Guilty Mind
Chapter One
‘The life of a man is a struggle on earth. But without a cross, without a struggle, we get nowhere. The victory will be ours if we continue our efforts courageously, even when at time they appear futile.’
I read that somewhere once. Perhaps in a poetry book. The reading choices were extremely limited in juvenile. Most of the books were outdated. Still, I found comfort going back in time where I didn’t exist, yet I found that history repeats itself just in different ways with new generations.
I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It was actually what kept me from spending life in prison. When I didn’t react to what would have been a natural response from a 15-year-old girl, I had to do a psych evaluation. It was a mild case in the end. I was normal for the most part. However, once I was out I had to do some counseling.
I spent three years in juvenile and the whole time it felt like an out of body experience. I had made some friends. I had made some enemies, not that it was my intention. Some girls just had issues from when they look at you and suddenly hated your face. Three years I had wasted my life away. Thinking back, I was a different person whom I barely recognized and found it hard to believe this happened to me.
Today, I was going home.
Today, I was starting over.
It had been a while since I last saw everyone. My sister was the only person ever to visit me. I hadn’t seen anyone else in three years. Time felt longer as a teenager than as an adult. Three years had gone by and I didn’t know what I would be coming home to, if I were even welcomed.
Stop. Just thinking about it was causing my anxieties to act up. It was related to my PTSD.
It felt good to be free again as I stepped outside the gates of the premises. Hell, I wasn’t even entitled to my own opinion inside that place. If I mouthed off, I would get scowled and punished because the discipline in that place was brutal. What was that saying about prison changes a man or something. Well, I certainly wasn’t the same girl I once was.
Outside the gates was my assigned probation officer waiting for me. She was dressed casually as she leaned on the hood of the car with a cold drink in one hand staring at the empty road ahead of her. This place was in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirt of the city. It was a ghost town to me, and the only color was the sun trying to fit into this grey world.
Without a word, we both got in the car and she drove off putting distance between that depressing place and me. I felt relieved knowing that I was out of there. It was hard. I cried many nights for a long time. I was homesick. I was filled with regrets. I dealt with the consequences, but I had yet to accept what happened that night I got arrested.
I knew I was going home, but we ended up making a little detour first. She pulled over to the side of the road and parked the car.
“I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
She got out of the car before I realized what was happening. I hurried after her and we entered this old-fashioned diner restaurant that had Elvis Presley posters hanging up on the walls, among other famous singers from the way back when.
“Hey Sally, the usual please,” she said to the waitress behind the counter as she walks over to a empty booth.
“Stay out of trouble and I’ll be out of your life before you know it,” she asked bluntly.
I didn’t say anything. I was afraid to say the wrong thing. I began to overanalyzed everything in my head again, which not surprisingly, brought me back to figuring out how I got into this whole mess.
“Stop that,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.
I looked at her, baffled by her sudden comment.
“I was told about your illness. You were frowning so hard; new lines were forming on your forehead. You’ll drive yourself insane if you keep thinking the same thing over and over.”
Again, I didn’t respond. The food and drink had arrived and she began eating. I looked over her shoulder out the window and watched people walk by, living their life as though all was right in the world.
The worse part about all of this was that I lost the support from my family and my friends along the way. Instead of helping me, they just let me fall where there was no one to catch me. I had hit rock bottoms and when I didn’t like it there, I was thrown into a place where I had to dig my way out. I just wished they had done something to prevent this, or were they too afraid? Was this a life lesson that I had to learn on my own?
I read that somewhere once. Perhaps in a poetry book. The reading choices were extremely limited in juvenile. Most of the books were outdated. Still, I found comfort going back in time where I didn’t exist, yet I found that history repeats itself just in different ways with new generations.
I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It was actually what kept me from spending life in prison. When I didn’t react to what would have been a natural response from a 15-year-old girl, I had to do a psych evaluation. It was a mild case in the end. I was normal for the most part. However, once I was out I had to do some counseling.
I spent three years in juvenile and the whole time it felt like an out of body experience. I had made some friends. I had made some enemies, not that it was my intention. Some girls just had issues from when they look at you and suddenly hated your face. Three years I had wasted my life away. Thinking back, I was a different person whom I barely recognized and found it hard to believe this happened to me.
Today, I was going home.
Today, I was starting over.
It had been a while since I last saw everyone. My sister was the only person ever to visit me. I hadn’t seen anyone else in three years. Time felt longer as a teenager than as an adult. Three years had gone by and I didn’t know what I would be coming home to, if I were even welcomed.
Stop. Just thinking about it was causing my anxieties to act up. It was related to my PTSD.
It felt good to be free again as I stepped outside the gates of the premises. Hell, I wasn’t even entitled to my own opinion inside that place. If I mouthed off, I would get scowled and punished because the discipline in that place was brutal. What was that saying about prison changes a man or something. Well, I certainly wasn’t the same girl I once was.
Outside the gates was my assigned probation officer waiting for me. She was dressed casually as she leaned on the hood of the car with a cold drink in one hand staring at the empty road ahead of her. This place was in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirt of the city. It was a ghost town to me, and the only color was the sun trying to fit into this grey world.
Without a word, we both got in the car and she drove off putting distance between that depressing place and me. I felt relieved knowing that I was out of there. It was hard. I cried many nights for a long time. I was homesick. I was filled with regrets. I dealt with the consequences, but I had yet to accept what happened that night I got arrested.
I knew I was going home, but we ended up making a little detour first. She pulled over to the side of the road and parked the car.
“I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
She got out of the car before I realized what was happening. I hurried after her and we entered this old-fashioned diner restaurant that had Elvis Presley posters hanging up on the walls, among other famous singers from the way back when.
“Hey Sally, the usual please,” she said to the waitress behind the counter as she walks over to a empty booth.
“Stay out of trouble and I’ll be out of your life before you know it,” she asked bluntly.
I didn’t say anything. I was afraid to say the wrong thing. I began to overanalyzed everything in my head again, which not surprisingly, brought me back to figuring out how I got into this whole mess.
“Stop that,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.
I looked at her, baffled by her sudden comment.
“I was told about your illness. You were frowning so hard; new lines were forming on your forehead. You’ll drive yourself insane if you keep thinking the same thing over and over.”
Again, I didn’t respond. The food and drink had arrived and she began eating. I looked over her shoulder out the window and watched people walk by, living their life as though all was right in the world.
The worse part about all of this was that I lost the support from my family and my friends along the way. Instead of helping me, they just let me fall where there was no one to catch me. I had hit rock bottoms and when I didn’t like it there, I was thrown into a place where I had to dig my way out. I just wished they had done something to prevent this, or were they too afraid? Was this a life lesson that I had to learn on my own?
♠ ♠ ♠
I redid the first chapter because the storyline was a little messy. Now that it's cleaned up, I will be moving this story forward a lot better.Comment!
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