There have been several moments in my life that have given me cause to believe that I was meant for greater things. There has to be a reason that I am still breathing today.
I remember vividly the day I almost succeeded …in dying. My focus was on obtaining more and more of the poison that was killing me.
I reasoned that I was already a failure. I might as well keep rolling till the wheels came off. They almost came off that day. I was turning tricks and living with a very abusive man.
I had a horrendous and quickly escalating IV drug problem.
I remember being quite intoxicated, most likely on cheap vodka or wine. I was angry and bitter; not just with myself but with my life as a whole.
I wanted out... I didn’t own a gun... I was deathly afraid of water...
I couldn’t muster up enough courage to slit my own wrists; and collecting enough money for a lethal dose of prescription medication would have been next to impossible for me.
I had already attempted to inject enough of my drug of choice into my veins to literally stop me in my tracks.
In my desperate attempt to permanently silence the raging sound of my own agonizing failure, I searched for a way out. I found a length of rope from the back of a pickup truck
parked close to where I was staying. I vowed to locate the highest tree I could find and once and for all cure what was hurting me.
I mentally wrote a suicide note apologizing to everyone I had let down.
That list included my children, my parents and ex-husband and above all God whom I was sure would never speak to me again. I remember thinking, “I don’t want to live like this."
I prayed that he would let me go peacefully.
With trembling fingers and resolution, I fashioned a noose for myself and tied it to the highest branch I could reach.
From my precarious perch atop the metal garbage can I had turned over to use as a makeshift platform, I tearfully and stoically kicked the can away from my now flailing body.
I didn’t want to keep chickening out. I was gong to succeed at something, even if it was my own suicide. How noble.
The last thing I remember is panic...then, nothing at all.
Nothing, that is until the next morning when to my disgust I woke up groggy in a hospital bed.
I slowly forced the fog away from my brain and began to piece together the sequence of events from the previous evening.
I could account for everything except for one important fact; WHY was I still alive???
My neck was sore; bruised and torn from the angry cord that was supposed to free me from my sad existence.
My whole body began to quake, the tremors turning into wails, which were followed by a series of gut wrenching cries. I couldn’t even kill myself correctly. What a loser, I thought.
It took many years to be thankful for the botched attempt to kill myself; to begin looking inward and upward and coming to an understanding of the phenomenal experience I had been through.
The doctor informed me a short time later that I was inches from death, yet I was miles away from really living. He also told me that whoever cut me down and summoned help that day was a mystery.
The fact that I had survived without permanent brain damage was nothing short of a miracle.
It wasn’t clear to me then. However, I can’t deny some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers. And some of God’s angels come in forms we never see.