The diary entry that follows is purely fictional. None of the situations expressed are linked to actual persons living or dead. Although some things may resemble actual events, the intent is not to relay a true diary but a fictional character that can express many different stories of women who have been abused. The intent is merely to bring awareness from the inside out since we mostly see abused women from the outside looking in.
Trigger warning – The content below contains wording which may be triggering to domestic abuse survivors.
Diary February 16, 2016
I have not updated my diary in a long time. Gosh I don’t even know where to begin. My life went into a major whirlwind at the end of October. I became highly suicidal and was hospitalized for a few weeks. Even though I was being treated for my suicide attempt, being at the hospital was actually nice. I mean I had three meals a day, people to talk to, a warm bed and it was a safe place. It was certainly much nicer than being in those crummy shelters. People just don’t understand that when you are homeless it doesn’t mean that you are a bad person. Sure there is bad and good people in every area of life but shouldn’t people be allowed to have a little dignity in whatever station of life they find themselves in?
I suppose I should be grateful. The last shelter I stayed at was an awful mess of a place. It was located in a run down old church building in the basement where they had rows of cots. The place stunk to high heaven but it was better than being out in the cold. I could never sleep at night so I would go up and talk to the volunteer who was there 3 nights and 4 days a week. She was a sweetheart, middle aged and very intelligent. I could tell she came from a wealthy family but something in her just oozed with compassion for homeless people. I talked to her for hours on the nights that she worked. I couldn’t believe that she was just a volunteer. Who does that? Who spends 56 hours a week with a bunch of homeless people? Cora did, that was her name. She was an angel. The night that I tried to commit suicide she actually accompanied me to the hospital. She sat in the emergency room until she found out that I was going to survive. When the nurses allowed her to come in and see me as they were waiting on the transport to come and move me to a room on the behavioral health unit she told me that she had been praying for me all night. I asked her why, she said she loved me and Jesus loved me. I knew she was an angel. She gave me her phone number and made me promise to call her every day to update her on how I was doing. I told her that I would and thanked her for caring.
The behavioral health unit was dark as I was transported up to my room. It was a private room and I was so happy to have a bed instead of a cot to sleep on. I wrapped myself up so tight in those blankets and fell quickly off to sleep. The next morning I met the team of “professionals” that were going to be helping me back to a place of healing. I wasn’t listening to a word they said to me, they sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher “wha wha wha wha wha wha wha wha”. HAHA it’s funny now but I suppose I should have paid more attention at the time since they were trying to help. I think I was at the hospital for 10 days when Cora came to visit me. The staff allowed it because I had no family or anything and she was on all my paperwork since she was with the ambulance that brought me there. She gave me a big hug and it was a little awkward but nice. She told me that a woman had come to the shelter looking for me, an older woman with gray hair named Minnie. Tears immediately fell from my eyes as I remembered meeting Minnie. She was the woman at the church lunch who invited me to stay with her. But how did she find me? I was confused. Cora said she had looked for me at every shelter in town. Who does that?
I didn’t know what to think about knowing that Minnie had been looking for me. I mean I only stayed with her for one night. It wasn’t like we were best friends. I remembered that she too had been abused and she really got me. She didn’t get that look of terror in her eyes when I told her my story like most people. Cora revealed to me that she actually knew Minnie from her church. They worked on a women’s bake sale together once to raise funds for the youth group. She had no idea that I had even been to her church because apparently the day I went was the one Sunday she had to cover for another volunteer at the shelter. She told me that Minnie showed up at the shelter the day after I was admitted to the hospital and they had been praying for me ever since daily at noon. I had to ask Cora to leave, this was just too much for me to handle and I couldn’t see why anyone would care that much about little old me. It was too much emotion for me to handle. I yelled at her to just get out and leave me alone. I saw a tear roll down her eye as she looked back at me while walking out the door.
To be continued…