The Product of a Broken Heart Read online

  I was feeling a sense of sadness, thinking about that moment in my life, thinking about the decisions I made then and how, after that, my life was never the same.

  I gazed at the pictures that hung on the wall, the smiles on my kids’ faces and the seriousness on my husband’s face. I took off the towel I had wrapped around my neck and tossed it into the dirty clothes hamper, as I looked up at the ceiling and thought back on the time after I told Christian that I was pregnant.

  It’s amazing how things work out. I never knew that I would be here at this stage in my life. If anyone knew me then, they would have thought my destiny was to be strung out on drugs, or at least on someone’s corner or two if you let Mrs. Betty Joe tell it. I spent my nights working in nursing homes, making eight bucks an hour and spent my days working at Long John Silver’s. I found myself in the same boat I promised I would not be in. I remember my children going from one home to the next for others to watch them, so I could go to work just to have enough money to feed them.

  As tears began to fall down one side of my face, I could still hear the drinking glass breaking as christian threw it from one end of the living room to the next. Christian and I fought day and night as I pressured him to help watch the kids. To stay at home with me. Constant pleading with him to help me, but for him, the clubs and his friends meant more to him than the kids and I. The nights were cold and lonely as I lay in bed alone, knowing he was out doing God knows what. I could still hear the gunshots as he aimed the gun at my head, fearing for my life as my heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest.

  My “happily ever after” had quickly turned into a never-ending nightmare, and I was being forced to face what was in front of me. The man I thought loved me, didn’t love me, for if he could have erased me from the face of the earth, he would have done just that. It’s funny how so many of us women confuse love with attention, sex, abuse, etc. that we devalue what true love is and replace it with actions that were never equated to love.

  As the memories of the gunshots became louder and louder, I tried to come up with a reason for the downward spiral, but I could never understand what was going through Christian’s mind on that cold night. All I remember is that it all started with a fight. I caught him cheating with another woman, and he thought it was ok to blame me because he was miserable with me, he would constantly tell me.

  As I walked in my room and sat at the end of the bed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and noticed how different I looked. I rubbed my face, pulling my skin back, tightening it up and then rapidly letting it go. I smiled as I saw how much I now looked like my mother. If only she could see me now, I whispered. If only I could let her know that I am doing fine. As l longed for her, I let the tears I wanted to hold in run freely.

  As I pulled the hamper with the clean wash towels, I began to fold them one by one, and placing them on the bed. “Dana! Dana!” The voice became louder. “Wake up and get up before you are late!”

  “I hear you, mama,” I said softly as I wiped my face. Smiling from one ear to the other, as I continued to fold the towels before the kids got up for the day.

  Chapter 6

  It’s been three years, and christian and I have gotten worse by the day. luckily, he did show up at the hospital for the birth, which turned out to be twins. The look on his face when the doctor told him it will be a boy and a girl, was priceless. He could have passed flat out in the doctors’ office. Of course, he was not happy, nor did he help. Year after year he became more and more distant. The only time he came around was to have sex, tickle the kids, or sleep. From what I was told he lives pillar to post. After the twins were born, a year later I got pregnant again with amanda. Which even made things worse. Now I have three mouths to feed and a man that is not helping. After listening to all the promises and lectures on how he was going to be better, it never failed time and time again I was left disappointed.

  knock knock! I heard the sudden knocks on the door early on a Saturday morning, the morning I had appointed to be my rest day. Who can possibly be banging on my door? I thought as I rolled back over, throwing my blanket over my head.

  “Dana! Dana!” the person called out while pounding on the door.

  The knocks continued, and then I heard little taps at my living room window. “Ok now, whoever this is has completely lost their mind,” I said. “Who is banging on my door this early on a weekend?” I knew this type of knocking always meant something serious, and I just was not in the mood for anything serious at the moment.

  The knocks continued, and I knew whoever was on the other side of the door would not leave until I opened it.

  Throwing the blankets off, I stumbled out of bed, slipped on my slippers, and walked slowly to the door, contemplating who was on the other side and what they wanted so early in the morning.

  I opened the door and saw my friend Ashley standing there with her hands on her hips, glaring at me as if her banging at the door would suffice for whatever she had to tell me. Ashley was a little over five-foot-two, very pleasant, and always seemed to be in a good mood, and if I had a problem she would be the person I go to, because she always seemed to have a solution, regardless if I took it or not. After I dropped out of school to tend to the babies, she never stopped talking and keeping in contact with me.

  I looked at her as if in the next second, if she didn’t explain why she was at my door so early in the morning, indeed, something was going to be flying her way. She quickly rushed past me and sat on the couch, then quickly stood back up as if she couldn’t hold her composure as she began to pace the floor trying to come up with the words to say.

  “Ashley! What is it?” I exclaimed.

  “Dana” she slowly started to pour out what she felt was important enough to wake me up from my sleep.

  “What is it?” I answered.

  “Do you know that Christian is messing around on you with the lady around the corner?”

  “Yes,” I replied firmly.

  She stared at me in anger, waiting for me to elaborate.

