I want to tell you something, Susan.

EVERY BLESSED TIME I SIT DOWN TO WRITE I SUFFER ANXIETY.

There, I have said it.

I worry so much about someone reading me who knows my past.

It's a crippling fear.

In the last couple of days I have read Michele Maize's story about the treatment of her daughter. It's been a sad read and I shared with her that I SHOULD write about my daughter.

BUT, I know I'd be terrified my daughter would read it and would be angry.

The thing is, for the most part she's put to bed the things that she suffered at the hands not just of her teacher, but of other teachers who chose to ignore what was happening, and for the most part she's moved on.

But that teacher's treatment of her had huge ramifications for my child, for many years thereafter.

THIS is why we write Susan.

We write to make a difference.

People who make a difference are often frightened by their words.

Right now I am relating this story to my husband (who was away a lot when things were crumbling) and the tears are as fresh as they were all this years ago.

I need o write, because who knows how many will find a common thread?

Courage, Susan. Go write.