Excerpt: April 2002

I can’t take care of my children. Curtis is not only hostile toward me, but the children as well. Sometimes he won’t respond to their phone calls. I can’t afford to get the girls hair done and can barely afford the shampoo and items needed to do their hair myself. They go too long in between perms and as a result their hair has started to break off. When Curtis does get their hair done he takes them to beauticians of his choice, women who are not familiar on how to care of my girls hair, and I have no say so in what he does or who he takes them to. Curtis can’t seem to differentiate between his animosity towards me and his treatment of our kids. I feel hopeless at reaching him no matter what attempts I make. I write him letters explaining their need of him physically, mentally, and spiritually. One day when I called and told him that my electric would be turned off and asked if he could help us, he told me it was not his concern or a priority for him. He offered to take the kids if we ended up in the dark, but giving up my kids was not an option for me and I hung up. Another day that same week one of the kids found a stack of my mail hidden in a corner under the kitchen sink. One of the envelopes contained a Visa card and my child snuck that particular envelope to me so I could pay our electric bill. Imagine his ass knowing I needed to pay my electric and he was harboring a credit card in his house that would enable me to pay my bill. Another day Lil Curtis called his dad all day begging to get his hair cut and Curtis never called him back. I thought back to the night the children were in the living room of our duplex watching television, while I prepared dinner in the kitchen, when Curtis walked into the house unannounced, strode to the entertainment center, disconnected our CD player and without a word to any of us, took it and walked out the door. When the kids looked at me for an explanation I could only stand there stumped. I simply told them I would buy another CD player and to come and eat dinner. I was angry with Curtis and I was desolate and extremely tired of the ongoing battle he was waging against me. I guess he felt like the CD player belonged to him. I started to lose strength to go on, and I felt so bad for my children. One night I came home and found the children gone. There was no note so I called Curtis’ house and was informed by Kerrie that daddy had indeed came and got them and they were going to spend the night with him. I placed the pizza I had brought for their dinner in the refrigerator and laid down on the couch. I tried to make sense of the mess my family was in. I came up with nothing. My children would continue to suffer if I didn’t do something, but what? Curtis wasn’t mad at the children, he was mad at me, but they were the ones suffering. I got up and cleaned my house from top to bottom, washed, dried, and folded all of the children’s clothing. Then I took a bath, put on my prettiest set of pajamas, and fixed my hair and make-up. I was ready. I washed down over seventy pills (vicodin and valium) with a bottle of Nyquil. I locked and chained the front door, then lay down on the couch and watched the religious channel until my time was up. My mind raced over all the events leading up to this day. I talked to God and pleaded for His forgiveness. I imagined living in my heavenly mansion and walking streets paved with gold. I concluded that without me in the picture Curtis would no longer have a reason to mistreat my kids. His anger would finally dissipate and he could once again freely love our children. I knew the kids would be sad without me, but I also knew that Curtis would take care of them and my family would love and nurture them. I hoped that God would allow me to watch over them from heaven. Before I fell off to sleep I prayed that God would forgive me. I had failed my children miserably and felt they were better off without me. Other than my children I had no reason to live and I had no more fight left in me. I was tired.

... I woke up hours later to find Paula sitting in my living room asking me if I wanted to go to Bennigans for drinks. I wondered why she was in heaven too. To my chagrin I looked around and realized that I was still in my living room and blamed Paula for interrupting my ascension to heaven. I asked her what time it was and why she was in my house. I explained to her that I was on my way to heaven and she needed to leave. Paula was so puzzled and told me I had called her talking crazy and she couldn’t’ go back to sleep because she was worried about me. I told her to leave and promised to meet her at Bennigans after I got dressed. It was eleven o’clock, which meant that I had slept four hours. A few minutes after Paula left Curtis arrived to bring the kids home. At first I thought it was a burglar trying to get into my house and then I realized it was the kids and I wouldn’t let them in. Curtis got pissed and called my mom to tell on me, but she got fly with him, and told him to take the kids back to his house. I was wondering why everyone was bothering me when I was trying to get to heaven. While Curtis was beating on my door I walked out the back door and got in my car and left. When I backed out of the garage I was aware of driving my car across the lawn onto the street. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with my car and why it wouldn’t drive on the street. In retrospect I know that God was with me that night.

 My suicide attempt turned into a comical fiasco.