Intro

(Intro updated and revised)

The other night I decided to take a long trip down memory lane, through the pages of my old diaries and realized how much I had forgotten throughout the years. As I was reading each page, I couldn’t believe most of the things that were written. But it was interesting to realize that only now I’m able to understand the meaning of some of it. Of course, other things, I’m still trying to figure out. Also, I haven’t written any journals in a while.

I’m going on 40 now. It’s been almost twenty-three years since the first diary I ever wrote . A bit more than two decade of love stories, self discovery, adolescent dilemmas, family issues, adaptations, social and cultural diferences...so many things, and so little at the same time.

The more I read, the more I realize that we never really grow up, we just move around, go to different places, learn from bad experiences, take for granted the good ones, but in the end, and even if disguised, we’re always the same person. I know for certain that I went through infinite changes in my life, that I saw things in different perspectives as time went by, but in the end, deep inside, all those things are still here, hidden in a secret closet in my mind. And whenever something significant happens in our life, we go back to that closet, and unaware of it, we open it and seek answers to our present issues. I really believe that in every stage of our life, the things we go through happen for a reason, and help us understand certain events that occur after. It’s as if a lamp was suddenly lit in our minds.
That is what I feel as I read my old journals. And I have noticed that, depending on the stage of my life in which I read them, different answers are revelead to me. The reasons I though had lead me to make certain decisions or the reasons certain things occured, change with time
It’s strange, but at the same time, it’s comforting because as time goes by, life seams to make more sense, the pieces of the puzzl seam to fit themselves in the right place, our stupid mistakes turn out to have a hidden reason that we only find out later on in life.

I wanted to reinforce this idea by writing it down, and not only that...It’s also a way to immortalize all those answers and questions, the intriguing events, the strange passions...so that in the future I will be able to read this and find even more answers to life’s question marks.

Every little detail counts in the little adventure through a woman’s mind in various moments of her life.

What I want to do is comment parts that I find relevant in my journals, since the very beginning, and make a retrospective of them in my current line of thoughts, based on my current experiences. It doesn’t really matter what my life story is, time and place aren’t decisive aspects here, although important. What matters here are the emotions, reactions, attitudes, decisions that took place in the different moments in my life. I hope a lot of women (maybe men too) can relate to these moments because that’s all this book really is about, moments.

My very first journal was written in 1987. And it’s funny that while I was writing this, the song that was playing on the radio was “Jack and Diane” by John Cougar Mellancamp, in which at a certain part he says “hold on to 16 as long as you can, changes come around real soon make us women and men”. Coincidences are interesting, as well as a valuable resource of information.

I will only select the passages that I remember having more impact on my life, then and now. The very first page of my debut journal goes as follows.

May 5th 1988

Dear Mr. D
I know it’s a little late to start writing journals, but I decided...well, since my life has been changing radically, I’ll start writing what goes on. I think I might have changed in the past few months and I can’t say these were for the worst, but for the best. School is going OK, except I can’t cope with several things. One of them being the fact that most of my classes are under basic level, and that means lower level, and also, that people attending these classes are under-graded or have terrible grades. Not that I’m complaining. Another thing is the fact that I’m 16 years old and still a freshmen in High School. I know that’s not a big problem, but I don’t like it and it’s not because I feel stupid, but because I would like to mature more and grow in many ways with my classes. I don’t think It can happen...
“...I like school, but I don’t feel I’m going to use it much, although I know you should go to school because it’s a place where you find opportunities that never end, and be a person later on. I have learned to be myself throughout the years, and don’t need school, even though it taught me about Science and Math’s. That’s beneficial. Well, that’s ok by me, I know I have to go to school, bur forget College!!


Dear Mr. D. is how I began my journals, but I think I droped it after a while because I wasn’t sure who I was referring to anymore. I know initially I meant Mr. Diary.

I will admit that this was a presumptuous beginning for a 16 year old. I think this was, if not is one of my many flaws. I was very annoying at times. I remember my older sisters making constant remarks on my superior attitude. I recognize that today, but I think it’s was mostly due to the fact that I had a lot of complexes, and that was the I found to defend myself. When I said that I didn’t need school, what I really felt was like a stranger in the middle of all the other teenagers. I didn’t like myself as It appears in these words. I felt I wasn’t accepted by the others, either because I wasn’t pretty enough, thin enough American enough. So the way I found to escape all this was by believing I was just different, more intellectual, more experienced. Not that I wasn’t being honest in the things I wrote, I was actually expressing what I believed at this point.

