When I Left From The Place I Called Home

 After only six months after high school, I was under depression. I felt like I wasn't going to amount to anything or be anyone worth looking up to. I was still blessed to say and be the first person from my immediate family to graduate from high school.

 I was nineteen and with no job, no car, or a supportive family. I wanted to go to college and major in mass communications and be the next Uptown Angela on Q93. But once, I realized that my mother didn't have a job nor the education or the finances to place me into college, I had to learn to let go...


I learned to let go of wanting to be like many of my high school classmates. Many of my classmates were going off to amazing universities, getting scholarships, and driving really nice cars. I will admit I was jealous.

At that time, I was questioning God, why? I wanted to know why I came from a broken family. I wanted to know why I had a mother who couldn't read or write, and I had to read all the bills and basically raise my little sister and brother.

I wanted to know why my mother never learned to drive or pushed me to get my driver's license; I wanted to know why I no one told me, "Linda, it isn't your time to be great." I was a small-town girl whose living situation was horrible. No one could have phantom the hardships that I was going through.

I remember standing on the side of my mom's yard, staring out into the sugar cane field one afternoon. I shared the only happy times when I was at church in fellowship, bible study, or with my boyfriend.

My boyfriend lived on the west bank of New Orleans, and I was visiting New Orleans at least two to three times a month. I longed to get away from my small town at all costs. I was so blessed and happy to finally talk to his mother about moving away from home. His mother was willing to help me have a roof over my head as soon as I decided to leave from home.

I wasn't scared of leaving home. In fact, when you have it very rough, and you have no other choice, you will move like clouds. Don't get me mistaken, I loved my mother. She did all she can for my siblings and me. She worked under the table jobs like in the sugar cane field and around people's yards for quick change here and there.

We had no father figure, just ideas of what our father figure would be like in our imaginations. But, I couldn't no longer stand watching her suffer, and my sister and brother suffer. Ever since I lived in Napoleonville, I was teased and bullied from where I came from. I was judged for not having it like 'The Jones!' I am actually crying so much as you read this.

I was raped physically, emotionally, and mentally of my innocence and my peace of mind in Napoleonville. Once you start to lose your sanity, it's difficult to find peace of mind. I didn't have many friends, and the ones that I did have didn't last long.

I guess many people were ashamed to be my friend because of my upbringing and because I was poor. Maybe some of the nasty rumors people use to spread about me make me feel less than them.

It was a Saturday morning in November of 2012. The air felt brisk, and I was sitting on the porch of my home with all of my belongings ready to go. I held my hands together, rocking back and forth in my chair, trying to cradle myself from the cold. My cell phone had vibrated on my lap. It was my boyfriend and the text message read,

"Only five minutes from you."

My little sister came outside and stood up next to me. I felt her watching me from the screen front door.

 She said, "I'm going to miss you. But, I know there's nothing out here for you."

I looked up at her in her dark brown eyes that were  glossy from holding back tears and said, "I'm going to miss you too, 'Trish, but trust me when I say I have to do what's right for me."

She looked away from me and bit down on her bottom lip before opening up the door and said, "Linda, whatever you don't ever come back to living like this."

I dropped my head, and the winter wind whipped my tears from my eyes. "The only time I am coming back is to visit, but I can't forget what raised me."

From that day forward, I left home and never turned back. It has been over four years, and I am loving and embracing my journey with God because I FOUND STRENGTH never turns back. This is only half of my testimony. Please continue to follow for more.