At one point I attempted suicide again, it was the most serious of all of my attempts. I planned it, which was out of the ordinary for me. All other attempts were spur of the moment attempts. This time I waited until I could get a fresh prescription of muscle relaxers filled. I had 120 pills and I took them all. I remember the medication hit quickly, I stumbled down a flight of stairs in the townhouse we lived in. The next thing I remember I was in the hospital. I had been in the hospital for several days. I found out from a nurse I had been placed on life support, taken off and expected to die, but I didn’t. I couldn’t understand why I failed again. I know now that even then God had his hand on me, he had other plans for me.
In 1989 I met Christian couple who ran the local Christian Serviceman’s Center, which was a home away from home for military and their families. The couple had weekly bible studies and served meals with the studies and at special occasions. I became a regular attendee with what seemed like hundreds of questions about God. My husband rarely attended with me, but since it was a “safe” atmosphere where he didn‘t have to worry about any other man stealing me away, he let me go alone. That was the only place I was allowed to go alone. I had a lot of anger towards this “God” for the abuse in my child hood, which this couple lovingly addressed. After many hours of Christian counseling, I was convinced and on March 30, 1990 I accepted Jesus Christ into my life as my personal savior. But I never told this couple about the sexual or emotional abuse from my husband, I was convinced at this point it was simply part of marriage and had come to accept it. I was severely depressed, psychotic most of the time but still in secret daily prayer.
After three years in Colorado, his orders were changed and we were relocated to Long Beach, California. He was stationed aboard a ship that was to be gone for no more than a few weeks at a time, but he was gone for months at a time. I found new friends, new freedom and a reprieve from my depression. After about a year in Long Beach, we found out the base was closing and the ship was being relocated to San Diego, California, about three hours south.
