By Teresa G. D’vall

Thinking about driving into that tree, swallowing those pills or using the blade vertically?

Read this first.

About two weeks ago, they carved a dark spot out of my foot to biopsy for melanoma and during my 10 day wait to find out if I’d live or die, the thought crossed my mind that death might be the better option.

Believing you’d be better off dead is different than wanting to kill yourself. It’s worse.

Currently, my very young children have pottty mouths that would make an inmate blush. My ex husband has become such an accomplished domestic abuser that he actually has the police helping him, 5 (FIVE!!) years after I was granted a permanent order of protection.

AND, I still can’t find gainful employment that will support my emotionally traumatized children, even though I have a Bachelor’s Degree in business management.

Yet, I am still here.

Five years ago, I was married with 6 children, lived in an upscale neighborhood, owned a profitable business and a 3300 square foot colonial with an inground pool.

In 2013 I lost “my husband’s” business, the house (which was my husband’s and NOT mine!!) went into foreclosure and my marriage ended. Then, neighbors in a town where everyone knew me because we owned a restaurant, found out that my picture perfect life was a complete sham. A lie. Fake.

For 15 years I lived with a man who called me names, said I was worthless and terrorized my children. Then one day, I found the courage to leave, but that’s an old story and you already know “How I Almost Became A Convicted Felon.” if you follow me.

Usually, escaping domestic violence is the hard part but I have experienced every setback imaginable since.

My long journey ends tonight.

Even though my kids do not value or respect me and remind me daily that my tax job is only seasonal and therefore doesn’t matter…

(Who gave them that idea???)

Even though all these things and a few I haven’t mentioned because I want to publish this before midnight-

I am about to close on my first home tomorrow. My kids don’t even know yet. I’m going to surprise them. I even made a sign that boasts:

Dear Kids,

Surprise! We have a home.

Love,
Mom

I’m doing this because they’ve already seen this house. I took them there the first time I was going to buy it in 2015. Then I lost my full time job.

(The one that is seasonal now and doesn’t really matter.)

I cried all the way home that day. I didn’t want to disappoint them again so I waited this time.

Tomorrow, I finally get to give my kids a home.

So you see, Suicidal,

It really does get better.

But sometimes it gets worse first.

Hang on for better.

P.S. Thank you Chris Happyness Gardner.
I protected my dream.

(Thank you for the inspiration Mom.)