The Power Of The Pen

Throwing the blog out into public domain, as I have, has brought some interesting things into my little world. As far as the Internet reaches, it’s not uncommon for me to get comments, complaints and letters from people all over the world. I’ve written about some of the letters and people I’ve been in contact with. There are, not surprisingly, notes that I haven’t shared for privacy reasons. I’ve always made it clear that anyone’s secrets are safe with me when it comes to the blog and, I’m proud to say, that’s a promise I’ve held sacred.

         About a year ago I got a note from someone that, until now, I couldn’t imagine talking about to anyone except those with the need to know. The letter was from a young man, 17 years old, that was going through some major issues in his life and thought writing to this anonymous “Blogger”, as he called me, was a way to not only explain himself and what his plans were, but to also be hidden enough that hurting himself, if it came to that, couldn’t be interfered with.

         When the notes first started, I really didn’t think much of it. I get these kinds of notes all the time from people I don’t know. What started as simple notes of teenage angst however, soon became much more serious. The more I read from him, the more concerned I became. I had no idea who he was or where he lived and I didn’t even know where to begin to find out.

         His notes, which were now coming on an almost daily basis, were becoming more and more disconcerting. Though I kept replying with letters of support I was always trying to find out where he lived, as I wanted to get ahold of the authorities in his town to get this kid the help he so needed. It finally came to the point of either I get this kid some help or, I’m afraid, he would truly hurt himself.

         I ended up contacting “Google” because they host the blog and voiced my concerns. Some folks contacted me and I shared what info I had. At the time, I could only assume that they had found him as I stopped receiving notes and, as hard as I tried, couldn’t get any info from the people I had been in contact with. I sent him notes asking of he was ok, but he wouldn’t reply. I could only assume what might have happened and I decided to just wait and see if I heard anything again.

         Around three months later I started getting emails from him again with a much harsher tone. He said I had violated our trust and friendship, that I was nothing short of an absolute ass because I had contacted the authorities. He called me a fraud, among other things and said he was sorry he’d ever written me. He was sending me about three notes a week, each harsher than the previous. To say I had mixed feelings would be a major understatement. On the one hand I was happy to find that he hadn’t killed himself yet, on the other, I was crushed.

         Was he right? Did I violate our trust? Didn’t I have a duty here to alert the powers that be? It really threw me. I couldn’t write about it, wasn’t that the only part of the bargain that should be concerned about? I had such mixed feelings. I really had to question what my responsibilities were, in regard to the Blog. Did I owe anything to anyone simply because they connected to something I had written? I finally decided that this was much deeper than I ever planned. My only intention with the Blog was to allow myself to blow off steam. I decided I should no longer write in the same manner I always had. Granted, I couldn’t be held responsible for some messed up kid but I couldn’t live with myself if I thought I was the catalyst for someone ending his or her life.

         Without the ability to share my feelings on the Blog, I found that I began losing a major part of myself. A part that, over the years, I had actually become proud of. Missing this piece of the puzzle that is me, became something that really weighed on me. I felt muzzled. Something had been taken away from me that had helped me in so many ways and it wasn’t fair. I started getting angry and I sent this kid a note, not even sure if he’d receive it, letting him know how I felt. This was in February of this year and that, until last week, was the last I heard of the entire thing.

         Trent (he said I could now use his name) sent me a note and actually apologized to me. He lives in a small town near Ottawa in Canada and had, indeed, attempted suicide. He had sent the angry notes from the hospital and had been in rehab now for a number of months. He said a number of very nice things and told me that, for a while, he felt I was the only friend he had. When the Authorities found who he was he felt betrayed. I can understand that. He was now feeling much better and was disappointed to see that I haven’t written in a while.

         It was very special to find that note in my in box. We’ve written each other, back and forth, a few times in the last week and Trent, now 18, is looking forward to starting college soon. That’s way cool and I’m so pleased to get the news. I hope to stay in contact with him for years to come.

         I don’t pretend to think that I had some major life changing words that was helping him over the time of our correspondence, nor that those words somehow pushed him closer to his attempted suicide. What I do know is that I did my best in a situation that was totally unfamiliar to me. I made changes to my life because of this situation and I don’t think I’d do anything differently. I’m very happy that Trent’s doing well. I’m also feeling like I got a little relief in my head because of all this.