1st Attempt

Not many of you know the specifics of my 2015 year of Hell. Let me break it down for you. This post is going to be very matter of fact and honest. No blood spilled, but if you don’t want to read, then stop here.

2015. I was living with a friend in Lehi with the dog we adopted together. We were both actors and auditioned for Ghost the Musical at the West Valley Hale. I got in. He didn’t. Begin the tension between us. Around this time my cat of 10 years was experiencing kidney failure and was scratching up anyone who came near her, and she lived at my parent’s house. I made the choice to put her down.

I was only in Ghost for two rehearsals. I got depressed because I felt that I was just the token black person, they didn’t even have me singing a good solo. So I figured they could use any black person (kind of true because they took the black MAN in the cast and gave him my part) and this was harming my self esteem. I quit. Then I put my cat to sleep. Then all Hell broke loose.

One day I left work early and went to my parent’s house to cry. I don’t remember if this was the same day I put my cat down, but I think it was. My dad was home and tried to calm me down, but he had to go. Cue the depression thoughts.

My depression may be the same or different from everyone’s, I’m not sure. I get stuck on one negative thing and it is a downward spiral until I figure everything about me sucks so why should I live? I got in my car and drove to Heber to kill myself. (I didn’t want anyone I knew to find my body) I texted my room mate all my passwords so that my parents could access my bank accounts and stuff. I stopped at a Walmart to get trash bags and duct tape ( I was going to suffocate myself).

I’ve got to say, that roommate, who I am no longer friends with, saved my life. He contacted my sister who is married to a cop. He got my location from my phone and gave her the information. (He had my passwords, remember?) So as I drove up into the mountains of Heber a cop pulled me over and took me to the hospital.

That was attempt number 1. It took place in January if 2015. As a result, I was hospitalized for four or five days, but that is another story. Funny thing, I’d gotten my first tattoo a few days before, telling me to love myself. Who knew now, two years later, how much tattoos would not just pierce my skin, but my heart as well.

Attempt 2 Tale….next week.

(To be continued, though you already know how this ends.)

(Surprise! I’m dead and I’m Becca’s ghost writing this blog. Ha ha…)

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