{"id":21447,"date":"2026-03-11T11:10:19","date_gmt":"2026-03-11T11:10:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/gpbookstore.org\/articles\/uncategorized\/faith-brought-her-back-from-the-brink\/"},"modified":"2026-04-10T06:12:11","modified_gmt":"2026-04-10T06:12:11","slug":"faith-brought-her-back-from-the-brink","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/gpbookstore.org\/articles\/positive-living\/health-and-wellness\/coping-with-illness\/faith-brought-her-back-from-the-brink\/","title":{"rendered":"Faith Brought Her Back from the Brink"},"content":{"rendered":"

Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the light. My mind was so foggy. Where am I?<\/em> This bricklike bed wasn\u2019t mine. I tried to lift my arms. My wrists. They were strapped to the bed frame. Dear God, what have I done?<\/em> A nurse came in. She took my hand and undid the straps.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re in the hospital,\u201d she said gently. \u201cYou made an attempt on your life.\u201d<\/p>\n

A panicky recollection stirred inside me. I remembered swallowing a handful of sleeping pills. The phone suddenly ringing. A girlfriend. My words coming out in a confused garble, her saying she was calling 911.<\/p>\n

\u201cBaby, you\u2019re too young to be tired of living,\u201d the nurse continued. \u201cBut we\u2019re going to take good care of you and you\u2019re going to get better.\u201d She squeezed my hand. \u201cI\u2019ll be back in a bit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her words stuck with me. What was it I had to live for? I\u2019d struggled all my life to find…what? Happiness? Acceptance? Love? At 25, I was washed up, my brief chart-topping career as an R & B singer over.<\/p>\n

But the emptiness I felt went deeper than that. I wondered: Does anyone really care whether I live or die? Do I?<\/em><\/p>\n

The men I\u2019d dated, the two women I\u2019d sung with in Sisters With Voices, our manager, the relatives I\u2019d been shuffled off to as a teenager, all had crushed me in a way that seemed irreversible. Maybe I was the problem.<\/p>\n

The one person\u2014Eddie\u2014who I\u2019d thought might be different I hadn\u2019t even gone out with, only talked to for a short period on the phone long ago. Yet for some reason I\u2019d never forgotten him. Too late now<\/em>, I told myself.<\/p>\n

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. My brother Wayne rushed in. \u201cI came as soon as I heard,\u201d he said. He touched my arm. \u201cYou look just like Mommy…\u201d His voice trailed off.<\/p>\n

Our mother died when I was 14, her last years bedridden, her once strong, beautiful body slowly wasting away. There was no one to care for her in our tiny apartment except for my three older brothers and me. We used to take turns skipping school to be with her.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t ever lose faith,\u201d she whispered to me one afternoon. All she\u2019d ever known was grinding poverty, abuse and disappointment. So many nights she went hungry so we\u2019d have a few more bites of food.<\/p>\n

We lived in Brooklyn, New York\u2019s tough Bed-Stuy neighborhood. But she\u2019d done everything she could to shield us from harm, even if it meant constant beatings from our stepfather.<\/p>\n

After she died my brothers and I were split up among relatives. All I wanted was to escape my life. A year out of high school, I heard about two women looking to start a singing group. Our first album sold three million copies. I thought I\u2019d found my ticket out.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m so sorry,\u201d Wayne said. \u201cThey said I couldn\u2019t stay long. Why didn\u2019t you tell me you were going through something? I wish there was more I could do.\u201d He gave me a gentle hug and left.<\/p>\n

Fame couldn\u2019t fill the emptiness. There was constant drama with the other girls. I tried to find comfort from my boyfriends. But I wasn\u2019t much better than Mommy at picking men.<\/p>\n

I dated the last guy for nearly three years. I thought he\u2019d change his ways if I could just show him how much I needed him. But I couldn\u2019t hold him tight enough to keep him from straying.<\/p>\n

One Christmas, after we\u2019d been dating about a year, we went to Orlando, Florida. We dropped by a mall one evening. I turned to look at a dress and when I looked back he was gone. Unbelievable! I called his cell. Straight to voicemail.<\/p>\n

I felt a tap on my shoulder and whirled around. \u201cWhere were…\u201d I started to snap at him. But it was just two young guys.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I get your autograph?\u201d the taller one said, holding out a pen. \u201cMy name\u2019s Eddie and I\u2019m a huge fan.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d I said. I took the pen and scribbled my name on his shopping bag, barely looking up before they melted into the crowd of holiday shoppers.<\/p>\n

My boyfriend resurfaced an hour later. \u201cWhat?\u201d he said when I pressed him on his disappearance. \u201cDo I have to get your permission to breathe?\u201d That angry tone I\u2019d heard many times before. But I felt trapped. I couldn\u2019t bear the thought of being alone.<\/p>\n

Things only got worse in the next year. I slipped into a depression. Every day seemed a struggle, another fight with the Sisters, our CD sales in decline.<\/p>\n

One cold December night about a year after the mall incident a girlfriend called. \u201cA bunch of us are going out,\u201d she said. \u201cCome with us. It\u2019ll do you good.\u201d<\/p>\n

But the music at the trendy jazz club couldn\u2019t lift my spirits. I was about to go home when my friend spotted a group of tall, handsome men across the room. \u201cCome on,\u201d she whispered. She dragged me to their table.<\/p>\n

One of the men saw us coming and jumped up from his chair to greet us. \u201cHi, I\u2019m Eddie George,\u201d he said. \u201cYou signed an autograph for me…last year at The Florida Mall. I was there playing in the Citrus Bowl.\u201d<\/p>\n

