After suffering years of narcissistic abuse at the hands of my now ex-husband and his psycho girlfriend, I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to end my life. I wanted to see the ocean one last time, so I drove to Galveston.
It was everything I had hoped it would be. I watched the sunrise as I sat on the beach, and I marveled at God’s creation. The sunrise was magnificent, with dark pinks and oranges mixed with light blues and grays streaked across the sky. I cried when I saw the big orange and red orb of the sun peek over the horizon, as if mocking me with its brilliance. It was truly majestic. The water was green and crystal clear that morning and I could see so far out. I sat with my toes curled into the tawny, wet sand, the warm breeze blowing my hair across my face, and I cried. I cried for the stupidity of the whole thing. The needlessness. It didn’t have to be this way. He didn’t have to treat me like he did, I lamented to myself. Why is he so cruel? Why is she so broken that she helped him, I wondered. But here I was. Homeless and alone, truly alone for the first time in a very long time. I couldn’t hear God’s voice like I normally could. Only the sounds of the waves lapping at the beach and the distant sound of children’s laughter could be heard. The silence was deafening, as if God too, was angry with me. Sad, resigned and defeated, I made my plans.
This was it. Today will be my last day on earth, I thought to myself, as I gazed at the sunrise. The weather couldn’t have been better for it, especially for an August in Texas. It was still early, and the temps were only around 78 degrees. It was a good day to die, I thought sardonically.  Still determined, I made my plans.
I went to the store and bought a utility knife with razor blades, a green utility rope, like the kind you would use to tie down things and a 12 pack of Corona (must keep hydrated, I wryly thought to myself) as I brought the items back to my room and spread them out onto the bed.
As I surveyed them, I cracked open the first beer, and it tingled on my tongue and tasted so good as it went down. Crisp and cold, just the way good beer should be on a hot summer day in Galveston.  As I drank the beer, I perused the items I had purchased and thought about each one analytically. I had to think things through and not go into this half-baked, or I knew it wouldn’t work. I could be very impulsive, and this had to work on the first try, I  thought.
I first started with the green rope. I googled how to tie a noose and quickly ignored the messages that popped up from the suicide prevention places. Tying the noose was easy, it turns out. I could hang myself, but where, I wondered as I looked around the room. No good, I deduced. The doors wouldn’t hold rope and the closet rod and shower head seemed too flimsy, and I figured it would only break and cause damage to the room, so I checked it off of the list.
Next, I eyed the utility knife warily. Nope, I quickly shot this idea down, as I don’t do pain (I had had enough pain in my life lately, and this was not the way, I firmly told myself) as I nixed this idea altogether. Too messy anyways. I would be terrible, and this had to work. I couldn’t handle the idea of the mess I would be leaving for the poor maid, either. Also, what if I missed the veins altogether? This stopped me in my tracks. So I checked this idea off my ever-growing shorter list. What can I do that doesn’t hurt, I wondered, as I cracked open the third beer and feeling slightly buzzed by now.
I decided to drive around and think things through, so I packed everything into my car and drove aimlessly up and down the Seawall, looking out into the water, beginning to fill up with the families out playing with their children in the surf, enjoying the fine weather, and having a happy vacation.  I wish I had taken more vacations, I thought, as I watched them play.
Finally, I had an idea that I knew would work, and didn’t hurt at all. I would put socks in my exhaust pipe and give myself carbon monoxide poisoning. The exhaust would back up into my car. It was perfect, and painless, and I knew just the place.
I turned my red Honda CRV into the hotels front entryway, and made a sharp right and went down into their parking garage. It was small, and very quiet down here. Apparently, some people used this for cruise parking, so there wasn’t a lot of in and out traffic down here. I knew this was the place.  Somewhat excited now, at the thought of going home to heaven (I hoped anyways) I hopped out and grabbed everything I would need: three socks, composition notebook, pens, my phone and charger.  Looking around nervously to make sure it was clear, I used a pen and jammed three socks into the tailpipe, stuffing them in tightly then started the car. I ran back to the exhaust pipe and tested it to see if any exhaust came out of it. It did not, so I knew it would back up into my car and kill me rather quickly.
I hopped back in, this time into the back seat. Comfort was a must, you know. I grabbed my water and kicked back in the seat, my head on the pillows I had brought from home and began to watch movies on my phone. I could smell the exhaust filling my car, but it wasn’t terrible like they show in the movies. In fact, I really couldn’t tell much difference other than the slight exhaust smell, like when you ride motorcycles. It was perfect, and I knew it.
The only concern I had at all, was that even with my lights on “off”, they still came on in the dimness of the garage and I feared I would be spotted. Then, I thought about it some more.  People are so busy with their own lives that they wouldn’t even notice me, I had said to myself. I was correct about this assumption.  Only two cars came in or out of the garage that night and no one looked my way twice.  No one even gave me a second glance.
I cried a little at the unfairness of the world, felt incredibly sorry for myself, and attempted suicide notes. In the end, I decided to forego written notes altogether.  I made a few drafts of suicide notes for my family in my TikTok drafts folder. There were no words anyways.
The one constant in my mind was Cami and Amee and Colton.  This was going to be so hard for Cami, and I knew it. Guilt would wrack my body each time I thought of her, yet my determination never wavered. I figured my two other kids would be relieved I was gone. They both had me in their phones contact list as Batshit Crazy at one point, so I figured I was doing them a favor by ending it.
This was it, and soon I would be free. I was really doing this.  The car was quite comfortable, with the air blowing high. The silence from God was deafening, however, so I assumed He agreed with me.  It’s time to come home, I thought, as I settled down to watch Marley and Me.  Resolved in my mission, I kept on going.
By the time the movie was over, I could tell the carbon monoxide was working. I hopped out quickly, but only pee beside my car. Hopping back in quickly, my limbs begging to feel oddly light, like Jello and I didn’t seem to have much control over them, so I laid down to fall asleep. This was it, I thought. Goodbye, cruel world. Then, as I drifted off to sleep, I heard God speak to me. He said, “You’re divinely protected,” as if a tired parent would say to a child who was doing something that the parent knew wouldn’t work. My eyes snapped open, and I retorted hotly back out loud to Him, “I’m doing it anyways, and I will see you soon! Tell Steven to pick me up!” Steven was my little brother, two years younger than me, who had taken his life in 2004 when he was 32, and I was 34. I was so excited to be able to see him again.
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