She sat across the table from us crossing and uncrossing her legs. Pushing herself up in the chair, shifting back and forth. Fingernails scratching endlessly, her knee, back arching to scratch her flank, then her head tilts to the side to itch behind her ear. She looks at me intently, then switches to the psychiatrist next to me, back and forth, and back. She wears a pink tank top and a shirt worn as a skirt that reaches nowhere near her mid-thigh. A smile on her face never pausing in her speech for a reaction.
"I just need some passes I feel so couped up in here there's no air I need some fresh air I have to go to my NA meeting tomorrow its not that I don't like it here I just get so bored just give me a chance to prove to you guys that I can do this I swear I didn't touch his pipe yesterday he just blew the smoke in my face that's why the test was positive I just need some passes I'm so done with him he stole my check he said he was going to make money with it but he just smoked it all away I told him he can't visit me anymore because he tried to sell me drugs after that and why would I stay with him a boyfriend should give me drugs if he's dealing I just need a pass just to go for a walk and get some fresh air."
She is young. On the streets since she was a teen and has never been in a relationship where she wasn't abused and taken advantage of. Its not a unique story. She's friendly with a bright smile and her slightly spread eyes give a hint of fetal alcohol syndrome. She turns a trick now and then when she runs out of money which she needs for her fairly substantial crack/cocaine addiction. Her mood is upbeat as she shifts and squirms in her seat. A disposition that turn directly to tears and irritability when we tell her she can only go on pass with staff. Her outfit has changed four times in the last 15 minutes before the interview. The girl is practically hopping in her chair and being eaten alive by her cravings. There is no doubt in our minds that as soon as she is discharged or goes on pass she'll use again.
So how does one react? Do I feel pity for her? Is she a hopeless case? Does she bring this cycle of sexual abuse and drugs on herself? Drugs that cause terrifying hallucinations of bodies being hacked to pieces that bring her into hospital.
I can't. I feel none of those things. I see her as a young woman who never had a chance. Who society has failed starting several generations ago. It makes something burn inside of me, something bittersweet. Her actions don't frustrate me. Her return to crack and her abuser don't surprise me anymore. I see smoldering hope in her eyes, and I don't THINK its just the bloodshotness.
I'm learning a lot about inner-city life. I know how much crack is a lot of crack, I know which the less seedy of seedy downtown hotels are and I know how to ask how quickly their check has gone to what drugs. But my problem is that I still trust people. And yes, its a problem but I see myself changing, for better or worse I'm not sure. My naive questions about abuse are now worded very differently, the queries about sex trade now flow naturally off my tongue. People hurt each other and they lie, steal, and cheat. My conundrum that I repeatedly come back to is how to keep my skin thick and my heart soft. For life to make any sense I have to believe that people are good, we're all just out there doing our best, a bunch of people trying to be. Each one of us with flaws and baggage.
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