Sticks and Stones

Writer, DIANE D’AMICOEducation. “First Day of School Year Includes Bonus at Cedar Creek High School: First Senior Class.” Press of Atlantic City, 5 Sept. 2012, www.pressofatlanticcity.com/communities/hammonton_egg-harbor-city/first-day-of-school-year-includes-bonus-at-cedar-creek/article_81cee978-f6d2-11e1-87d6-001a4bcf887a.html.

                                                                  

                  “SLUT” The word resounded off the walls of the cafeteria, and all eyes turned either to Marc or me. Marc smiled as no one stood up to contradict him,  the eyes of the school then turned to rest on me, the “Slut.”  I felt the heat rush up my to neck and to my face, turning it as red as the tray I held in my hands. Still in shock, I slowly looked around for a friend, a comrade, to go to and sit with. Someone to talk to and block these stares from my mind. But no such person emerged. As I looked around, the eyes previously boring holes into me, slunk away to avoid being singled out. The shame of the situation made me run with the words resounding in my head with every step “Slut, slut, slut, slut, slut…” 

                   
                  I am in the waiting room filling out the stack of papers that need to be completed before my abortion in a half an hour. It will be my second abortion this year, and who knows whose baby it is. I’ve been in and out of relationships for months now.  Sleeping around with just about any guy. It felt great when they call me beautiful and special, take me on dates and give me flowers. When I’m with guys I feel like I am worth something, and I  tune out the words that run through my head in a never-ending song “Slut, slut, slut, slut...”. The only problem is that those guys leave me with more emotional and physical problems then I started with. In this relationship I have been left  with a child. I cannot take care of a child; I’m a 20 year old women living off her parents money, in a crappy apartment, in and out of jobs, a college dropout, and I don’t have a good life myself. How can I give a child a good life?  As I sit here, all alone, I try not to think of the child growing within in me.  How in a couple of hours this life inside me will not exist anymore. As these depressing thoughts flash through my mind,  a vibrating sound catches my attention, and momentarily breaks my train of thought. “Christine” is displayed on the front of my phone and I decline. If my sister knew what I was doing she would talk me out of it; but how can she, with her husband, children, and idyllic life understand that I can’t take care of  a child. I go back to examining the bland, generic waiting room. I am soon called into the operating room, and put under.  When I leave a few hours later I am still trying to convince myself that I made the right decision to end a life I created. And I try fruitlessly to tune out the hear the word “slut” that, now sung in a chorus of unborn children's voices, echoes in my head at a louder pitch than ever.  

                   
                  I hold the bottle up to my lips, washing down the pills.  I look around at the shabby apartment that is paid for by my parents.  I try to remember what my therapist told me this time. It was something along the lines of,  “ Know who you really are, love yourself...Pay attention to the good things in life...Think of your niece who just visited. Don't you want to be a good role model?”  Well, its 17 years too late for that. Only last month I squandered any chance I had with my niece. I was trying to be sober, but being sober is harder than you think.  I only left my niece to get one small drink…it puts my anxiety at ease.   Unfortunately, that lie turned into enough drinks to get me put in the hospital, and not for the first time.  Lucky, when taken to the hospital this time, I was not on any drugs. I want to be better; I want to be sober. I want to be a good role model. But how can I, when I have done so many bad things?    Even now I hear the words in rhythm with the pounding of my headache “Slut, slut, slut, slut…”  Sticks and stones may break my bones...but that lie has forever hurt me. 

                     
                I wake up the next morning to a bright beam of sunlight shining directly on my face. I feel heavy and the pounding headache from the alcohol and pills the night before doesn't help. As I get up and start to make myself breakfast I think over my life so far. I have failed life so far I am a  college dropout,  become addicted to drugs and an alcoholic, aborted 5 children, dated guys who abused me, and I have ignored my families help. Regret is a cycle I often find myself in.  What if I just stopped?  People, do it every day don't they? Why have I let one word ruin my life?  I glance down at my phone and decide that I am not going to let my past become my legacy.  I am going to build a future that is better than my life so far. Recovery of my mindset is going to be a long and very hard journey, but as I hold my phone up to my ear, and I hear it ringing, I find that I can no longer hear anything except my hope for the future.