The end of this passage is very coherent. I never went to college. I tried once, but I didn’t get in, and never attempted again. I now regret it of course, but it’s not something I give much thought to.

Another thing I was very self-conscious about was my body, so I tried all sorts of diets and exercise routines. I used to go down to the basement, put some music on and just dance for a few hours. I pretended to be the Flashdance dancer or Madonna or something to inspire me. It was kind of silly, but truth is I felt really good afterwards. I always loved dancing and had dancing classes at school. But I could never reconcile exercise with food. Dieting was a huge sacrifice for me. And it still is!

May 28th 1988

“ Yesterday I had to practice my new dance routine, which I still don’t have. I’m having a hard time finding the steps, although I already have the song...”

"One more thing, yesterday I stuffed myself with pizza in school, and at home. I know, I know...I feel sooo guilty but It was Friday and I got carried away.”


This was a frequent sentiment I had. It was a fierce dilemma. At that age, we shouldn’t have to worry this much about our weight and figure, but it happens with most teenagers, it’s a fact. I don’t even remember the role models at the time, but I remember vividly disliking my body. So exercised a bit, but didn’t accomplish much weight loss because I had a hard time with diets, I enjoyed eating (and still do) and when I deprived myself from the things I liked, I got depressed.
I’m running through the next pages and I’m realizing how much I wrote! Most of the things aren’t really relevant, but a few things caught my attention, like for example, I noticed how many sleepless nights I had. I suffered from insomnia, and I don’t even remember this.

June 11th 1998

“It’s about 2 AM and I can’t go to sleep. It seams I’ve been having many cases of insomnia. Yesterday I dreamt that my Hamster was eaten by the cats (again). I guess I worry too much...”


Isn’t funny the reasons we have sleepless nights when we’re young? Not to undermine the problems, some felt pretty serious and very real … that is, until you discover boys of course. But that’s later on. At this point I wasn’t really interested in boys, except for a couple of teenage idols at the time. I preferred to dream with boys I knew I would never have than to deal with ‘real’ boys.

There was one thing I remember liking a lot: children. I began babysitting early. It was a good source of income, and allowed by to have a little sense of autonomy. I don’t really recall what I did with my money, but I remember feeling good about it I also enjoyed the feeling of being in charge. When I was very little, I liked pretending to be either a mother, or a teacher. And later on, I got the chance to practice it with babysitting. And usually, I enjoyed it. I think I only regretted taking a job once.

June 22nd 1988

“ Today was a very hectic day. For starters, I agreed to baby-sit Bradford, this spoiled little brat that Debbie baby-sat. Actually, it was only one day. Anyway, I already knew how this kids worked, I have seen him in action at Debbie’s . It all started kind of smoothly, but after the first hour, talk about jungle life!! All the kid wanted me to do was to carry (all the time). I decided to straighten him out...so what I did was I ignored his yelling – boy was it hard – until he finally stopped. It went on like this for 9 hours, I couldn’t stand it. I’m supposed to baby-sit him tomorrow and the day after, but I told the lady that I couldn’t stand him anymore, and that I wouldn’t baby-sit him anymore. Of course she wasn’t very happy, but what was I supposed to do? “


Sometimes I was cruel, but only a bit. I really didn’t mean to be, sometimes what I felt at a given moment just came out, I didn’t see it as a bad thing. Most of the time, I was very quiet and reserved. This is one of those traits I still have. I was always very skeptic about taking, I prefer writing, but sometimes, if something really ticks me off, I might say a few words I regret later.

Debbie was our next door neighbor. She was British and lived with her husband and their two kids: Martin and Lucy, I still remember both of their pretty faces as if it was today. They were both very blond and had big blue eyes. They were beautiful children, and a great company. We became very close to this family almost from the first day they moved into the neighborhood. I still miss them a lot, but never heard from them since we left the U.S. to live in Portugal, the place where I have been living in since then.

The following pages of my diary have nothing relevant. But I just came to the part where my first true love story began. The first trace of this story is referred in a diary dated July.

