My Testimony

Where do I even start?  This post was supposed to be written and publish Wednesday, July 27, 2016.  I couldn't mustered up the mental strength and courage to sit and write it with everything that's been going on but that's a story for another time.  This right here is my testimony.  This is where I talk about the start of the week that changed my life forever.

The night before July 27,2015 I worked second shift at an assistance living home.  It was a rough night working with the dementia residents.  I was going through so much at this point of my life.  My mother's health was going down hill after her 4th back surgery.  The surgery put her out of work which caused us to financially unstable.  I was working full time and always picking up shifts to make more money to pay the bills.  At this time, I should've graduated from college but I took a whole year off because before my mom's back surgery, she had kidney cancer as well.  I also just got out of a abusive relationship but my ex was still harassing me.

My mother was sick.  We were barely making ends meet.  I had no money to go back to college to finish my senior year.  For seven months I was physically, emotionally, and mentally abused.  My ex was still harassing me after I ended the relationship.  I was starting to question God and ask why I was going through this.  My mental health was in shambles(I've been suffering from depression since I was 16 and recently anxiety as of last year.).  I was in such a dark place that there was no way that I could get myself out and there was nothing anyone could do to help.

I felt worthless, useless, unworthy of love, unworthy of anything.  I felt like God was punishing me and I couldn't understand why.  I couldn't understand why I was going through everything I was going through.  The pain was too much.  I cried every night and every morning I felt sad, alone and lost.  Sometimes people would ask "What's wrong?".  I would always say "I'm just tired.".

I was tired.  I was tired of my life.  I was tired of living.  Death felt easier.  I felt like there was no point in staying on this Earth.  I felt alone.  All my close friends were far from me.  I felt like God was far from me.  I was feeling disconnected from my family because my depression wouldn't allow me to reach out.  My ex made me believe I was worthless and no one cared about me or loved me and the bruises he left on me reminded me of this.

So the night before July 27, 2015, I came home from work.  It was 11:30 pm.  My mother waited for me downstairs in the living.  She was on the phone talking with a relative.  I said hello, gave her a kiss and went to the bathroom.  I took a shower and got ready for what I thought would be my last night.

My mother had a lot of medication bottles in her room.  The pills helped with her recovering kidney from her cancer surgery and helped her coped with the pain from her 4th back surgery.  She had Vicodin, Tylenol with codeine, Tramadol, Percocets, Oxycontin, anxiety medication, high blood pressure medication, and more.  My mother didn't take all this medication but the doctor's were constantly pushing them on her to help manage her pain.  Since she didn't take a lot of them, all her medication bottles were practically full.

I went into her room and took all the pills out of every bottle I could find.  I then went down stairs to get a gallon of water.  I returned to my room with the water and the pills.  I premeditated this.  During this time of my life, I thought about killing myself often, especially during and after my abusive relationship.  It was always just a matter of when and how.  I thought about shooting myself, hanging myself, stabbing myself, walking in front of a car, jumping off a building, everything I could possibly think of, I considered.  I didn't want to live anymore.  Life wasn't getting better.

I sat on the corner of my bed and although I was losing my faith, I still had some left.  I looked up to the ceiling crying while my mom was downstairs on the phone and talked to God.  With a pile of pills in one hand and my water in the other, I cried to God and said, "God... if I do this and die then it is what it is.  But if I do this and live, then I know you have a purpose for me.".

I took all the chalky pills.  I probably swallowed close to over 100 different pills.  When I was finished, I lay down in my bed crying, hoping I would pass away in my sleep.

The next day, July 27, 2015, I didn't work so my mom figured I was sleeping in.  I typically don't sleep in pass 10 am.  When she saw it 12 pm and I didn't wake up she came to my room.  She asked if I was going to wake up and I said I was tired.  She left my room and let me sleep longer.  It was 3 pm and I was still in bed and she knew that wasn't normal.  I never sleep in that late.

She came to my room and tried to wake me up and I was barely responsive.  My mother, one month after her back surgery with a back brace, on tried to lift my body up from my bed.  She started yelling my name and asking me what was wrong.  All I could mumble was, "Leave me alone.".  She kept yelling, asking me if I took something and I didn't respond.  She ran to her room to check her medication bottles and found them all empty.  She picked me up and threw me in the shower.  She washed me up and then dressed me as I hanged on her like a rag doll.  When she brought me back to my room to lay me back on the bed.  I didn't make it to my bed.  My lifeless body fell to floor beofre she got to call 911.

My mother didn't have the strength to pick up my lifeless body.  She called my brother to come to the house and help.  He rushed over, picked my body off the floor and threw me in my mom's jeep. July 27, 2015 at around 3:45 pm, I was admitted to the hospital for suicide attempt by drug overdose. When I woke up, I had an IV in each arm flushing out my system.  I was surrounded by my mom, dad, brother and my best friend Makeba.  My mom was crying and everyone looked distressed.  I started crying and yelling to my mom, "Why didn't you let me die!  I don't want to live!".  I kept repeating this to her and she just cried and begged me to stop saying that.

