Surviving Abusive Relationships- Part Five
My former step-dad had died shortly before I found out about my brother— I had never had a chance to confront the first abuser. Now, I had confirmation of abuse by my dad and he had been dead for years. I had no closure from anywhere. My husband was still of no help. He only made things worse. I was being sucked ever further into the vortex. I was crying all of the time. I was distraught. I fought to claw myself out of the hole I was in—for a while.
At some point, I stopped crying. I just lost that emotion. I don’t know where it went but it was gone. I had spent many years building my faith in God and forming a relationship with Him. Shortly after I stopped crying I stopped praying. I just didn’t have it in me anymore. I sunk ever deeper. I became numb. Meanwhile, the verbal barrages from my husband continued. My mother continued to meddle. Had I realized what was going on, that I was the target of yet another abusive tyrant, I may have been able to somehow drag myself out of the pit. But I was in the middle of a swamp. My brain was completely scrambled. The stresses of life mounted up around me. I felt nothing.
One day, I had to drive about 30 minutes from home to take care of some business. I made a decision. I was going to go handle the task at hand—but I was not going to return home. I had been prescribed some pain pills for a chronic health issue. I was tired. I was done. I headed out the door with my supplies. My daughter was sitting just outside the front door. I told her I loved her, got in my truck, and drove away. I wasn’t scared. I was just done.
I took care of the business that had to be handled. Then I drove to the store. I bought what I felt would be a sufficient amount of alcohol and a pack of Salem Lights. Next came Taco Bell. My last meal would be my favorite. Back in my truck, I headed further away from home. Once I had finished my meal, I started on the Salems. I drove for quite a while. I turned the radio off because I did not want to take the chance of hearing the one song that could have caused me to change my mind.
I went to a remote area my husband had pointed out to me once near Indian Springs. I backed my truck into a hidden area—backing in would likely make it easier to tow it out. I turned the truck off and got out my supplies. I wasn’t scared, but I was a little worried that I would not be able to keep the pills down. I was not used to taking handfuls of pills. The first couple of handfuls were the hardest, mainly because I was concerned about that. After the first few handfuls it was no big deal.
It was dark. I don’t know if it was just because I was pretty much out of it or what, but my breathing seemed really loud. I also could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Then the thing I feared most happened. There was a sound. I wasn’t real coherent but I knew what it was. It was the OnStar. I held my breath. A woman said my name. I don’t remember exactly what else she said but I know she was trying to determine if I was in the truck. I continued to hold my breath. I did not want her to hear me breathing. Then she went away.
The next thing I remember was tapping. I opened my eyes and saw an officer standing next to my door. I don’t remember what he said, but I told him to go away and leave me alone. I closed my eyes. He told me if I didn’t open the door he would break the window. I was going to ignore him but I didn’t want him to break the window. I turned the key on and opened the window. I don’t really remember much of our conversation but it wasn’t long before I got out and stood next to my truck.
The officer had walked away from my truck—I’m not sure why, but I called out to him that I did not want to be intubated. He looked back and said that we would have to see how things went. The next thing I remember is being in the hospital. I was given a cup of charcoal and told to eat it. It was gritty and hard to swallow. I thought I was going to choke. I requested water but my request was denied. I asked for ice chips. I needed something to help the charcoal go down if they wanted me to eat it.
I began to ask for a phone to call my husband. He was not the one I wanted to talk to. I had to ask several times. Finally, after I had ingested enough of the charcoal to pacify the medical guardians, I was given a phone. My husband answered. I immediately asked to speak to my daughter. He reluctantly gave her the phone. As soon as I heard her voice, I apologized. She said, “What did you do?” The phone was then taken from me. After that, most of the evening was a blur.
I was loaded onto a helicopter and flown to a hospital about a half hour from home. I remember being in between the pilot and the assistant. I looked out the front of the helicopter and freaked. My eyes remained closed for the rest of the flight. Daddy may have been a wing walker, but I prefer to keep my feet firmly on the ground. The flight crew were laughing at me. I don’t think they realized I knew they were having fun at my expense, but I suppose I deserved it.
Eventually, I woke up in the emergency room of a hospital about a half hour from my hometown. My husband was there. He told me my mother and daughter were in the waiting room. I did not want my mother there. I told my husband to send out for my daughter. My mother came with her. Another friend or relative was there, I can’t remember which. After a little while, a wheelchair was brought in and I got into it. I was wheeled to my room.
On the way, one of my former coworkers walked past me in the hallway. I was so humiliated. He looked at me with pity. I just looked away. The next thing I remember, I woke up and there was a “babysitter” watching me to make sure I didn’t try to do anything to myself again. I didn’t want to deal with it. I went back to sleep. I would spend the next three days alone in this room. I talked to my husband briefly a couple of times on the phone. I begged him to come visit me. He didn’t. It was so depressing. He couldn’t have cared less about the worthlessness and loneliness I was feeling. Three days later, I went back to my torture chamber—and life dragged on.