The Real Truth About Survival
run·a·way
/ˈrənəˌwā/
Noun
A person who has run away, esp. from their family or an institution. An animal or vehicle that is running out of control: "a runaway train".
Synonyms
fugitive - deserter - refugee - escapee
~compliments of Dictionary.com
I was 18 when I left home like a thief in the night. Exhausted from a mentally draining home life, I ran away from my family without a word; without a phone call, and without a clue as to a plan for my future.
I took off before learning that I had been accepted into Clark Atlanta University. Looking back, it doesn't matter, I could not have accepted that destiny that my mother controlled. This time in my life was a turning point; another ordinary day in a not-so-ordinary life.
Logistics needed to be worked out. Every detail had to be planned. It was a lot to focus on and a massive amount to figure out in very little time. The taxi ride; catching my flight; support systems; and finding a roof.
I had absolutely nothing to my name except what I could fit in a taxi, $200, and a plane ticket I convinced my dad to get for me non-stop to D.C. Even though I was 18 when I left, it didn't stop the search parties my mother formed. It was because I was 18 and left a "runaway" note, that I was not a missing person according to the Atlanta Police Department.
That plane ticket I secured from dad was an employee-dependent pass, and to my surprise, it had a 48 hour wait period so I had to live in one of the world's busiest airports for at least 24 of those 48 hours. I didn't have a home. I had run out of places to hide. That airport was my place of refuge where I disappeared into the crowd avoiding my mother's wrath.
*Disclaimer* Kids, don't try this at home. Running away is actually a little harder then it looks.The Airplane Ride
I Finally made my flight and wow I was on vacation for the next 2 weeks with my best friend at the time. We both chilled at her aunt's house. It was a FAB two weeks, then it was time to head back and face what? NOTHING.
Survival Support Systems
I was officially estranged from my mother. She wasn't very happy with me upon my arrival back in Atlanta. I could tell by her frigid words on the other end of the phone that I'll never forget, "YOU LEFT LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT". What could I say except, "you're not ready, goodbye".
It was nearly 2 years before we spoke again. I was damn lucky. My boyfriend's mother worked for a very prominent real estate investment company and she was able to negotiate a deal with the owners to let me stay in a room in a building at the corner of Spring and 14th streets for $100 per month. The arrangement was contingent upon cleaning the building in which I lived and the one next door. Can you imagine cleaning buildings with common bathrooms used by all men? My boyfriend stayed there a while but before long we broke up (I was impossible to live with at that time in my life).
I cooked the best I could on electric burners and had a car that if it cranked, it was a great day. Today, there is a parking lot in that spot I once lived as a runaway, and on the other corners are skyscrapers. It’s always bitter-sweet going back to that place in midtown Atlanta.
I appreciate those that were there for me; that put me up when they didn't have to and made sure I had the basic necessities. It truly takes a village.
Finding Stability in a Snapshot
That year and a half after I left home seemed like an eternity. Every little thing I did was a means to survival or one step from homeless.
I left home like a thief in the night
Spent 2 weeks in D.C.
Lived in a makeshift dorm where I was the cleanup woman
Went to work for Mead Packing, Macy's then on to First Atlanta Bank all within 6 months
Moved to an apartment complex
Lost my job
Became a band groupie
Lost my apartment
Moved in with dad and that mean stepmother and her kids
Moved in with my new boyfriend, who would later become my husband
Landed a job at the Atlanta Journal and Constitution
Married Reginald Stanfield, June 18, 1983
During this time, I became dreadfully addicted to nose sprays (that's another post). I got through that too.
Those were my humble beginnings as an adult. Atlanta was very good to me and I'm so grateful to my city. I've read that luck comes to those that seek their destiny and not just some freak thing that happens.
Do you have a happy ending?
