It was my last year in California, 3 days after my birthday and our third child was 5 months old. I had once again put David out, he had lost his job, was staying out all night, and instead of helping cut back on the bills by watching the children he refused. I was forced to pay a mortgage, childcare, a car note and all the other household bills by myself. I got him physically out of my house but the soul ties were so strong that he knew he could influence my thoughts and emotions. He would call and badger me about what I was doing, where I was going, whom I was talking to and accuse me of sleeping with any and everybody. I guess you can say I was at my breaking point.

“David why did you come over here? I don’t want you in my house. You don’t just show up and demand me to let you see your kids. I hung up the phone on you for a reason. LEAVE ME ALONE! JUST GET OUT!” He always tried to intimidate me with his size. He would stand in front of the door so that I couldn’t leave. He didn’t care if the kids were around to witness everything. He would make it seem like I was the one that was crazy. “You stupid B*&!# you better get away from me. You are so stupid and crazy. Nobody wants your rundown self. I got a girl, now what? She better than your stupid A#&. She has way more than you do anyways. I need to get my stuff and I’m out. I don’t want anything to do with you. I dare you to go to the courts too, I bet you don’t get a penny. I ain’t helping you with nothing.” I don’t know what made me snap. It wasn’t like I hadn’t heard all of this before but something hit a nerve. I remembered the prescription that was still in the cabinet and I poured as many pills as my hand could hold. I took each pill one by one.

He continued to pack his stuff and call me stupid. He even started getting the kids things. He was going to leave me for dead. I crawled into my bed as I began to grow increasingly tired. I don’t know how or even if it was me who called my mom, but my mom was on the other end of the phone. I am not even sure what was said, but soon after the phone call, my mother was at my home. I remember the sirens and vaguely being carried away, but shortly after everything went black. I didn’t know if I was dead or alive. I remember once we got to the hospital, I was forced to drink some black liquid that forced me to throw up and then I went out again. What had I done? Where were my babies?

*Note: Thank you for allowing me to share some of the darkest moments in my life. It has definitely been a journey this past year to come to a point in my relationship with God that has allowed me to be transparent. I am no longer bound by my past. When I read some of the pages from my book, I ask myself did I write that. Last year, I just felt and overwhelming desire to push and to continue to push until there was a release. I got my breakthrough and although the title is Sunday Mourning, after all that I’ve been through I still have JOY!