always with you Teddy and I am happy you are hopeful again.


  12. Willy Nilly

    Thanks for visiting earlier! I’m glad you came back to Speranza and that she has given you back your voice. Sometimes, to know where we are, we must first know where we came from.


  13. I’m glad you were able to find refuge in your journals. It’s a shame your family didn’t respect your privacy, but since they didn’t respect you as a person, not surprising. I’m very glad you found writing again, and a safe place to do it.


  14. deirdremarieosullivan

    My mother and my sister both read things I wrote and were cruel… My crafty Irish girl page is an outlet at the moment but it’s public and sometimes I refer to friends and although I don’t name them, they could easily out two and two together and know my thoughts … Hmmmmm … Maybe write under a false name?
    All the best with your creative pen x


  15. Oh my goodness. You were so violated. I can understand your retreating for a while. But it’s so great that you returned to Speranza. I knew the meaning of this word as soon as I saw it. In Portuguese it’s EsperanΓ§a.
    Great post.


  16. chengboiser

    Speranza, sweet of you to name your journal. I do feel the same way when I was a kid and I’m sure is glad you found her back and started writing again.


  17. I am so glad I read this, Teddy. It gave me the goosebumps. I too wrote in a notebook (s) as a child, writing to “God” about all the traumas I experienced as a child. In moving one year, I found those notebooks, and instead of keep all those sad memories, I threw them out. Some days I wish I still had them. Other days I am glad I no longer have the words of my child self crying out for someone to help her.
    Great post!!! Thank you for sharing your heart. (((HUGS))) Amy


      • Yes I did. And they just about broke my heart as I saw a little girl curled up in a closet buried in the clothes so no one would find her, the door to the closet cracked just a tiny bit for air and light … and I knew it best to throw them out. “When we live in the past, in the pain and the horror, our present moment for the potential of JOY is stolen.” I just wrote one of my “little sayings of Wisdom”. And you are the first one to see it. Thank you, Teddy, for without this conversation, this Wisdom would not have bubbled up to my consciousness. Bless you! Amy


  18. Speranza, is such a fitting name for her. I am so glad that you have taken journal entry back up because it is amazing how just putting your feelings out there eases the ache, if only just a little.

    I kept a journal for many years and had my privacy violated by someone reading it. I was really hurt and angry and stepped away from it for a number of years, but then came back to it. I found that I tended to harbor more hurt and anger inside when I stopped writing and that anger or hurt would overwhelm me at times. When I went back to writing, I felt release. Just knowing that everything I felt at that time was recorded helped me to let go of the feelings and move through them. I felt validated and no longer alone.

    Your post reminds me of a phrase that I have used as a mantra for years when I feel like I will do something unhealthy for me or for my positive progress in life. It goes, “Reach for your resources, not your sedatives.” I don’t know how I came up with it, but it has served me well as a reminder not to go back down some of the dark alleys I used to travel. I hope that it helps you too. πŸ’™


  19. Merryn

    So so glad you had Speranza – I remember cutting up a journal in fear that someone would read it, when I was 14. When it was gone, I felt so much grief and loss. Same has happened when I have torn up extremely personal and deep poems that I was scared of people seeing. You are so so brave Teddy – and I am really glad you got back into writing. It is doing so much more than help you – look at all the people you are helping through this blog – and probably heaps more than have commented here. I love watching you go from strength to strength with your sharing. It is beautiful that you called your journal “hope” in Italian. Perhaps one day, if you publish a book, it would make a great title :). So sorry that your privacy was violated and your deepest thoughts read. Never let the writing stop Teddy – you have a gift! πŸ™‚


  20. Merryn

    We only had time for one practice ha ha! I was learning some of the songs from scratch – a spectacular botch up when changing key on “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” lol but otherwise, it worked ok :). I liked “Georgia” the best.


  21. Merryn

    Teddy, hope you don’t mind – thought I would nominate you for one of these awards called the Sunshine Award – sounds like a bit of fun – it helps to get more people reading your blog and celebrates the wonderful encouragement you bring to others through your writing. Don’t feel you have to participate, but if you are keen, follow the link and there are instructions in my blog post. :)http://humbleheartscribbles.wordpress.com/2014/04/21/sunshine-award-nomination/

    Liked by 1 person

  22. I had something similar happen with my mother. She gave me a journal then would read it. Even worse she would put notes in it telling me why I shouldn’t have such thoughts. It took me a long time to write again.


  23. Martha Kennedy

    “Hope” is the thing with feathers – (314)
    By Emily Dickinson
    β€œHope” is the thing with feathers –
    That perches in the soul –
    And sings the tune without the words –
    And never stops – at all –

    And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
    And sore must be the storm –
    That could abash the little Bird
    That kept so many warm –


  24. Wow, I have no idea how I found your blog but I’m so glad I did! This is so beautiful and I can relate to it. I remember leaving my journal at a friends house. I called and ask her to bring it to school and not to read it, but that was a big mistake. She read it with another friend and they picked on me because of what they read. I felt so horrible and ashamed that I stopped writing for a long time. But I’m so glad I began writing again.
    I don’t mean to write so much, but this post was so inspiring.
    I’m glad you have your Speranza.
    I never thought of naming my journal. If I do, maybe I will name it Esperanza, since that’s how you say hope in Spanish lol πŸ˜€


    • its fine, i don’t mind you writing so much… im sorry to hear that, but im glad you started writing again πŸ™‚
      *esperanza, just like in italian, let me know what you decide to name your journal … thanks for the comment deborah


  25. I know that it felt and feels like a violation, when Speranza was read by your abuser…but I thought, YES! You were given a voice by your writing that had not been heard yet!!
    I’m so glad that Speranza, your writing, and your voice is returning. Your story is an important one.


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