LIFE | Romeo & Juliet Was Not A Love Story

Aside from the embarrassment, there is a bottomless pit of insecurity that lives deep inside of me; when I think about how often we, as people, judge one another for even the most mundane things, like the kind of cars we drive or the type of jobs we have, I know my fear is rarely unwarranted.

But here it goes anyway...

SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN

I met my now husband in September 2004 shortly after my two year struggle involving hospitalizations, medications, and intense therapy. 

I was only 20 years old and already felt like I missed out on so much of life. A part of me that I still know I can never get back. 

When I met Vince, I wasn't my best but I was still a million times better than my worst. He was a welcomed distraction from the many scars I had accumulated over the past couple years. 

With distraction comes carelessness and six months later I found myself pregnant, afraid, and unwed. The decision to have the baby came with all of the usual judgements from family and friends who didn't understand why two people, who were so wreck-less, thought that we could ever make something like this work. 

The choice not to get married right away was first mine, then ours. I never pictured myself getting married or having kids and so we chose to take it one step at a time. 

BECOMING A MOM

From the beginning the pregnancy was tough. 

There were months of bed rest after an near miscarriage at 12 weeks. Despite all  of the stress, and an arrival via emergency C-section, our daughter: a beautiful and healthy little girl,  was welcomed with open arms by our entire family. 

I will be the first to admit that the several months following her birth are a complete blur to me. The books promised feelings of joy but I felt absolutely nothing. 

When I say nothing, it's important to understand that nothing is a feeling often associated with acute levels of desperation. I wasn't lacking feelings of happiness or sadness, they just ceased exist in my realm of emotion. So much so, I didn't even know they were missing. 

By the time she was 9 months old I began to realize how much I was missing and instead of the growing awareness making me feel sad, it made me angry. 

THIS IS THE END

I took all of that jealousy, rage, anger, and confusion out on Vince. A month shy of our 2 year anniversary I forced him out of our house, dropped the baby off with him at his mother's, went home by myself and swallowed over 100 sleeping pills, a weeks worth of Vicodin, and half a bottle of vodka. 

Before I left my daughter that night, I cried as I kissed her goodbye. I remember so little about what else happened after I came home. I had taken away his house key and locked all of the doors. I know now that if he hadn't broken into the garage and immediately called 911, I wouldn't be here today. 

What I do remember are a few seconds on the stretcher and in the ambulance. I remember blacking out over and over again as they forced a hose down my throat and pumped the poison out of my stomach. 

Afterwards, I remember waking up feeling scared and alone, only to look over and see a hand reaching for mine. His face was angry but his eyes looked scared. I don't know how long he stayed with me or what he said that night, but I do know he was there and that I was somehow still alive.

Tomorrow, I'll discuss the most important part of this story: the recovery. 

As we celebrate our 9 years together this month, I think back to all the things we went through and i'm aware of the reasons I am here today. 

My failed suicide attempt is only a chapter in our story. It is neither the beginning or end for either one of us. It took me a long time to get past the things I have done; the indestructible guilt  will always leave a piece of me broken.