It was rock bottom.
“Please! Please!”, I pleaded for the seventy fifth time.
“Kill ME just please don’t hurt my dog! Pahlease!”
Shrieking. Pleading. Choking on my tears.
Surrounded by broken furniture. Roaches grazing different parts of my body.
I was done.
There wasn’t a future for me.
Nobody loved me. Nobody liked me.
People can only handle being robbed of hope for so long…
I took a big sip of Burnette’s vodka and dumped an entire bottle of antidepressants down my throat.
Finishing the bottle as reality slowly came out from under me.
The hallucinations were so clear they’ve been branded in my mind for life.
Two men sitting in the corner… mute.
Grazing large kitchen knives the way a man strokes his beard.
My attempts to escape from the men were comical.
So disoriented I was incapable of moving an inch without face planting into the cigarette burnt, cockroach infested carpet.
It was hours of horror…
Crying, pleading for the life of my dog, Lancer.
Eventually my fuse was spent.
Shattered, plastered on the ground, I set my eyes on the dog bowl.
“Water! Pleasee! Paaalease can I have a drink! I’m so thirsty!”
My attempt to move resulted in yet
This horrific experience “ended” with my neighbor calling 911 because of the loud bangs (me face diving).
A flashlight peered in the window and once again I attempted to inch forward; landing on the floor like a cracked egg.
The room faded around me as men dressed in red approached through broken glass and wheeled me away…
(Link for “What’s REALLY wrong with the mental health system” coming soon ❤️).
There was a suicide note.
Life would continue moving and eventually, I would too.
I found a room for rent in a house in the suburbs.
About a week after moving in I met Derrick.
It was date number million from an online dating site that a friend got me started on.
I remember opening the door…
He had a bottle of raspberry Smirnoff in hand, per my order. Intriguing, sexy blue eyes.
That night I got hammered and took a nap on my couch. I honestly don’t remember much.
For whatever reason he stayed.
There would be a lot to learn about this man.
He was not overly social, quiet, mild temperament , sheltered. The absolute contrast of myself.
Likely intrigued by the “danger” involved with me, he progressed in the relationship.
A lot of vodka. Tons of naps. Countless “adventures” for this previously untainted man.
About six weeks later I was greeted with a positive pregnancy test.
Suddenly the two of us were dealt loads of responsibility.
We had choices to make. Choices not ideally made by individuals who can’t even take care of themselves.
I was 20 years old. He was 23.
This rollercoaster wasn’t without a silver lining though.
‘This baby is the one thing in my life that will never leave me’
A feeling so powerful I quit drinking cold turkey.
The transition from someone who downed full bottles of vodka in a day to someone without that “crutch” was not an easy one.
I had seizures for two days on my boyfriends bathroom floor.
He said my eyes were rolling in the back of my head… it had to have been traumatic to watch.
“I think we should take a break”
So vulnerable in the moment I packed up my stuff and left.
God gave me that time to work on myself.
I was done but He still had work for me to do…
It wouldn’t be easy but this “untraditional” blessing would be my strength… The Lord in action.
Six months passed without communication with my child’s father.
I didn’t need the responsibility of a relationship while I transitioned. I was slowly getting stronger. I was sober. I had a baby in my stomach who would save me.
My messy dark hair now blonde, curled.
A different person inside and out
One day at work a coworker said,
“you need to at least open the door for him to be there during the birth… it’s something he can’t ever get back.”
A comment that would change how this story ended.
“Hey. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to let you know that it’s a girl. I have a bunch of ultrasound pictures and videos if you’d like to see them. Have a good day.”
His response was positive.
An arrangement for me to drop off the photos was put into motion.
Stunned by the difference in my appearance he invited me in to view the ultrasound videos with him.
It was so refreshing having that moment together.
September 11th 2012 we welcomed our beautiful, healthy, little princess.
May 23rd 2015 we got married.
February 22nd 2017 our second child was born.
Our story isn’t perfect.
It’s untraditional but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
My scars are my strength.
I thank God every single day for rescuing ME when I felt unworthy. For loving ME. For giving ME this beautiful life.
It’s crazy how much can change in a couple days. A month. A year.
I’m sober by will, not choice.
Memories, a clear mind… it’s priceless.
My story continues and there is much, much more to the prologue.
Project Identity will unveil these real life stories in a series of blog posts.
I am human. I am real. I am raw. I am here. Let me lead you from the dark ❤️