July 13th 1988

“...speaking of Debbie, here’s something interesting that happened last week between her and Claudia...”

Claudia is my younger sister. She was twelve at the time. The swimming pool referred to was the neighborhood pool. That’s where we spent most of the summer days.

“ ... They were at the pool and there is this new lifeguard (cute). Anyway, Claudia made the big mistake of telling Debbie he was cute. Then Debbie told him (Mike) what Claudia had said. According to Debbie, Claudia turned into an erupting volcano. After that, Claudia never stepped into the pool again. Actually, she finally went there...”

We can’t really tell what was going on in my mind at this very point, but I think I remember something. It’s seams I was in a sort of denial trance. I remember knowing that my sister had a crush on Mike the life-guard, and having the feeling that somehow, it wasn’t very nice to want the boy that your sister was interested in. I resisted, but at the same time, I knew he had touched me for some reason, from the first day I saw him. And here, things were complicating because here I was, at the verge of meeting a world new sensations, and my family was getting ready to move to another country. This was certainly the worst time I had in my teenage years. Forget the weight dilemmas and the social complexes; I was in for a real emotional adventure.

July 17th 1988

“It’s getting closer to the day we are leaving. Don’t get me wrong, I really want to leave. It’s other things that bother me. You probably already know about my social life, I could puke for what my life, hell, I can’t even build my memories. All I do is just stay home and blame myself for everything that has been happening. What else is there to do? I don’t want to tell my problem to a piece of paper, but it sure helps, since I can’t talk to anyone about it, not even my parents. I just don’t think they would understand..”

I can’t figure out what was bothering me exactly. Maybe the fact that we were leaving a place where I had almost settled in, maybe for leaving my friends. I didn’t have many, but I was evidently feeling very sad about something. Today I know the reasons we had to leave, but at the time, I couldn’t understand why my parents would want to leave a place like that and deprive us of the life we arranged there. After a few years I understood that leaving was necessary, and that my parents also felt bad about taking us out of there. We always traveled, and it was never a problem for any of us, but this time it was different, I was staring to feel new emotions and hated the fact that just as this was finally happening, I had to leave. Life is ironic from the very start, and there is nothing we can do about it. I spent three years in America and nothing special ever happened, except for now. And for me, it felt like the entire world was plotting against me, I couldn’t really understand. It still remains a mystery because to this day, I don’t know what my purpose here is. I could accept it if coming here meant I was destined to live something significant, but I’m still to find out what that purpose is.

But I was living something important that moment. I felt it in my heart and as afraid as I was, deep inside, I knew something was about to happen. Even so, I continued denying it to myself.

July 21st 1988

“... anyway, today I didn’t even go to the pool. In fact, it’s been several days since I’ve been to the pool. And one of the reasons is I don’t want to find the lifeguard there . His name is Mike and he is fairly cute. But I can’t stand him sometimes, and whenever I got there I feel left out...”

I was already feeling a secret crush on this handsome lifeguard, but didn’t want to admit it, not even to my diary. When I said I felt left out, it was because I thought he didn’t pay any attention to me. And we know how that can affect a teenage girl in the peek of sensitivity. All sorts of feeling comes as a result: rejection, complex, you name it. When I analyze it in my current perspective, and because this sort of negative feedback happened in many other occasions in my life, I come to the conclusion that my shyness wasn’t a favorable characteristic. I wasn’t shy because I wanted to, but because I could not perceive the possibility of someone being attracted to me. I was clumsy, I didn’t feel pretty enough and filtered these emotions in a shell disguised as shyness. I haven’t lost the shyness, but I learned to like myself the way I am, and that is a big help. When you hear people say that self esteem is the key to your wellbeing, it’s no lie. It took me a long time like myself, but something triggered that. Later on I will try to figure out what did. A big part of life is about self discovery, and that’s what I’m doing right now as I try to recover the last 15 years of my life in an attempt to discover myself. I don’t have and end, I’m really just writing what I feel as I go. And the beauty in this “mission” is that each day I feel different, I see things in different way. I think we all do. But I believe, as a woman, that I’m living better years now than in my teen years. Right now, I’m going through the near thirties phase, but that’s a bridge I’m fighting to cross with serenity. I haven’t found the calm I want, but I think I’ll find it. I have to.