  “So why are you letting him run in and out of your house?” she yelled in confusion with one hand glued on her hip, glaring at me eye to eye.

  “Ashley,” I said as I took a deep breath, “what does this have to do with you banging on my door this early in the morning?”

  “Because he is using you, Dana,” she replied softly, putting her hand to her head, interrupting my next question. “He just comes here to eat and sleep, half watch the kids, and take the little money you do get and spend it on God knows what, she yelled. Then he throws in your face that you are fat, useless, and nobody would ever want you. Dana, you come to me time after time crying, enough is enough she went on yelling.

  “No, he is not,” I replied, ignoring that she said half watch the kids. Either he does or he doesn’t, I wanted to blurt out but instead, I left it alone to avoid any more friction. He just can’t make up his mind right now ashley, but he will soon understand that I am the one for him, the kids and I. He is just going through some things and I have to be here for him I yelled over her attempt to ask another question, “And what does this have to do with you, Ashley?” I repeated, rolling my eyes.

  “Dana, you work two jobs, barely see your kids, stress yourself out over bills and this so-called man, and on top of that take pills just to maintain this crazy lifestyle you are allowing yourself to live—”

  “Ashley, shut up.” I stopped her before she continued to think she could Dr. Phil my life. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you get out of my house? This has nothing to do with you! Christian loves me. By the way, while I am waiting on him, I am enjoying my life,” I said in anger, poking my lips out to give the impression that I was confident in what I was doing. “I even have a friend I am talking with,” I said as I twirled a strand of my hair and stood by the door. knowing that wasn’t the case, I became angrier by the fact that I made t
hat dysfunctional comment, but I couldn’t dare show her that I was being weak.

  She shook her head at me and walked out the door. I slammed the door behind her and began pacing the floor. The nerve of her to come over here and scorn me about what is going on between Christian and me! The nerve of her to bang on my door! Who does she think she is, a professor of life journeys? I thought as I chuckled to myself in anger. Then I flopped down on the couch, crying. It didn’t hurt as much as when I just kept it to myself, but the fact that ashley pulled it to the surface and caused me to have to deal with it, made me hurt even more. I became more angry not only toward him but toward myself.

  From the living room, I could hear the twins starting to cry. Jordan always woke up at the drop of a dime. Surprisingly, he stayed asleep through all the yelling Ashley and I had done. I started crying more as the kids cried louder, in need of someone to pick them up and tend to their needs. I punched at the wall and kicked the table until I broke the glass in half. And then fell to my knees sobbing, knowing that christian was around the corner with that home-wrecker and I was here, broken, with the kids. I had no strength in me to fight with him or to handle what was going on, and on top of that, try to hold on to the slither of possibilities that this relationship will turn out good.

  Currently, my mother’s health was deteriorating and she was losing her eyesight. She always said that if she could lose anything else besides her hearing and her eyesight, she would be just fine. She needed to see and hear what was going on around her, she joked as she watched her soap operas. Knowing she was losing her sight was very hard on me. Now I had to deal with what was going on with Christian, on top of everything else.

  I stopped crying and began to sob a little while taking deep breaths, remembering the bottle of Xanax in the bathroom cabinet that Jason had given me last week. I walked past the kids crying, glancing at them as the stream of tears rolled down my face and continued toward the bathroom, slowly moving, embracing the decision I had made. I didn’t want to make what I was about to do harder than it already was.

  I poured the pills into my hand and put them one by one into my mouth. I began to see images of people and images of hurtful memories of the past that I thought I had buried. I cried even harder as I put pill after pill in my mouth. My life didn’t matter. I repeated over and over in my head, This is too much.

  I put my head back and threw the rest of the pills into my mouth. Then I grabbed my toothbrush container, filled it with water, and tossed it in my mouth. Pushing myself to make it back to the couch, I stumbled past the broken glass. Both my hands were hanging on to the wall as I fought to keep my eyelids from closing. I lost my balance as I got near the couch, and with the last bit of energy I had, I quickly threw myself on it and closed my eyes. I could still hear the twins, christina and jordan in the background crying. As the cries got further and further in the distance, I closed my eyes without opening them back up.

  “Dana! Dana!” I heard people calling my name in the distance as I lay there. “Dana, can you hear me?”

  I can hear you, I wanted to say to the man who was asking the question, but I couldn’t answer.

  “Dana, if you can hear me, open your eyes,” He continued.

  His voice could have traveled from Earth to Mars, I thought, as he said my name again.

  Dana!

  Who is this? I thought. I felt someone pushing on my shoulders.

  “Dana! Dana!” the man yelled over and over.

  Yes, I said in my head, for some reason thinking they could hear me yelling back at them. I’m here; I’m here.

  I could hear the man talking to a lady.

  “Yes sir, I hear her responding.”

  Hey, that sounds like my mother, I said to myself. What is going on?

  “We pumped her stomach and can’t seem to get her to respond,” the man who did all the screaming went on.

