stories
perfectly imperfect
November 6, 20212 years ago today, I overdosed. Somehow, my son called me right after I took the pills. He noticed the difference in me and called 911. I had given up, at the bottom of a bottle. I was just tired. Tired of everything. All I could see was how everything was against me. I just went through my 3rd divorce, lost my restaurant in the divorce, and had to move back in with my son. I have no memory of paramedics arriving, or the hospital. I slept for 32 hours straight. I woke up in a mental hospital 3 hours from my home. I learned a lot about my self in the days there. When I was able to leave, not one of my family members would come get me. I slept all those hours but went home to the same problems with the knowledge that I could not go to the bottle for answers. You see, from the 3 divorces, I thought I wasn’t good enough. I lost myself in trying to figure out how and who I needed to pretend to be for someone to want me. 3 weeks after being home was my 25 year class reunion. I had no intention of going. I had a classmate persuade me to go and be his designated driver for the day and night. I am so thankful I agreed. You see, my best friend since 5th grade was there. It was the only reunion she ever attended. When I saw her, I hugged her so tight and cried like a baby. Over the upcoming weeks, I told her my story. She presented me with this bracelet. She told me that we have to learn to love ourselves before we can love anyone else. She also told me that I was perfectly imperfect. I needed to love me, be the real me, and be happy in my own skin. Now, we talk often, and she has become a major part of my life.