Shadows to Light Your Way: Without Darkness, There Would Be No Light. Both Have Great Significance.

By Tracy Lynn Solomon

For many years, Tracy Solomon was told to write a book, share her story and as much as it seemed to lay on her heart, life kept getting in the way.

However, when laying in the ICU facing the end of her life, nothing seemed more important than trying to help others not end up where she had now found herself, headed to rehab for a suicide attempt.

As long as there is life, there is hope. Sometimes the darkest place is needed to help us see the tiniest light and truly get our attention. We need shadows to light our way.

Life is not about just getting through.
Life is about living.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Aug 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781684707836

Book preview

SOLOMON

Copyright © 2019 Tracy Lynn Solomon.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0784-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0783-6 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 08/20/2019

INTRODUCTION

I’ve always said, my life is an open book, which in some parts has remained true. I’m not really one to hide things and my life isn’t really interesting enough to cover things up.

However, it’s become a bit clearer, well a lot, my life isn’t just about me or what I consider hidden or not hidden, personal, private or an open book. These things are seen and mean different things to those around me.

Keeping things private is far different than keeping things bottled up.

Perfection? Who set that goal? I mean who comes up with what is or is not good enough?

I’m not a person that needs everything perfect or all my ducks in a row, but it would be fantastic to have them by one lake and not pooping on everyone’s patios. That’s just nasty!

2017 hasn’t been going well. It’s only July and I’ve already had two very near death experiences. Two overdoses.

But I want to live. I need to live.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

June 11, 2017

Where am I? Why is my throat so sore? Where is Myron? There’s something in my mouth! Oh my God! Get it out! Where the hell am I? Why can’t I move? Why isn’t anyone talking to me?? Answer me! Where are Myron and Katia?

That’s what was rushing through my mind when I woke up in the ICU on June 13, 2017, two days after two friends had saved my life by calling 911 because they realized something was wrong due to my voice on the phone and sounding off in my text. They saved my life!

Finally, I hear doctors and nurses talking but even if I’m responding I’m not really hearing their words. I have no idea what I am saying.

I’m in panic mode trying not to show it. It’s kind of funny how that still exist no matter what situation you’re in.

They pulled the breathing tube out of my mouth and removed the arm restraints I’d been put in. Finally, I could look around!

People are talking at me, not to me. I am so full of questions, tired, my chest feels like someone punched me!

Later I would learn I responded to questions, got mad and interacted at this time but in my mind, it was like just seeing people watch me, muted for just a short time then maybe I went back to sleep?

At this point, I had no idea I had digested enough alcohol, to go unconscious and into acute respiratory failure. The EMTs did a sternum rub (that’s why my chest hurts) to keep me from dying, nor did I recall overdosing on pills just 6 months prior to this.

I’ll find all that out very soon.

CHAPTER 1

It takes a village

Let’s just say I was an active child. I’m sure some others could maybe find more colorful words to describe me but one way or the other, I wasn’t one to sit around.

I loved being outside playing, riding my bike, swinging on this swing that hung in a huge tree. I would go so high the ropes would give a little and then snap!

My dog, Skeezer, a black, medium-sized Cock-a-poo, hated the swing and he was too big to force him to participate but he liked watching me, or maybe he was scared to leave me alone. Either way, he sat and kept his eyes on me, at a distance.

Same thing with climbing trees. My idea was to get as high as possible and see if I could jump and scare or surprise someone.

I know what you’re thinking, this girl is crazy! I did have a good amount of broken bones but those were like trophies to me!

Plus, there was nobody to stop me. I didn’t have my mom.

My mom left my dad when I was just few months old and there weren’t many visits because she moved up north, raised a new family which gave me 2 new, little sisters and a new, little brother.

As I grew older, I realized although I wanted her to come back and be my mommy, that would mean walking away from another marriage and my other 3 very special siblings. I felt selfish for ever having wished for her return but I honestly still did at times.

I wanted someone to talk to about girl things, things that bothered me or just random things.

I spent so much time alone and prayed God would bring someone very special in my life. I had love to give but I felt unheard, unseen and like I didn’t belong period. It’s a feeling which would follow me throughout life.

At church, different ladies, who appeared to be good moms, talked bad about me when they thought I wouldn’t hear or find out.

Instead of being kind or nurturing, they were dismissive and turned away. What happened to, it takes a village? Why wouldn’t