By urban definition a “beautiful disaster” is a girl who is very beautiful on the outside but on the inside is a tangled mess. Many of us are. Our struggles are real and they leave a mark. I am one of those girls. Here’s my story....
Rock bottom, a word you hear thrown around most commonly with someone who is an alcoholic or addict, but the truth is EVERYONE has a rock bottom. Your rock bottom is the loneliest, darkest place your soul will ever feel. It is the moment when all hope is lost and nothing but despair exists. It’s a chasm of Hell. I have fallen to my rock bottom.
Twelve years ago I was going through what was the end of a turbulent, abusive marriage. I had three small kids. Everything ended very messy. The damage was done. Depression set in like an old friend. A friend that is really not your friend. It’s the bad influence type of friend that just leads you further and further into the darkness. I was lonely, I was scared, I was hopeless. My heart broke for my children. And it broke for me, too. There’s no hand guide to how to live life the right way. As if things couldn’t get any worse, a night out with a friend turned into my demise. The events that occurred that night was the final straw, my rock bottom.
I woke up the next day, battered and traumatized. My ex stopped by. He lashed out emotionally at me and shredded the very last glimpse of hope that dwelled within me. He told me he would take my kids from me and that they were better off with him and he’d toss me on the street. And in those few words, my fate was sealed. He was right. He was better for them after everything that had happened. He convinced me of this. I didn’t want them to have to have two Christmas’ and birthdays and every weekends and all that crap. It wasn’t fair to them. They didn’t do anything to deserve this. All justification that my time was up.
I took every prescription I had in the house. I had a desk top full of pills. I swallowed every one of them. A friend called and I had answered. She heard in my voice something was very wrong and called 911, but I was already fading away. They lost me twice. But by the grace of God, I came back. At first I was angry and then I saw what I had done. The destruction I caused to so many people. My pain was all I could see, all I could think about. Now I had to deal with my pain AND the pain I’ve caused my children, my family, and my friends.
Sometimes surviving is the worst kind of pain. I’ve never regretted a decision more in my life.
I picked up the pieces to my broken life and got help. Slowly, and with a few big speed bumps, I began to heal and grow, like a Phoenix being reborn from the ashes of the fire. The fire within me, burned brighter than the fire around me.
Today, I am well. I have a wonderful man in my life, a beautiful home, and two rescue dogs that bring me joy. I’m still trying to repair the damage that I caused my children. It doesn’t just go away. How can I expect them to forgive me when I can’t forgive myself? I can only hope that one day forgiveness will conquer all. Our society still shuns and skips around the mental health epidemic occurring in our country. So many lives lost. So many lives never lived. My life almost became a statistic, but my story isn’t over.
I AM the very definition of a beautiful disaster. In some ways, I still am. If my story saves one life, then something beautiful came out of my disaster. I can live with that. In fact, I could be PROUD of something like that.
I am beautiful. I am brave. I am honest. I am worthy. I am courageous. I am appreciated. I am an inspiration. I am MAKING A DIFFERENCE...... and so can you.