This day in history

Three years ago today my life changed. It started like any other. Mom woke me up told me to get ready for school, a little small talk. I got my bag ready for volleyball practice but I knew I wouldn’t be needing it. Not today. I sat on the edge of my bed looking out my window waiting for the bus to come and get me. Sitting there I continued the ongoing battle in my head, unsure if I really wanted to go through with my plan. The bus came and I headed down the stairs, but instead of just walking out the door like normally I did something a bit different. I grabbed the bottle of painkillers sitting on the shelf above kitchen sink shoved them in my bag and went on my way. I was tired of being sad, tired of hating my life, hating me. I just wanted the pain to stop.

Nobody was seated near me on the bus, so I took a hold of the opportunity and took a handful of pills. The ride to the high school was different then most. I took in the sights, for in my head I believed it to be the last time I would see the countryside and the features of the small towns of North Loup and Scotia. As the bus arrived to the school I took another bunch of pills before getting off.  I went straight to the girls locker room like any other day and sat there holding the pill bottle in my hand.

My breathing was heavy, my knees weak, hands shaking I took more pills. I felt so dead inside for all the heartache and pain in my life. Constantly blaming myself for my dad being in prison. Feeling like my mom hated me, not wanting me as her daughter. All the emotions running through my head were killing me. My thoughts had become Satan’s playroom.

The bell rang sending me to studyhall. It was boring, and halfway through class I left to take more out of the bottle of pills. During passing time between my first two classes in the day took more. Only wanting the pills to kick in and do me over. Second period class was the same. I felt no need to participate in the class homework because in my mind I wouldn’t live to see the hand in day. Before Third period I continued to take more.

I remember walking into Mr. Hawley’s science room. My vision was starting to blur and I couldn’t walk in a straight line. My body was trembling. I sat down trying to wrap my head around what I was doing. One of my friends at the time realized something was wrong. She tried asking me what was wrong but I blocked out her words. Trying to think of a way to get the pills out of my system. I went into the science closet looking for peroxide. Courtney walked in on me taking a drink of it. She freaked out asking what I was doing.

Through shaking breaths I told her I wanted to die, but now I don’t want to. I needed to get the pills out of my system. I left her in the closet to sit in her thoughts about what I just said and headed for the second floor restroom. I don’t remember how long I sat there, trying to get myself to throw up the pills. I remember my step sister Kloreace coming into the restroom asking what was wrong. after a while I told her how I felt. About not wanting to continuing life. She left the room and came back within five minutes. Telling me that we could go talk in Ms. Rakness’ outer counseling room. I believed her, and left the restroom only to be confronted by a haunting look. Mr. Young standing outside of his office looking at me with hurt in his eyes. Kloreace left leaving me alone with him. He took me into his office, and asked me “Why”. I hurt him deeply that day.

He called my caseworker and they arranged to get me to the Ord hospital. It became embarrassing, that I had tried to end my own life because I didn’t succeed. It almost looked like it was for attention. Nothing was worse than seeing my mom after I was admitted to the hospital. She felt as if she had failed as a mother.

At this point anxiety took over, making it hard to talk to people. I was worried about everything, from what they thought of me to how I was going to go on with life. I wasn’t until I was put into the Richard Young mental hospital the next day did God start to speak to me.

Lying awake in the institution I finally realized what I had done. Realized that I could have hurt a lot of people.

Fast forward to the middle of November  when a friend asked if I would join her on a trip to Arkansas for something called Flame On. When told that it was for the Christians Motorcyclist Association I had to laugh at the time. Because back then to me it seemed silly, people  who loved motorcycles, God, and wore the leather vests and jackets. Looking back I think the reason I laughed was because it didn’t make sense how bikers could believe in God.

I found myself going on this trip I thought would be pointless. But the moment I walked into the door of the warehouse it was like walking into the presence of God. Yet by societies standards not one of these people looked like a Christian. Tattoos, piercings, stretched ears, and colored hair. Each person with a different background, a different testimony. Some were like me and wanted to end their lives but God brought them back to loving their lives. Some had grown up in unloving homes, or been in an abusive relationship. No matter what they had been through they knew what God’s grace was like.

They had what I wanted. To be close to Christ, to feel His love for us. I thought that I had that given the fact that just the July I had given my life to Christ. But it was made apparent to me that I had not been living like Christ. There on Iron Mountain surrounded by my brothers and sisters in Christ I rededicated my life to Him. Asking him to change my heart, give me a chance to do something good in this life. Show people what God’s love can do. Show people that He loves us and will never lie to us. Because we are His children and He loves us.