The what? A Citrus Bowl? I smiled without knowing what I was smiling about. I felt myself nodding, but…those eyes. So kind. Those dimples. I would have remembered meeting him, right?<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what brings you to New York?\u201d I finally managed to get out. For some reason his buddies started hooting and hollering at the question.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t mind them,\u201d he said. \u201cWe\u2019re just here celebrating. I won the Heisman Trophy today.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWow! Congratulations,\u201d I told him, but I thought, The Heisman what?<\/em><\/p>\n

We exchanged numbers and I went home, never expecting him to call. I\u2019d just switched off the news when the phone rang. \u201cI hope I\u2019m not calling too late,\u201d a warm voice on the other end said.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d never met anyone so easy to talk with. He told me he\u2019d been born into a troubled home too, his mother and father divorced when he was five. Sent to a military academy when he was a teen. That and his strong faith had kept him on the straight and narrow.<\/p>\n

Mostly, though, he wanted to know about me. He never interrupted, never sounded bored. He made me laugh. I couldn\u2019t remember the last time I\u2019d laughed like that.<\/p>\n

I looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. \u201cI\u2019d love to see you again sometime,\u201d Eddie said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat sounds…\u201d I stopped. My boyfriend. We\u2019d been together for nearly two years. I wanted to believe it could work for us. Eddie was nice, but I barely knew him. “The thing is…” I bit down hard on my lip. “I’m in a relationship. And, well, now’s just not a good time.”<\/p>\n

That was the last I heard from Eddie. I\u2019d heard he\u2019d gone on to play football for the Tennessee Titans. I wondered if he ever thought about me.<\/p>\n

I got up the nerve to call him once\u2014by then my relationship was down the drain\u2014but a recording said the number had been changed. My worst fear had come to pass\u2014I was alone. I had no reason to live.<\/p>\n

Now I stared at the walls of my hospital room. Why had I been spared?<\/p>\n

I recovered from my suicide attempt slowly\u2014physically, at least. Emotionally I\u2019d never been lower. Late one evening, my hospital room quiet, I closed my eyes, desperately wanting to sleep. But my mind wouldn\u2019t let go.<\/p>\n

All at once I heard a voice, crystal clear, ask, \u201cWhy don\u2019t you love yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n

Great, <\/em>I thought, now I\u2019m hearing things. <\/em>But the question nagged at me. I thought back over my life, my abusive stepfather, those who said I was ugly and worthless, the boyfriends who cheated on me, the manager who said I wasn\u2019t that talented.<\/p>\n

All my life I\u2019d seen myself through the eyes of people whose vision was negative, toxic. I believed it all.<\/p>\n

Then a voice, more powerful than the first, said: Let me help.<\/em><\/p>\n

Deep inside I understood where the voice came from. I\u2019d been raised to love God. But I couldn\u2019t accept that God loved me more than I loved myself.<\/p>\n

Now though I felt an overpowering love, waves of warmth rushing over me, soothing me, the comfort I\u2019d dreamed of. God reaching out, folding me into his arms. But even as I marveled at his presence, I worried. I didn\u2019t deserve this. I\u2019d tried to end my life.<\/p>\n

Lord, please forgive me.<\/em><\/p>\n

I reached over and pulled a Bible from the nightstand next to my bed, started reading. \u201cIn the beginning…\u201d<\/p>\n

Eventually I was released from the hospital. I found a church and met Minister Baize. \u201cHoney, just focus on being good to yourself and let God do the rest,\u201d she told me.<\/p>\n

I prayed and read the Bible daily. It was <\/em>amazing how much less stress I felt. I learned to like my own company, the joys of a hot bath and curling up with a good book. But I wondered if it would somehow all go away, like fame and boyfriends and love.<\/p>\n

Months went by quietly. The Sisters went their separate ways. I\u2019d sworn off dating. I couldn\u2019t afford any distractions. Here and there I picked up some modeling jobs to pay the bills. That was enough excitement for now.<\/p>\n

It was February, NBA All-Star Game weekend in New York. I\u2019d been asked to model a new line of women\u2019s wear for music impresario Russell Simmons\u2019s latest fashion show.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d done my one turn up and down the runway. I was waiting for it to end so I could go home and relax and do my Bible reading. Thirsty, I walked to the bar and ordered a glass of cranberry juice. \u201cMake that two,\u201d a voice said behind me. \u201cAnd give me the check.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned. \u201cThanks, but…\u201d And there he was. Eddie. \u201cWhat…I mean…how…\u201d My brain couldn\u2019t seem to engage.<\/p>\n

He laughed. \u201cIt\u2019s great seeing you too. You were wonderful in the show. Listen, I\u2019m here for the weekend. Would you like to meet for lunch tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019d be great,\u201d I managed to say.<\/p>\n

At the restaurant it was like we\u2019d never been apart. We talked for hours, occasionally interrupted by a fan wanting his autograph. It was funny. Now he was the star, not that I knew much about football.<\/p>\n

All I could think about was how God had brought us together three times. He\u2019d been watching over me all along.<\/p>\n

Eddie and I were married eight years ago. Have I finally found true love? I would say yes. I had to find something else first, though. I had to find myself, the person I was always meant to be.<\/p>\n

Watch this Interview with the Authors<\/a> as Tamara and Eddie George discuss their book, Married for Real: Building a Loving, Powerful Life Together<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Download your FREE ebook, True Inspirational Stories: 9 Real Life Stories of Hope & Faith<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the light. My mind was so foggy. Where am I? This bricklike bed wasn\u2019t mine. I tried to lift my arms. My wrists. They were strapped to the bed frame. Dear God, what have I done? A nurse came in. 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