When I was in junior high or middle school as it's called nowadays, the dysfunction in my home was at its peak. My dad was drinking at the village bar almost daily but then on the weekends he would get dressed up and go out. One time I asked him where he had been. He said he ordered chicken and sat alone in the car. I didn't believe him but at the same time I felt sorry for him.
I had gained fifty pounds during those three years in junior high. The reason I ate so much was because I never knew if/when we were going to eat dinner. Sometimes we wouldn't eat until my dad got home from the bar. That could be at nine o'clock at night or later.
When I got home from school I would make something to eat that would be substantial enough to keep me full. I never really noticed gaining weight until three things happened. My mom and I went clothes shopping and I was now in the "Pretty Plus" section. What a horrible name for overweight kids clothing. Second, my dad taught me how to dance. One time he remarked that if I kept it up my stomach was going to be bigger than his. I think I still have that picture. Third, near the end of my eighth grade year, our physical education teachers gave us our statistic cards. I saw that I'd gained 50 pounds and was sickened. I hid my card so no one else could see it.
- I was fat and felt like a loser.
- I was fighting with my dad so he wouldn't hurt my mom or sisters
- I was being beaten for things that weren't that bad
- I was alone with no one to talk to except my cat, Molly
- I had friends but not really
- I didn't trust anyone
- I couldn't handle the yelling and screaming anymore
That's when I decided to take my own life. I couldn't handle the stress anymore. There were no signals or signs that it was ever going to stop. The bruises were too many, the healing not enough.
I stayed home from school and decided to swallow a bunch of pills. Thankfully, the only thing that happened is I fell asleep. When I woke up I said to myself (out loud), "Well, that didn't work so I guess I'm supposed to be here." Then I got up and started cleaning the house as if nothing had happened.
God protected me that day. I didn't know it at the time but looking back I can see His hand of protection over me. I believe He caused me to fall into a deep sleep. I believe He removed the burdens I was carrying. I believe He held me up until help arrived. Help arrived one year later.
Wherever you are with God or suicide or giving up let me say this: God loves you and He'll never let you go. He gives us free will to do with our lives whatever we want - He gave us free will. His never ending hope is that we will turn toward Him, get on our knees and ask Him for help.
I've done this more times than I can count.
Each time I've done it, He's been there.
God loves us with an everlasting love.
All we have to do.....is reach out and take His gentle hand.