As time went by, I grew founder of Michael, and it began to show.

August 7th 1988

“I have told you about the new lifeguard, Mike. I see him everyday and I always com this close to speaking to him, but it never worked. Today I had decided to talk to Mike but he wasn’t there! I don’t know why life is so cruel...I’ll probably never see him again. And I’m just about to leave. At first he was nothing but another pretty face, but after seeing him for a while...well it’s too late now. If I had known It would have done something about it...”

Of course I wouldn’t have done anything. If I knew it would be the last day I would see him, I would have done absolutely nothing. I’d probably have gone to the pool and stood there like a moron waiting for a miracle or something to happen. He was absent for some reason and hadn’t been at the pool, but I thought it permanent, and felt awful for letting the chance of knowing him slide by.

In the next lines I describe Michael. If I hadn’t written this down, I probably wouldn’t know how to describe him. I remember very vaguely what he looked like. But here is what I wrote at the time.

“...Now I little about Mike. He’s about 5’9, very tanned and thin, but has great shoulders. He has a great smile and beautiful hazel green eyes. Everyone likes him. He is really sweet. He isn’t gorgeous, but I really don’t care.”

I don’t remember him being gorgeous, but he was handsome, and he was my type...well at least he was at the time. Sometimes I close my eyes and try to vision his face on my mind, but the only thing that comes up are the green in his eyes, his tanned skin and the light brown hair that he always brushed away from his eyes. The image I registered in my memory is almost that of an angel. That’s what he represents in my life after all these years. It doesn’t really matter where he is and what he is doing. What stayed with me was a kind of legacy that you only read of in novels.

Let me return to the journal.
July was over and nothing special was registered. I was feeling bored and anxious about leaving. Since my belief was that I wouldn’t see Michael again, I was ready to embrace the idea of living in Portugal and accept reality. Until one fine day, when I had a nice surprise.

August 20th 1988

“You must be wondering what the hell happened to me. What happened was everything I ever asked for, so how come I’m sad? Because I’m leaving, that’s why. As you already know, Mike was told about me and wanted to call me and he did. It was on Friday at about 9:30 PM. It was really wonderful. He was sweet and caring and the next day I went over to the pool and we talked some more, in fact, I stayed there all day. That was when Claudia met him also. I’ve been going there to meet him. He asked me out on Friday but my mom won’t let me. Well, I still have time"

Before I proceed with this portion of the journal, a few comments.
I don’t remember the conversation we had on the phone. I remember it was very, very long and that I was incredulous that he would take his time to talk to me that long on the phone. My feelings grew even stronger as I began discovering him. He represented the ideal boyfriend, tender, caring, witty, intelligent... in other words, perfect. Of course later on in life we discover that things are not quite as simple, but to me, all this was perfect, just like a dream.
After I had written about the problems I was having with my parents, I went on to say
“... I really like him and I think it’s so unfair that i have to leave and never see him again. I sure will miss him. I will never forgive my parents if they don’t let me go on this date.”

I was being a bit harsh on my parents, but at the time, I didn’t accept it.

Generally, things tend to gain a strange intensity and proportion when you’re in love, no matter how old you are. But young love is very special. When you fall in love at the age of 16, you don’t care for the future, you just want to be there at that moment, to feel your heart almost bursting out of your body, and anticipating the arrival of this person that makes you feel this way. Suddenly, nothing else matters. Every obstacle becomes a delicious challenge. No war, no earthquake or hurricane can make a difference. It’s the most wonderful feeling, until, of course you meet real heartbreak. The only heartbreak I knew so far was when the boys I was attracted to do’ like me or pay attention to me. I hadn’t experienced the kind of heartbreak brought in by separation. Well, I had a taste of it once when I was about 12, but I got over it very quickly. I felt sad because I had left my sweetheart of the moment behind, but it was nothing that damaged my perspective of love and life in general. My family moved around frequently but as I grew, the results of the changes aggravated. When I left America, that was when my perspectives really took a blow. It was as if a part of me was being torn apart. I felt an enormous void inside and nothing made sense anymore.

