It Ain’t Pretty, But God Made It Beautiful

I kept wrestling with my emotions. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I didn’t fight back. I was beginning to hate myself, God, and life, period. I began to feel a rage go through me, and I wanted to stop hurting. I pushed some good friends away. I was dealing with so much, and they couldn’t understand the anger I was feeling. I took it out on everyone. I wanted the thoughts from that night to disappear from my memory. I wanted to die. I kept waking up, trying to figure out ways to commit suicide. I couldn’t take it anymore. I would look in my medicine cabinet and try to find medicines I could combine to make me sleep and never wake up. Then I kept remembering something my mother said to me when we saw something on TV about suicide. She said, “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Everything will heal in time.” I couldn’t do it, so the weed was the only thing I could use to help me cope with things. I knew it would zone me out for awhile and then I could fall into a deep sleep where everything seemed at peace. But when I awakened each morning, I had to relive this horror again. It was like putting a Band-Aid on a deep wound. It would only temporarily fix the problem; it wasn’t the solution. The problem was I didn’t know what the solution was at the time.