First of all, I want to thank Rabbi Brody for giving me the opportunity to express myself. I was a heartbeat away from suicide; my story could save others from a similar fate. I sank in a quicksand mire of anger, depression, frustration, and bitterness. The Almighty had pity on me, and in His infinite mercy pulled me out to safety; maybe, so I could live to tell this story.
I was a picture postcard coed. Not only was I a cheerleader at Auburn, but I was an honors graduate in economics. I completed an MBA at Wharton up north in twelve months. Every job I interviewed for wanted me. Homesick, I finally decided to accept a promising junior executive training position in one of Alabama's most prestigious banking institutions.
With my bright star still on the rise, I started playing tennis with what I thought was a dream of a man - 3 years older than me, very smart, very good-looking, very athletic, and super successful - "Tom". Often, he'd leave his office and pick me up from work. Since my roommate and best friend (at the time) was also a tennis player, she and her boyfriend would play doubles against Tom and me, followed by dinner and more jolly times. Who could ask for more?
The bubble burst when I went away to visit friends at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I was supposed to be away for a week, but I came down with the flu and preferred to feel miserable at home. I walked in the door of my apartment 48 hours ahead of schedule, and lo and behold, discovered Tom (who two weeks earlier had asked me to marry him and I agreed) in a very intimate position with my roommate.
I nearly fainted. The double treachery of my fiance and my best friend was unexpected to say the least and far more than I could handle. I moved out on the spot.
My life became a house of dominoes that caved in. I went from a foxy 126 pounds to a 98 pound bag of bourbon-drinking and pill-popping misery. I quit my job before they fired me, but the worse is yet to come: The Almighty, in His mercy (that often looks like cruelty), made me run into my former roommate at least once a week, sometimes in the store, the post office, or wherever. Every time I saw her, it was like treason night and a knife in my heart all over again. After seeing her in the car with Tom at the gas station, I went home, drank three shots of bourbon and then took a dozen 10 mg valium pills. I was punching out of life.
The Almighty had other ideas and delayed my funeral. Instead, I woke up in the hospital at the University of Alabama in Birmingham with a pumped stomach and hooked up to a respirator. In a cloud, I heard a doctor telling my mom and dad that they were lucky that I was alive.
A few days went by, and I was still hospitalized. Between the overdose and the booze - my pitiful attempt at suicide - I had suffered a terrible seizure. In the same room, a sweet and a little-bit shy young lady in her late 20's was recovering from a stomach operation. The difference between her and me is that she was always smiling, but I wasn't especially happy to still be here on earth. The other difference is that while I was Baptist, she wore a star of David around her neck.
To be continued tomorrow, G-d willing
