When She Flpt: Overcoming Suicide Through Transformed Thoughts

By Michelle R. Jackson

This book is for anyone who has experienced trauma of any kind. Every trauma can be healed and overcome by applying forgiveness and love and by finding the purpose that experience served through transforming your thoughts. No matter what you've gone through when you get FLPT, you can receive healing, abundance, restoration, and deliverance. So come get FLPT HARD with me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359515875

Book preview

When She Flpt: Overcoming Suicide Through Transformed Thoughts

When She FLPT:

Overcoming Suicide Through Transformative Thoughts

Copyright © 2019 by Michelle R Jackson

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Lulu Press.

Cover photograph credit to Billy Montgomery.

No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored for retrieval or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recorded or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author Michelle R. Jackson.

ISBN 978-0-359-51587-5

First Edition

INTRODUCTION

I was 30, lost, clinically depressed, suicidal and despondent. However, I desired love, acceptance and advocacy, but I had major trust problems due to being molested by an uncle when I was nine years old and violently raped by my father from the time I was 16 to a few months shy of my 18th birthday.

I was afraid of being a victim again and always felt unworthy, unlovable and useless. The childhood sexual trauma led to my second and third suicide attempts at 16 and 17 years old.  I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression and wanted the pain to end.  I was admitted into a mental hospital twice and prescribed various antidepressants, but nothing helped. Antidepressants seemed to increase the effects of depression and thoughts of suicide.  The inner voices of excruciating pain and desire to die lingered from age 12 to 30 years old.  My final suicide attempt was a little over 16 years ago, in 2002.

After leaving my former husband in Georgia, I returned to a Chicago suburb to start over.  However, there they were the voices, the torment, the memories and feelings of despair. Those overwhelming thoughts consumed me; so, one brisk October morning, I concocted a plan.

That morning, I dropped my daughter off at school, drove to a nearby pharmacy and purchased several boxes of sleeping pills.  I returned to my mother’s apartment, called a friend to thank her for being in my life and submitted to the voices in my head. I deliberately overdosed on sleeping pills.

I was surrounded by darkness and agonizing, deafening silence all the while feeling exposed, misunderstood and slightly paranoid.  I felt like a fraud every day, afraid to be found out.  I fabricated a life in my head that never seemed to translate into my actual existence. 

Outwardly, I seemed confident as if I had the answers.  Yet, on the inside, I was a timid, frightened child who never had the opportunity to mature.  I suffered from arrested development stuck at the precipice of pain. I ceased to emotionally mature the day I was emotionally and physically violated for the first time.   I lured people into my world only to evict them when they inched their way too close to my heart.  My defenses were always up, and that, combined with my natural gift of discernment, proved to be a loud, obnoxious and tormenting way to exist.  My senses seemed heightened as I could feel the pulse of a room, detect people's most flagrant and concealed insecurities and manipulate them to feel something for me.  That was until I was no longer comfortable receiving their affection. 

It's quite the oxymoron that the very thing I longed for the most was also the thing I feared above all. I was victimized physically, mentally and sexually and I pretended not to be affected.  That was until I could no longer hide the turmoil in my soul.  It was then that my resolution became suicide.  I was convinced that everyone would be better without me. 

My mind was the most chaotic place I’d been forced to dwell.  As loud as the torment was, metaphorically, my actions created a symphony simultaneously infused with heavy metal, rock, jazz, country, gospel and pop music.  I was attempting to drown out the piercing plague of my daily reality.  I know that makes no sense as chaos cannot drown out chaos.  Somewhere in my consciousness, I thought that my actions could silence the constant chatter in my mind.  I hoped that something or someone could grant my soul peace and harmony.  I was troubled and required relief.  My husband says everyone is searching for a savior and I must agree.  I needed a savior.   So, I pretended to be the things I longed to be.  They say fake it until you make it, but I learned the hard way that acting only creates illusions.

I lived in pretense, continually wearing masks and smiling on cue to ensure everyone else’s comfort.  I seemed physically free, but I was emotionally and mentally bound.  It would take decades for me to realize that I couldn't heal from what I didn’t reveal because healing is parallel to freedom.   So, I had to learn how to address the stress of the mess that perplexed me. 

In my youth, I viewed sex as a tool used to control people both male and female.  Sex was something shameful, embarrassing and hurtful.   And those who initiated it seemed to receive satisfaction and fulfillment, but the receiver was only necessary to provide pleasure. I never really observed sex as a method of emotional exchange and connection.   It's funny because, as a child, and probably because of watching Little House on the Prairie, I understood that sex was something to be experienced only after marriage.  So, can you imagine my world after sex was forced upon and taken from me by my father?   My entire world died that day never to be seen again.   But God!

People always tell us to share our story.   But our story can be skewed by our need to be the hero.   We shouldn’t share our stories, we should share the stories.  Sometimes the story isn’t pretty and sometimes we make mistakes and hurt people.  We are not always a victim, sometimes we're the assailant.   Sharing the truth of the story will help aid others in their journey to accountability and freedom.  My story was filled with victimization and manipulation.  Sometimes I was the victim and sometimes I was the perpetrator.  I couldn’t unveil the truth of who I was until I accepted that I was emotionally and spiritually scarred.  I needed help.  But first, I needed to be real with myself. 

My journey to wholeness began with four words—Forgiveness, Love, Purpose and (Transformative) Thoughts: FLPT. From those four words came four additional revelations and manifestations: Healing, Abundance, Restoration and Deliverance: HARD.

Forgiveness

I had to forgive.   I had to forgive God, everyone who’d harmed me, and I had to forgive myself.   I blamed God.  I thought He hated me. I blamed myself because it had to be my fault, right?  Then I had to place the responsibility of the sexual assaults on those who executed them and forgive them because unforgiveness was destroying my hope and will to live. Unforgiveness is toxic! It kills parts of its owner. Forgiveness releases freedom and removes the shackles from your dreams. And it did for me.

Love

Once I was able to forgive, I was able to receive and offer love to others.   Forgiveness freed my heart to learn to trust my instincts and to want what's