August 17th, 1988

“... today I’ve got some good news...Mike the lifeguard is back! Believe it or not, Claudia spent the entire afternoon at the pool. Boy, talk about a crush. And I thought I liked him! “

Although this was an exciting moment, for some reason it didn’t seam to have a great impact on me. During the days in which I thought he had left for good, I began to focus in the moving details, but that was only because I was resigned and had to concentrate on something else. But after I found out he was back, I again pushed back my feelings towards him. I think another thing forced me to focus on anything but Michael and that was the fact that I believed he was interested in my sister, rather than in me. And the way I found to challenge this was to concentrate on the only other imminent thing, the final trip to Portugal.

But, since life always plays little tricks on us, I was in for another sweet surprise, that exact same day. After I had written about Mike’s return, my next line went as follows.

“Same day, 10:40 PM...hello again! I’m back to tell you about something that just can’t wait. Debbie called me 5 minutes ago telling me that she spoke to Mike and asked if he knew about me and what he thought about me. It turned out he said I was cute and nice. I still can’t believe it! And on top of it, she gave him my phone number and he was supposed to call me sometime tonight. My mom just asked me what Debbie wanted and I tried to lie, but she didn’t believe me. She really hates the idea of Debbie getting me into this but I told her that i wasn’t going to do anything stupid or foolish and I guess she understood. I like the fact that my parents car about me and are afraid that I get involved too soon, but I hope God helps me with this one. I should feel happy, but after talking to my parents, I’m not so sure any. I’m really confused , and Claudia doesn’t even know about this. The truth is, I’ve got too much on my mind right now and I don’t know what to do.”

As I wrote this part, It looks as if I wasn’t even worried about the punctuation. All sorts of emotions where erupting quickly and intensely, making me feel extremely confused and excited at the same time. I knew something very special and accelerating was beginning but had no idea how to deal with it.

And besides all other obstacles that seam to appear in young passion stories, I had to deal with the fact that my parents were very apprehensive about all this, specially my mother. Not that she didn’t want or allow me to date boys, but because she couldn’t bring herself to trust a total stranger, which was what Michael was to them. The other problem seams to have been my sister, but I soon discovered that she was just a sub-conscience excuse for me to try to escape from something new and possibly dangerous. I didn’t feel worthy of this newfound sensation, but still I couldn’t fight it, it was too strong and exciting.

When I remember the entire situation now, I smile inside because it was indeed very special, and still is. This episode of my life represents a tattoo, it will never fade. I still think about Michael and wonder where he is, if he married, what he does for a living, if she is happy, and specially, if he remembers me at all. We only exchanged a few letters after I left, but in his last letter, I knew it was over and that I would probably never hear from him again. But that’s another episode, I will save it for later because I’m sure I have this registered in some page of my diaries, if not in many pages.

Well, after the whole confusion moment, things started take shape.

August 24th, 1988

“...This might be the last journal I write this week before we leave. I might write something on the plane, but right now, that’s all...Today wasn’t a very good day. I think Mike is mad or sad because my parents won’t let me go to the movies with him. My dad might let me. We’ll see”

This must have been one of our last days in the U.S. It would be my last “american” journal, so to speak, and the sure end of a dream. The fact that my parents, were reticent in allowing me to go out with Michael made everything seam even more sad and anguishing. What is it that causes this incredible sense of emptiness inside us? As experience has taught me, this sense of void repeats itself every time we feel something is missing in our lives or about to disappear. Most of the time, you can’t exactly pinpoint the reason why you feel that way, you just do. In this particular situation, I didn’t believe anything or anyone could ever fill that blank space I had in me. I could foresee my next days, weeks, even months, and they were dark and sad. I know now that times helps heal sorrows, but during this phase in my life, time was my worst enemy, because I thought I would never forget Michael. I never did forget him, sometimes I wonder where he is, what he is doing, if he’s married and has children, if he’s happy...I kept his memory in a very harm and safe place in my heart, and it will always be there...this, I’m certain of.

On the next passage, I describe my one and only date with prince charming.

