By spring 1997, I still had not recovered from all these years of emotional abuse and neglect and had reached an all time low emotionally and attempted suicide. I was headed across town from Canarsie to visit my mother with one of my close friends but before I left I decided to take a bottle of pills. My plan was for us to reach our destination and I would peacefully lay down and go to sleep and allow God to call me home too. This wasn’t the first time I endured the thought, but it was the first time I acted on it. The horror of it all is the way you see it, is not how it actually goes.
I found myself trying to peacefully fall asleep but the pain, oh man the pain was indescribable and unbearable. My close friend, who was still by my side, wanted to tell my mother but I begged them not to. I had made my bed and I was going to lay in it, pain and all. I let twenty agonizing minutes pass before I obliged and allowed my friend to explain to my mother what happened. The rest was a whirlwind as they rushed me to Interfaith Hospital and my mother cursed me out the whole way. Thank God that for me Interfaith Hospital was a seven minute walk from her house. I can remember sitting in the emergency room waiting for someone to call my name to be attended to and my mother giving the demands to the group who were with us.
Even as I’m retelling this season, the image and feelings are still vivid in my mind as I believe this was a feeling and experience that God never wants me to forget. He allowed me to walk away. He allowed me to receive a second chance. (I later found out that He holds on to those He loves and haven’t fulfilled their purpose.) I was still empty inside but grateful…..
*This is an excerpt from my upcoming memoir "Look Mama I Made It"