Demons

It is true, we all have our demons.

For her, they were just more obvious. Some carry their demons, their emotions, their feelings, the wear and tear of life, on their sleeves. She carried hers’ in her eyes.

A mere nineteen years old. Yet in this relatively short number of years, she had packed an adult full of living.

Here’s her story.

Pregnant at sixteen. By seventeen a mom. Born a beautiful baby girl. Both completely alone in the world except for each other.

So often are the ways of life to those dealt such a lousy hand.

Broken family. No dad, at least for the past several years. Mom battling her own demons. The bottle and apathy and no self-respect. Is it any wonder this beautiful baby herself, at an age when she should be thinking about whether her style of clothes match the trend of the other high school girls, she finds herself buried deep in a cloud of never ending misery.

Along comes horny, acne-faced eighteen year old boy full of the wannabe “gangsta” message heard all over his music, “if you a man you conquer them hoes”. He believes the message viewing every girl as his right to use and abuse.

He himself has no clue, no job. Dropping out he completes his dirty deed. Damage done. He never had any intent of being a dad. And why should he? Never even knew his.

He said the words she needed to hear at that right moment. Wanting so much to be loved she believed the “if you love me you will”, and she did.

Mom drowning in her own sorrows and misery sees the reflection of her life in her own baby. A carbon copy. Oh what a vicious cycle demons are. Embarrassed, at wits end, she does the only thing she is really good at. Exploding into a verbal tirade that would level a brick building, she kicks her pregnant daughter out of what she thinks is a home.

There she stands all alone. An empty street she now calls home.

Her real difficulties are just starting. Then her baby is born.

The need for work wins out. Money for food, rent, clothes, and care for her baby. Grandma has softened a bit. A handful of pills each day dulls her reality. She agrees to watch her baby granddaughter a couple of hours a day so mom can go to school.

Imperfect, you bet. Often grandma is not fit to watch this precious gift, so mom goes back to her one room efficiency instead of school for the day. Her baby needs a safe place to stay.

Now more than ever our young mom is feeling the impact of choices. She buries her face in her tear stained pillow and cries herself to sleep yet again.

Soon something must give. It is a “dog eat dog world” and only the strong survive. She quits school to work more. Money is needed.

Yet one venomous mistake leads to an ever increasing cycle of despair. Have to work. Need money. Have to drop out. No diploma. No decent job. Barely minimum wage covers all the expenses.

What kind of world is her baby being brought up in? Sadly, very similar to one she had.

Desperation. Despair. Fear. Demons at full force. The greatest being those “voices” out there. Come on you know the ones I am talking about. The looks given to this child with child. The words. The labels. Dumb. Stupid. Lazy. Trash. Slut. Get away from me. I would never end up like you sweetie. As if this is what she had planned for that night she was duped.

At sixteen she was an honor student.

What does she do? It isn’t about her. She has a baby daughter. She needs money. More money than her circumstances allow. There’s only one thing to do.

Selling her body at a darkened stained club hidden on the outskirts of the city. Easy money they tell her. The more you take off, the more you earn. Finally, a solution to the demons staring her in the face. When you are  in the bowels the demons call home, well “beggars can’t be choosy”.

There is no place for shame and loneliness and  personal disgust when all that matters is making sure her baby is warm, dry, and has food.

So the next time you see that down and out person, you there judging, you there thinking you know it all because you think the dirt-stained sleeves of the oily coat are the demons, look into the eyes of the one hurting so much and take a deep, honest look at the real demons looking back at you.