August 27th, 1988

“Well, guess what? That’s right, the trip is over. We are now at the Lisbon airport. I can’t believe it! I should start by telling you about my date with Mike. Well, it wasn’t at night, and we didn’t go to the movies, but it was much better.
....First, we took a long drive, he showed me his school and other places. It was so beautiful. Then he surprised me by taking me to this nice place with a big lake and a ferry boat. We stayed there for a while. Afterwards, he took me to a mexican restaurant (very romantic) and we ate chicken burritos. It was great, but huge! He seamed to be having a great time, except for some of the times, when he was really quiet. I think we both felt the same. At about 1:30 PM we arrived at the pool and I had to leave. It was hard saying goodbye. I gave him a big strong hug. It was really sad because I nearly cried. This day was both the worst and the best day of my life. I kept thinking about him in the plane, but it’s too late now. He did tell me he would call. I sure hope so...”

He never called. He wrote me three very warm letters - which I have kept all these years like a precious treasure - but that was it...I never heard from him since. But since there are surely passages where I write about this, so I will delay the comments and thought about that.

One thing that caught my particular attention in this passage is the feeling of those few hours spent with Michael having been both the best and worst “in my life”. I smile inside as this funny notion crosses my mind. It’s amazing how your expectations and ideas change as you grow. The way I cried the entire trip, as if the entire world was collapsing around me, this was the ultimate sensation of suffering and pain. I couldn’t care less about what was happening around me or if the world ended at that moment. Needless to say, and not wanting to underestimate the pain of being separated from the person you’re in live with, I learned that compared to so many other ordeals, this sort of suffering is a blessing. The thing about growing up is that the good things become a battle to obtain, while the not so good things start appearing all around us and out of nowhere. Now I know they where always around me, I just didn’t notice them because I was busy dealing with my own adolescent dilemmas. Fortunately, I had the privilege of not having to worry about certain things, many don’t. Nonetheless, growing up makes us aware of things, too aware.

The next journals have nothing very interesting to report. In most of them, I go on and on about how sad I was and how mush I missed Michael and the States, and how much I hated being in Portugal...the expected reaction. The only thing I looked forward to was his letter. Other than that, I was pretty much going through the motions.
Until the day I finally received a letter from Michael. A little more than a month had gone by since the last passage.

October 11th, 1988

“Long time no see...Well this time I have a good excuse. The book got lost.
By the way, we’ve already moved to the new house. Anyway, the reason I’m writing is that yesterday was the best day of my life here in Portugal! I got a letter from Mike! You won’t believe how happy I am. I just can’t help being silly now. I’m going to school next, so I can’t write much, but I will let you in on the juicy details later.”

I don’t know what happened after the last journal, but as I turn the next page, I see that there wasn’t a “later”. I don’t exactly remember what the “juicy details” were, but I do remember being completely hysterical. I must have read the letter twenty times or more, as if I trying to find something new each time I read it.
The next journal is dated December 28th! This is what it says.

December 28th, 1988

“...Ok, so I lost track of time. I just found the notebook and thought It might be a good idea to write on the last pages, a brief journal of the past weeks. And since it’s almost 1989, I will start a brand new notebook. Everything is OK. Hopes of going back to America are still high, except for my mom...she’s afraid and sorry because of the house. Regarding Mike and America, I still miss Mike, but I don’t think about him as much as before. And regarding America, well, I miss it more and more. I do hope we go back. I see no future here for me”

I have to admit, I had a natural born tendency to dramatize things. What could I possible have meant by “no future here for me”? I hadn’t been there long enough to know, I hadn’t lived any negative experience (so far). What did I know? The only reason I can remember that might have contributed to this negative perspective is the fact that socially, I was finding it very hard to fit in. In the first days of school, when I was a novelty, it was nice because everyone flattered me and was curious to know stuff about America. At the time, very little information (except for the movies) came in from the outside. And since America was like a big taboo, everyone was excited to know what strange creature it had created. To my surprise (at the time), the first days’ excitement faded quickly. Then, I realized how naive I was, to think that it would be this easy to make a bunch of friends. I was left with a group of three or four girlfriends, and they remained my buddies, at least until high school was over. Everyone was so different than the kids I knew in America, that I can’t even begin to describe the differences. But what really mattered was the fact that I wasn’t fitting in, and didn’t even make an effort in that sense. Since my thoughts were still in the States, and I hoped we would return, I didn’t give a damn if people liked me or not. I’m almost sure that, in their eyes, I was somewhat of a freak. Nowadays freaks go by almost unnoticed, even in Portugal, which is a country that only in the last decade caught up with universal patterns of fashion, society, communication, etc..