I don't have a lot of stuff from my childhood because my father got rid of it because I lived with my mom during the years of college left after their divorce and because before that I burned anything I didn't want him to see before I left for college.

Tonight I was looking for something in the few bins I have and found a notebook I kept at 13-14. It is part journal, part scrapbook and it is pretty raw with feelings about the abuse I refer to obliquely mixed with my grandma's terminal illness.

What stands out though are an essay and a note to a friend I never gave her (possibly because about then I found out she was sleeping with my only partly broken up with boyfriend. The essay is about "crazy" and how I know my peers call me that and react to me like that. I was quite accepting, knowing something was very wrong but not what.

The note practically wails that the depression is back, that it was gone for a short time and now it is back and worse than ever. Nobody in my life caught that for many years after (12?) but that's my earliest proof of cycling. I'm sure it was going on longer and I just happened to catch it on something I kept once but it's a weird look back.

Sadly those same people call me crazy yet.......no 25 reunion for me next year.