There is a reason why I am telling this story! Reliving my past trauma

BY SIMONE J. SMITH

It was hard to sleep that night. I had sat on the floor staring at the gate for the rest of that afternoon. I stared at it so long that the lights went out indicating the end of the day. There was no other choice but to lie down, and force myself to go to sleep.

That night I ruminated about everything in my life. I guess it could be what your life flashing before your eyes looks like in slow motion. I relived moments in my life that I had not thought of. The ones that I focused on the most, were the ones that I believe had brought me to this point. Every now and then, I pictured my parents, and it brought tears to my eyes.

My mom and dad are the BEST parents a young woman like me could ask for. Although my actions had been selfish, I had never wanted them to impact my parents. My parents raised me to be a good person, to not hurt others, and to abide by all of the other commandments that appear in The Bible.

They had been strict, but also knew how to have a lot of fun. I have great memories being raised by my parents, and I know that it hurt them that I was sitting in a jail cell halfway across the world.

I pictured my mom, sitting there with her eyes large because she was worried. My mom’s eyes getting bigger when she is sad. Her hand on her forehead, she would probably be at her computer, typing furiously, trying to figure out what to do next.

My dad, the more calm, and cool out of the two, was probably hidden away somewhere, processing things slowly. I am sure that he had not said much since the phone call. I later learned that they were at my auntie’s house in New York, and for the rest of their trip, they had to force themselves to act normal. I know that was hard for my mom. She is not great at hiding her feelings at all.

As I write this, tears come to my eyes. Rehashing this story every couple weeks has been difficult. There are the worries of judgment that I may receive. There is the fact that people will read this and use it against me in the future. With the recent stance that I have taken against false truths, and the madness of media, I am sure that people will dig up information on this case, and attempt to slander my name.

THAT IS EXACTLY WHY I AM TELLING MY STORY!

Those who choose to rise up against me will not use my trauma to disarm me. My story is no longer mine. This story is for a young woman who may find herself in a worst situation then mine. I want to help prepare her mind for this. To show her that even though you make mistakes, you can rise above.

As I lay there, my thoughts wandered. I opened my eyes and stared into the darkness. The young lady who had been taken to prison earlier in the day had been lying on a thin mattress. When she left, I claimed the mattress, and for the first time in about three days, my body was not screaming in pain.

I flipped over to stare at the wall. It was so dark that regardless of where I was looking, it still looked like a sea of black. Today had shaken me. There was that chance that I would be sent to a prison in Panama. I had watched movies like this, but to think that I would have to navigate the actual experience rocked me to the core.

I squeezed my eyes tight, and begged my brain to shut off. As I drifted into the darkness, I thanked my brain for listening to me.