  What is he saying? What does that mean? I thought. What does he mean he can’t get me to respond? If everyone would be silent, they would hear me screaming at them, letting them know I am here and alright.

  “Let me handle it,” the woman said. “Dana! Dana! Wake up and get up!”

  Hey, this is my mother, I concluded. Mama, I am here. Mama, why can’t you hear me?

  She then yelled, “Dana, wake up, and get up!”

  I started to move my hands and my feet back and forth. She yelled my name again, slowly I started to blink my eyes and strained to open them.

  As my eyes slowly opened, I saw a tall, dark-skinned man in a white jacket and my mother beside him. I tried speaking in a frantic tone to find out what was going on.

  Why am I in the hospital? I thought. Nothing seemed to come out. “Mama,” I tried to say, but nothing came out.

  She slowly patted my shoulder, advising me to lie back and rest. The doctor came over and explained that I overdosed on pills and that my stomach was pumped. You would have to stay overnight for observation and we hope you are able to get some sleep throughout the night, he slowly said as he fastened his coat.

  I couldn’t say anything, but I felt the tears roll down the side of my face. I closed my eyes, afraid of what was going on with me.

  I remembered that moment in my life as if it was yesterday, the day I tried to take my life, the day I thought what I was going through was unbearable and unmanageable. I could still feel just as I felt lying in that cold hospital bed, shivering from the cool temperature in the room. I couldn’t talk, nor could I come to grips that my life could have ended. Constant thoughts ran through my head, and I wondered who would take care of my kids. That thought alone terrified me.

  As I finished folding the towels and got off the bed, I walked through the house to see if the kids were up. The day started out very quiet. Luckily, the kids were on their best behavior, which was a surprise for them and for me. I didn’t hear any doors slamming or balls bouncing around, nor did I hear the little taps at the door from my youngest child trinity, asking questions that would give her the answer once she came in. She loved to barge in the room just to ask, “Mama, are you awake?”

  But more surprisingly, I was shocked I didn’t hear Amanda and Jordan fighting, which became a weekend ritual, or rather an everyday ritual I whispered to myself. Amanda is the middle child, who made it a point to live up to her duty as the middle child. As I peeked into each of their rooms, I realized they were still asleep. While I have the extra time, I will start breakfast, I told myself, quietly closing the door to their rooms, seeing Trinity turn over and situate herself before falling back to sleep.

  Walking into the kitchen, I opened the fridge to pull out a carton of eggs as I started to think about how many other women go through life thinking life is just too much. I realized that no matter how old you are, whether you are twelve or fifty, situations will still come to demand your strength. At that moment in my life, I thought I had it all planned out. I thought everything was going the way I wanted it to. I had a job. I was taking care of a home. I had my car. My money was coming in the way I wanted, even if I had to take on two jobs to have it, and I had my occasional extracurricular activities on the side when I needed them. Even if christian did pop up every now and then, I thought having a piece of a man was better than not having one at all.

  I thought I had it all mapped out. The more I planned things out, the more it seemed the distractions came, one after another, altering my plans for my life.

  When I couldn’t take the constant redirecting of my plan, I decided to take my life. I had planned on growing old with Christian. I thought we were going to raise our kids together. The thought of my kids not having a father like me terrified me. I had to grow and learn that, in life, many unexpected details pop up. I had to learn that life never goes exactly the way we plan it. I had to learn to take on God’s plan, and it was the fight for better that the creator of creations plan prevailed. It was in the fight that the Creat
or’s plan came to pass. I tried for so long to tell God my plan and that I needed my plan to work out the way I wanted it to. I told the Creator to look at my blueprint and make it work. Make christian and I work, my actions would scream out. After taking on Gods plan, I understood that the plan I thought I wanted, was not the plan I needed. Understanding that there are oppositions in the creator’s blueprint as well. There still was loved ones who walked out of my life, friends who said they will be there to the end who disappeared, and family who turn their backs on me. I had to learn to fight, but fight in the will of God. With the creator’s blueprint, I know that everything worked and is continuing to work out for my good.

  I have grown and came to the conclusion that if it weren’t for the hiccups in my life, I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I am now. If it weren’t for the tears and late nights pacing the floor, I would not be able to stand today. It took giving up myself and taking on God. So many times, I told the people I encountered from day to day that I had to die to myself and live through God.

  I had to give up what I wanted and what I thought I needed, and take on what I really needed and live through God. I had to learn to understand the struggle, and what it meant. I can’t want greatness without great struggle, I said to myself, chuckling as I cracked the eggs into the bowl before whipping them. It was different when I struggled outside of knowing who the creator was, than struggling all by myself with no direction and hope. I learned that the struggle within living through the creator was all working out for my good. Soon going through struggles in life, didn’t seem to faze me the same. The struggles kept me rooted in God. The struggles kept me praying, kept me seeking for my next move. I was no longer driven by my emotions in life, causing me to dig a deeper hole than I wanted to be in. Great things and great people are not created out of an easy task, nor does greatness bloom overnight. Whatever is worth having must be worth the fight, that greatness will require a person to endure, despite what the process looks like, I said to myself.