A few minutes later a nurse came in and told me that I would be 302 (forced to a mental health facility) or I could voluntary sign a paper to go for about 2-3 days.  I signed the paper.  My best friend Makeba tried to talk with me but I was out of it.  A drug overdose feels like you're drunk but times 100 and when the drugs wear off it feel likes a hangover times 1,000.

At some point, everyone left.  On July 28, 2015 at about 3:00 am, I was admitted to PhilHaven.  I was still confused and out of it from all the drugs I took.  My face was swollen and I couldn't make sense of everything that was happening.  After they took my vitals and weight I was sent to my room with nothing but a hospital robe.  I went to sleep fast, still feeling the drugs in my system.  It all felt like a dream to me.

On July 28, 2015, I woke up around 9:30 am.  I was pissed.  It wasn't a dream.  I wasn't dead and I was damn near butt naked.  I fought with the staff.  I demanded they get me my clothes and let me take a shower or I wouldn't leave me room.  In about 15 minutes, they got my clothes and let me take a shower with a woman outside keeping watch.  I was angry.  I didn't want help.  I wanted death.

The first two days in PhilHaven were rough.  I was angry at my mom for saving me.  She told me the doctors said I was lucky to be alive.  The doctors didn't understand how I lived and couldn't understand how I had no organ damage.  I then realized God saved me and that meant I had a purpose.

I was kept in PhilHaven for a week.  Throughout that week my family and Makeba visited me every day.  I made friends, and I got better mentally.

I grew a new appreciation for life.  I appreciated the littlest things like being about to feel the sun on my skin and breathe fresh air.  By the middle of the week, I couldn't believe I took life for granted.  I felt guilty and selfish for what I did to myself and my family.

August 3, 2015 around 12 pm I was released from PhilHaven.  It felt good to be mentally well and be with my family but I wasn't ready to be back in the real world(this is when I started to develop anxiety).  I was released and was on a mission to figure out what is God's purpose for me.  I said to God if I live then that means you have a purpose for me and He proved it to me.  I should have been dead on July 27, 2015 but I'm alive and still here.

It's July 31 2016 and I still struggle with my depression every day.  I have anxiety attacks often and night terrors.  Everyday I feel some level of sadness and I probably cry about once a week, but life isn't so bad.  I got to finished my senior year.  I graduated May 7, 2016.  My family and I are in a better financial state.  My mother's health has gotten better.  I'm in a healthy and loving relationship. My relationship with God is stronger.

I still haven't figured out what is God's purpose for me but I crave to know what it is and I'm still trying to figure it out.  I'm sharing this testimony because I was never given a chance to do so, so here it is.  One year since my suicide attempt and I'm blessed enough to share this story with the world.  I pray that someone reads this and finds some comfort and peace.  God bless.

Why I Miss the Hood

The Bronx gets a bad rep but what place doesn't.  Every place has its bad areas, even a place like Lancaster.  I'm currently looking for an apartment here and my supervisor says there's a saying when people look for a place in Lancaster. "West is the best" she said.  Whatever that means.

I'm from the Bronx.  Kingsbridge and Jerome to be exact.  When my mom and dad split, my mother,brother and I moved to the Throggs Neck projects but I spent my weekends in Kingsbridge and Jerome visiting my father.

I now currently reside in Lancaster, PA.  Ever since my family and I moved to PA, I never stopped missing the Bronx.  I have no connection to PA even though I've now been here for half my life. There's so many things about the Bronx I miss.  When I find some of the things I miss about the Bronx in the hood parts of Lancaster, I feel at home.  Some people would probably feel out of place and call it the ghetto but for me it feels like home.

I miss the hood because I miss the sense of community and togetherness.  People in the hood got your back.  We look out for one another because all we have is each other.  There's an unwritten rule of loyalty and respect and people follow that.

I miss the hood because I don't have to go to a Wal-Mart and be worried if I'm going to find what I need.  The bodegas and habibi stores always hook me up.  Whether it's seasoning, cleaning supplies, or even my favorite snack, I know they got it. And guess what?  If they don't got it, there's a bodega two doors down that does.

I miss the businesses ran by Black and Latino owners.  The mom and pop shops.  I miss seeing my people come up in the business world and make a living doing what they love.  I miss supporting that.

I miss the summer time in the hood.  I miss the block parties, festivals, and park bbqs.  I miss seeing people on the sidewalk playing cards and dominoes; laughing and smiling together just to beat the New York City heat.  I miss seeing the kids play in the fire hydrant.  I was one of those kids.

I miss the parks man!  I have yet to see one hand ball court in PA!  The parks also had sprinklers. How dope is that to have on a hot summer day!?

Most importantly, I miss my family.  I didn't get to finish growing up with my cousins.  I didn't get to see my cousins start their own families.  I have cousins who are married with kids and I haven't even met their kids or husband or wife.  I miss my family get togethers.  I miss just chillen with them, being around them.  The loneliness my immediate family and I have experience from moving to PA broke our hearts.  I miss the birthday parties, baptisms, and holidays with my family.

I miss the Bronx.  I miss the hood so much.  There's so much more I miss about the Bronx but if I wrote it all this might be a 10 page paper.  I left my heart in the Bronx and I pray that one day I am able to return to my first love.