(Continuing from Part 1 and Part 2… Wow, I knew this would be lengthy, but I have no idea how many “parts” there will be…)
….”Elaine, I met this girl in FL and she’s pregnant.”
I had no idea what my boyfriend was saying to me. I was caught off guard. It stung. How could this be? He loved me. I “loved” him. He had proposed to me. We were getting married….
As much as those words hurt me, I never imagined what the next would do to me. He said, “I don’t love you anymore.” The one person that I had given up everything for…I was alienated from my friends and family who warned me of his ways…and that one person didn’t love me anymore?!?
I cried until it was impossible for me to make anymore tears. I begged. Pleaded. I still “loved” him, and I couldn’t understand how he couldn’t love me back. Have you ever seen the movie The Dairy of a Mad Black Woman? The wife leaves kicking and screaming… That was me. I felt I had nothing left…I had shamed my family and friends. I had no where else to go. I couldn’t possibly go back home to my parents house. Remember? I was completely convinced that they didn’t love me either for supporting my relationship. I was desperate…and hope was lost for me.
By this point the boyfriend had left to go back to FL. He left me crying and pleading for his love. I’m sure I looked crazy. He was an addiction I had for the past two years, and I couldn’t even remember my life before him (never mind without him). So, I attempted suicide by swallowing 24 Tylenol. I wanted to die—for something, anything, to take that pain away for me. I think I imagined that I would calmly drift off to sleep where I would die and wake up to the face of God. Instead I became so violently ill as my body was trying to save me from myself. Well, I say my body, but I firmly believe it was the hand of God.
I remember I found the strength from somewhere (or Someone) to crawl to the telephone. In my distraught I didn’t even think of calling 911 (crazy, huh?) I called one of my only friends who had stood by me…I told her what I had done and begged her to come and get me and take me to the hospital. I can remember it taking her 4 hours to finally come and pick me up, what would have been a 30 minute drive at most. But, thankfully, she did come, and I am forever indebted to her for that.
I spent a few days in the hospital for the overdose. I can remember having to drink something that smelled like sewer water to counteract the Tylenol. (THAT alone is reason enough to never do this!) I don’t know if you all know this or not, but Tylenol is damaging to your liver, and I had damaged about 30% of mine. Yet, doctors were very hopeful that I would recover.
I spent the next week in a psychiatric hospital learning healthier ways to cope with my depression and self-esteem issues, mending my family relationships, and learning to live again. It was a struggle and I dealt with new issues: Anger toward God for saving me from myself. The hurt I felt from that boyfriend was still there, and underneath it all was the “love” I had for him. I didn’t know who I was or how to be me again.
Please note, I don’t fault the boyfriend for this or point my finger at him in anyway. I take complete ownership of my actions. Although he mistreated me and had completely broken what was left of my heart and spirit—those are his faults—I had done this. Me. This was my fault.
Hoping things would be better and starting with a clean slate, I moved away from home in with an Aunt and Uncle who offered to take me in. My parents and I were not ready to co-exist. We, too, had some things to work through, but I was on overload already, so as important as my parents were, they had to be on the backburner for now.
Changing high schools in your Junior year is TERRIBLE. I was again swallowed up by the population of my school, and I didn’t know anyone. For the first time in my life, I was forced to rely on me…and it wasn’t very reliable…
Then the boyfriend found me…and he called. Again.
More to come.
(Thank you again to all of you have read this and/or sent words of encouragement for me to share my testimony. It is getting a little easier every day, although the hesitation is still present…)