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One cool February day in Austin, Texas in 2009 I was sitting in my car with my son. He had just turned three the month before and was becoming something of a handful. We were parked outside the space where my seven-year-old daughter's Tae Kwon Do class was held. She had been resistant to attending for the last several weeks. It was a big struggle to get her into her uniform and into class. There were a lot of tears and yelling involved on her part. I was exhausted by the end of these fights with her. As a result I simply didn't have the energy to either make my son behave in the viewing area or run after him on the walkway of the strip mall. I'd taken to sitting in our parked car and letting my son out of his car seat to crawl around. This was a heady treat for him, to be able to shimmy into the back cargo space or open the glove compartment. On this particular day I was looking at a Big and Easy crossword puzzle book in my lap. I wasn't solving any of the puzzles, I was just looking at it. While I looked at it I planned out what I would say to my primary care physician in order to obtain a prescription for Ambien. I'd explain I couldn't sleep more than an hour at a time and over the counter sleep aids didn't help. Warm milk didn't help. Relaxation exercises didn't help. I was hoping I could get some assistance from a prescription but it was my last choice. Later, I would complain of panic and anxiety attacks to receive some Valium or Xanax or Ativan. I wouldn't take any of the sleeping pills or the anti-anxiety medications. I'd hold onto them for awhile and continue to complain of insomnia and panic and anxiety. I'd try lots of things and take pills out of the bottles and hide them somewhere, probably in my book safe, where my husband never looked. Then, after weeks of complaining I'd take an overdose and it would all be a terrible tragedy. I could make it look like an accident. Then Scott could find a better mom for the kids and a better wife for himself. It would be fine. The families would rally around my children and my husband. The neighbors would pitch in to help with child care. In the long run, it would be better for everyone.
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