I often cursed God and discredited his power. I could not comprehend how such a great God screwed up and made such a worthless, pathetic, inadequate human being … Me.

My earlier years to me were glorious. The innocence of a child playing in the yard, youthful imagination creating scenes of the African jungle in which I was the slayer. Participating in competitive games of cricket or being chased around the house by my cousins armed with bugs. A sinister act that now puts a smile on my face. My fondest memory was that of story time on the veranda when the lights would go out. Listening to old fables and the childhood experiences of my parents while sitting in the cold night air. A moment in time I wish I could capture. Who would have thought that this child would lose all innocence?

How it all started

High school for many was amazing: numerous friends to hang with, new adventures, outrageous parties, young love, graduation and prom to attend. Sounds good, but it was quite the opposite for me. In fact, I almost never made it to graduation. I almost took my life.

I was the quiet girl who always sat at the back of the class. I never volunteered to answer a question though I knew the answers to many. I managed to make a few friends, though all but two became part of what almost destroyed me. I did well in my first year of high school; I was ahead of my class. But I had a medical condition that plagued me. It made my life more unbearable than it ought to be (I will not state what medical condition just yet) be patient with me, please🙂. I was mercilessly bullied, taunted and abused. I can recall being hit by a couple of male students, their heavy fists weighing against my face, having had an iron chair flung, the locked target, me. I was public enemy number one, the class law that no one should dare talk to me. I remember there being a group of boys who thought it would be funny for one of their friends to forcefully pull my face to his crotch, thrusting his hips back and forth while holding me in his grasp. I held back the tears and pretended I was not embarrassed as the whole class erupted in laughter. My medical condition grew worse over the years, so did the bullying. Verbal abuse became my norm, so much so that I associated every negative word with myself, believing each time it was said. If someone says words don’t hurt or destroy, I must beg to differ. Words are like bullets in your mouth, your tongue being the trigger, inflicting wounds to a person’s mind, you destroy that person’s spirit. I believed I was worthless, unattractive, unimportant. In essence, I thought I was a waste of life.

I was born and raised in a Christian home, and as an obvious move, I would try to draw strength from the one source I thought would not fail me. But when my years of prayers went unanswered and the very people who were “of God, saved and filled to the brim with his spirit” couldn’t even see how badly I was hurting, I figured if even the GREAT GOD had forsaken me, I was truly nothing, so why live? Lower than dirt cannot describe how low I felt. I decided that I should end it all. My mind was perplexed with the darkest of thoughts; I desperately wanted to die. For months I searched for the perfect way to commit suicide, with every second of each day outside of classes, the only thing I thought about was death. I became obsessed, thoughts of the abuse came flooding in, every emotion I ever felt when each incident happened; neglect, hurt, shame, despair, all swept over my body. And while others were sound asleep, I remained wide awake, swallowing cries, my pillow soaked with tears. The daily verbal abuse continued, and with each negative word, I became weaker and weaker. Each word another addition in making the pot boil over. It was December of 2009 when I had finally had enough. Enough of being mercilessly bullied and abused with no one to help or entrust. I was ready to end it all. My months of planning were about to be executed when this happened. Though not certain the reason, I decided to open a book I avoided for months. Anger built as my eyes became fixed on the book that sat at the edge of the bed. I was compelled to open it. It felt so strange in my hands, how could anything in this book possibly help me I thought. I decided to open it whimsically, my mind already made up to read whatever verse my eyes would meet first. Figuring this would be my last read before I die. I kid you not, I opened the book and landed in Ecclesiastes, I read only one verse “Neither be thou foolish: why shouldest thou die before thy time? Ecc 7: 17 KJV. It shook me to the core. For me to open a book I wanted nothing to do with and to read just one verse and be Ecc 7: 17 is in no possible way a coincidence. It was enough for me to reconsider my intended actions. I made a promise to God that I would not think of suicide again. Though It took some time I eventually dropped the idea of death over life. But my low self-esteem, self-hate, and depression continued. I needed a way of escape. Guess who started self-harming? Check part two for continuation. Like, share, comment and subscribe.