Three years ago, the man I now call my husband left. He walked out the front door of our one bedroom home, and never came back. I never heard from him. I felt lost, confused, and alone. So alone that I thought ending my life would be so much better than trying to beg him to come back home. I thought dying would make the pain go away, I thought ending it right then would make everyones life better.
A week after he left, I cut my wrist and downed a baggie full of pain pills. My best friend walked in the room to tell me goodnight, we walked outside to smoke together and he saw my wrist. “Oh my God, Lauren, what have you done?” I fell to the ground. I remember them dragging me to my car, I remember my friend screaming, “Lauren, please stay awake. Talk to me. LAUREN.” I remember my other friend in the backseat, crying and shaking me.
When I got to the hospital, I was no longer responding. I remember waking up in a hospital room, staring at the walls, refusing to speak. I only spoke once, and that was to tell the nurse to clean my wrist. I could see the blood and the cut. My mom was begging me to get it together. I felt like I failed her.
I spent a week in a psychiatric hospital, they basically starved me because I was vegetarian. My car was taken away. My bills weren’t paid. I lost everything. One night in particular, I completely fell apart. For the first time in my life, I prayed. I prayed that if there was a God, would He forgive me? Could He even fathom it? I turned my back on Him, why bother with me?
In that moment, on the hospital room floor, an overwhelming emotion washed over me. I was calming. It was peace. That was my sign. He had heard me, He was there.
A few years went by, I moved away, but I had a friend that always texted me scripture. She always kept me on His path. When I moved back home, I got married to that man who left me. We had a child. We have never been happier. That friend who always texted me encouraging scripture? She invited me to her church, and I went.
That day led me to seek out a church to call home, and I found it. I knelt at the altar, and I spoke to God. He listened. He always listens. He has forgiven me, and I am renewed.
He loves me, even in my darkest moments. I am redeemed.