I was at one of the lowest points in my life on October 19, 2004.
I had been working so hard to get "At This Moment," out, I thought, just like everyone who was doubtful of me, it wasn't going to happen. By this time I had already had 5 release dates on the book, pre-sales had been done, and everyone thought I was lying and that I was a failure. I believed that I had been defeated, and I didn't want to face the responsibility of being defeated, because I had always won, whatever I put my mind to. This time, I let their words and actions get the best of me. And I should have never let that happened.
This is something that I've never talked about before. The only other person who knows this story shall remain nameless, but isn't a member of my family. It's someone that I've never seen before...Never met. But I felt I could share this experience with them because I felt they would be able to empathize with my state of mind in sense...Besides the people that were there that night, and my ex boyfriend-I have remained silent until now.
Some of you know what that feeling is like to have the world on your shoulders and you're in this box trying to make a way for yourself and things just keep happening the opposite of what you want them to, and everyone is watching, you're alone. You start to second guess your decisions and you start to think if what you're pursing is right or not...
It was October last year. The leaves were falling, the sky was dim, the air was brisk and I had just gotten out of the hospital with an appendicitis. My uncle was here in Los Angeles from IRAQ. I was dating who I thought was a great guy. But my book wasn't out and I was starting to feel the pressure of personal deadlines, disappointments, extruciating criticism, and doubt beyond belief.
This particular night, I was on the phone with my ex and we were talking. I went to the kitchen and made an apple martini while I was on the phone with him, and he was telling me that he didn't think things were working out. That was just the icing on the cake for me....but it wasn't really him. It was just that I was working so hard on "At This Moment" and it was taking longer than a moment to get together, it was my family who had really never played a positive part in my life, it was the plaque of me being gay, black, and overweight that chipped at my life daily.
So I am drinking my martini, and there is about half a glass left. And I was listening to this nigga talk all this trash and it started just to repeat in my head, him, my uncle, people talking trash, the book not going right, and my unsavory taste of life. It was at that moment I decided I was worthless.
All my life, I wanted to do right by people. I wanted to live my dream...and me being naieve and vulnerable, I thought that it was going to be easy. I had convinced myself that I'm was no good and all the negative things that people told me were right. They were right, and somewhere along the line of life, they had broken me down-I let them win. So I reached out and got the Codeine and Vicodin bottles and I downed 7 codeine and four Vicodins, and I washed them down with my apple martini.
My ex noticed that I was starting to slur and act crazy, so he asked me what was wrong and I gave him this whole spiel about my book and yadee yadee yada, and I told him that I was not going to wake up tomorrow and that this was it. I told him he better not call the police and don't come looking for me he wasn't going to find me. He did what I told him not to do. I knew that he called someone, I felt it.
So I hung up the phone and I wobbled to my door, walked out of my house, got in my truck, and I am swerving down the street at 3 in the morning. I was on my way to the beach, I was going to drive into the water....like I really was gonna make it that far. I was already sweatin and damn near keeping myself from throwing up. My ex is callin the cell phone, then my mom starts callin the phone. I answer and shes yelling about what am I doing, where am I at, cursing, so I hung up. I stopped my car about 4 blocks away from my house.
I cried so hard righ then and there, because I knew I was dying. I didn't want to die. But I had already made up my mind that this was the way out for me....I passed out.
I woke up and I was still sitting in my car on the side of the street.
I was mad that I woke up. I was mad because I was stupid. I was mad because I was weak. I was mad because after all of that, I still had to face the music. I still had to deal with the issues that I so desperately tried to run from. I will spare you the details of what kinda mess I was lying in...but I drove home. I was still mad that I didn't die. Because now, I would have to explain to everyone why I tried to kill myself, when my plan was to make everyone suffer and feel guilty for all of the shit they had said and done to me. Looking back, I see how people can get so low and how suicide is so selfish...and so weak. But when you're in that moment of oblivion, there is nothing else that makes sense.
My uncle and my mom were in the kitchen when I walked in the door reeking of shit and piss.
There was this big intervention in my kitchen about how much I hated them and my life and how they always focused on everything negative I had ever done. No one cared that I started a publishing company, none of them bothered to help, not that I wanted them to, but you think of your family as this support structure and it wasn't holding you up like it was supposed to.
I was mad that my mom has never, not a once read any of my school articles, never once read my book, never attended anything I had done. I was always the fat and stupid one. The one who was the cause of her drug habit. I was the reason for everything that had ever gone bad in her life. Here was my uncle sitting here in my kitchen on his high horse. Never showed up to my high school graduation, never spent time with me growing up, and even let the words of fat slip across his tongue. I was tired. I was tired of being the victim, I was tired of failing, I had enough. And after I got all of that out, facing the music-I went and took a shower and went to sleep. Not calling my ex or he didn't know what happened until I woke up the next day.
The next morning my uncle knocked on my door. In his hand was the proof for me to sign off on to get my book delivered the next week. For once in my life I felt something was finally right, and I was in control of it. I could now silence everyone who had doubted me. But I showed myself that even though you go through a bunch of shit, never cut yourself short of whats to happen tomorrow.
Telling you this, reminds me not to loose sight of things that we want, even if they take forever. Though times will get hard-and you go through an array of emotions, something good will always come out at the end of the storm.
Today, stronger than I was a year ago, my life is wonderful. Even the darkest hour is beautiful, because I wasn't allowed to die. That is the day that I realized my purpose in life was to be a figure, a motivational figure, a figure that people could look at and realize the worth within themselves. I enjoy that very much.
Although life is a constant struggle, it is never worth giving up, it is never letting people dictate your life for you, it's not about pleasing others to feel your self worth. It's about finding out what it is that you want, what's you happy, and you do it. Fuck what ever you go through, that's only to prepare you for what's to come. Nothing in life easy, everything is worth the pain, the struggle, the story, the lesson, the tragedy, and the triumph. I am here today because I was allowed to die (in the emotional sense) and comeback revived, refreshed, revamped and in control of my own destiny.
Thank you for allowing me to have this moment. Thank you for giving your gift to the world. Thank you for reminding me, and anyone else who has read this not to give up on yourself, because you never know what tomorrow holds.