August 25, 2002 | 11:18 a.m.
Just finished training. Kicked my butt.

This week has been a miserable one.

After I wrote my last entry I decided that I had to get out. Usually when I feel miserable, I drive (hence the whole eleven miles Dustin drove me to last time) -- but I didn't really want to see anyone, so I turned up the radio, turned my cell phone on silent, and drove 100 on the interstate until I felt better.

and then suddenly I was there; I was drawn to it. As soon as I knew it was close, I knew why I picked that interstate, that direction. It all made sense, and I felt like if I could just see it, it would come together in my head. I needed to find the place I grew up, the place where I learned who I was. I longed to find the place that taught me how to do the things I hate, that drilled that ounce of self-esteem into me, that kept me alive when nothing else could. I had to see the place that started me on milk and into solids and eventually an entire meal and forced me to keep it inside.

And all I knew was that it was on Tulane.

i drove and drove, and when I looked at the time, I realized I had been MIA for about three hours. Then I saw it, with the big oaks in the front lawn. From far away it looked nice, although I know the truth about what goes on inside of those gates. I got close enough to see what I needed to see and quickly turned around.

I don't know if it was a healing experience or not, but I started to feel better. Maybe I just needed to get away. Maybe I needed to be alone with the radio blaring loud. Maybe I just needed to see New Orleans and the beauty it (can) bring... To think that my mom drove that same drive, every day, the whole time I was there.

Visiting hour was at 6:00 pm and she came right after work. Most of the time, all I wanted to do was listen to a CD and play with the fake plants they have in the visiting room. I didn't ever have anything to say to her except for "please being me home" to which she would always tear up and look away. She wanted me home, but she also wanted me well. They wouldn't have let her take me, anyway.

I spent the days in my room reading pages and pages of books - Stephen King's _The_Shining_, John Grisham novels -- none took more than two days to get through.

I remember the girl from terrytown that thought that by starving her body she could kill the child inside her womb. She couldn't understand that she almost killed herself.

I remember the boy who's father was gay and was dying of AIDS; I remember the boys that snorted sweet-and-low in attempt to bring back the coke high they longed for. I remember the nights that I would sit in bed and pray to God for my body and mind to heal so I could leave that place and never return. But I did last night. Even if only for a moment.

I made it through.

Laura

"The poetry that comes from the squaring off between, and the circling is worth it/ Finding beauty in the dissonance"

before | after

miss me?

make a difference - July 12, 2007
in short - February 20, 2007
gameday - October 14, 2006
quickie - October 02, 2006
roxie bear - July 06, 2006