The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [111]
Diary 135
Dear Diary,
It is terrifying to feel your breath slip away and no matter how hard you fight no air can reach your lungs. And worse is the false sense of security you get when you come up, only to be pushed right back under. My grades were at an all-time high, my mother and I were getting along better than we had in years, water polo season had just ended, and I was going to be on varsity swim, I had a job as a lifeguard for the summer, I was to start college in the fall, I was graduating in a couple months, and I had a boyfriend who was good to me. I was gasping for air, waiting for the tidal wave to push my head underwater again, only to let me up for my next gasp of precious air.
Not even four months after James and I started dating, I started feeling an increasing nausea, I knew without a doubt that I was pregnant. I kept hoping I was wrong, but when I went to the doctor, she confirmed what I already knew. Where had I gone wrong? I had been careful not to have unprotected sex; I had learned my lesson last time I had become pregnant. Then I remembered the night the condom broke.
When I had become pregnant at fourteen, it was because of my own irresponsibility. I felt that I had no choice but to have an abortion. Afterward, though, I felt like I had killed part of myself—I began to drown. It took almost three years to recover from the depression that engulfed me after the abortion of my first child. I wanted to take my chances having this baby.
I told James my decision and though he was obviously apprehensive, he was willing to go along with what I wanted to do. He understood what I went through previously, but I was worried that we were not ready. Of course, I was right, but what could I do? I needed to take this risk; hopefully James would stick it out with me.
When I told my mother of my pregnancy, she said that she had guessed as much, because (1) I had not had my period in a month, and (2) when you live in a house full of women, all cycles seem to be the same. She warned me that my decision to have the baby would change my life. There were going to be things I had planned for that would not be possible. My grandmother told me, “You know you can’t start college in the fall, and they won’t let you be a lifeguard while you’re pregnant.” At school, I told my swim coach about my pregnancy. She, in turn, told me that she could not let me compete, it was too dangerous for the baby and me. A giant tidal wave of fear washed over me. I would have to put all of my plans on hold. No job as a lifeguard this summer, no starting college in the fall, no more swimming. Instead, I was drowning again.
After feeling sorry for myself for a couple of days, I decided that I had no reason not to fight for air and freedom. True, things were not going exactly as planned, but do they ever? Breathing again, I began to rearrange my future plans: college would start in the spring, and I would take summer classes. I might find a job that paid more than being lifeguard, and I was one of two people picked, out of 150, to represent the Freedom Writers at an award banquet.
As I breathed, truly released from the grasp of all that inhibited me, I began to see how blessed I was. I was graduating with straight As and I still had the support of my friends and family. No longer was I choked with fear. Instead, I breathed deep, exhilarating breaths.
Diary 136
Dear Diary,
“I know why the caged bird sings.” For many people this might sound like a normal poem, but to me it’s an analogy of my life. I sometimes feel as if I am a bird without wings and the door on my cage is not open. A bird doesn’t sing because it’s happy, it sings because it’s not free. It is the same for me, but instead of singing, I write. I write quotes, poems, and journal stories almost every day so that I can escape reality, because sometimes it’s unbearable.
Reality is difficult for me because of where I live. I live in a neighborhood where the sounds of gunshots are my lullaby. The smell of weed lingers