My Final Goodbye

 I guess the title is pretty misleading in a way....this is not my final goodbye, but I wish it was. I wish this was my suicide note. My heart is heavy and I just want to be done. I am sad, I am lonely, I am empty, I am terrified. No one truly cares besides my family. But are they enough to keep me here for forever? Can I hang on when I feel rejected by the rest of the world? I'm not sure I can; in fact, I'm sure I can't. I'm sure one day I will indeed be writing my final goodbye. I will lose this fight with my mind. Will you weep when I am gone? I doubt it. I will be another sad story; merely another statistic. "Why didn't she reach out?" you'll say. I have tried, and received not love nor support in return, so it's not even worth my time anymore. No one reaches in just to ask how I am. I put on my happy face and do life. So I must be ok, right? I must be smiling, laughing, and joking because I am truly filled with joy. For who could be such a great actor? But I am. I've been wearing this mask my whole life, so by now I am a pro. But that won't save me. Nothing will. Not the medication. Not the years of therapy. Not having my brain zapped in desperation. Not God. I am irreparable. There is no hope; no light. My heart is heavy and my mind is dark. I just want to be done. I want to say my goodbyes and know that those I love will be ok without me. I want them to be at peace knowing that I am no longer hurting. I don't want them to have to visit me in the hospital and watch me struggle like I do. But it's not that easy. So the tears will fall, the thoughts will tear me apart, and I will continue to stand. Not because I can, not because I am strong, certainly not because I want to; but because I must. No cry for help can ever be cried loud enough. I am alone in the deepest, darkest of pits and will never truly see the light. How long can I keep this up; this agony, this torture? How do I keep myself from writing my final goodbye?

My Story

There once was a day my world stopped;
my hope was gone, all hope was completely dropped.

July 9th, that was the night;
the night I decided to quit the fight.

I bought the biggest bottle I could find;
gave in to the demons in my mind.

I thought they would be better without me;
hopefully one day they would see.

I woke in that hospital bed;
parents right there, eyes so very red.

I couldn't explain why I wanted it to be the end;
how I saw no light around the bend.

They never asked and I never spoke;
I suppose their hearts were already broke.

What went through their minds that day;
what are the words they wanted to say?

It awkward you know;
explaining why I needed to go.

More awkward still is my persistent desire to end it all;
despite all the help, further and further I fall.

Day by day, I fight to keep my head above the water;
though I feel like I've already failed them as a daughter.

I've already given up, resigned myself to my eventual fate;
nothing will stop me, it's already too late.

I'm not saying I'm leaving you now;
I don't know when, but I know how.

It'll be in my own time, in my own way;
I become more burdensome day by day.

They tell me it not true, that it's not what I think;
it doesn't matter, my mind tells me things that keep me on the brink.

They feel so true, the thoughts when they speak;
never sunny, always dark, always bleak.

For now I'm here, I'm fighting the fight;
I press on through day and night.

I'm only here for them, I can't lie;
but one day, I'll have to say goodbye.

I don't really know why, but it feels as though that's how I must end;
but what will I leave behind, what message will I send?

I did all the things, but it won't be enough;
It's been too real, too lasting, too rough.

Please don't be scared, I'll be at peace in my mind;
finally free from the despair that I can't help but find.

When I'm gone will you see me as a coward;
one who gave up before life truly flowered?

I hope you'll understand that it wasn't the easy way;
it will the hardest decision to make that day.

But it will seem like all I can do, the only choice to make;
don't let it fool you, I don't want your heart to break.

In fact, freedom is what I hope you'll see;
You'll no longer be forced to worry about me.

For the moment, I'm here, I'm fighting for those that love me;
They'll miss me one day, but for now I'll just be.

Hold the hope for me

By now you probably know that I struggle with serious mental illness and have for several years now. In light of that, I've been wanting to write something for mental health awareness month, but I just haven't been able to find the words.

I was 15 the first time I remember wanting to be dead. At the time, I didn't want to hurt or kill myself, but I told God that I felt like it was my time to go. I guess I was wrong about that, because here I am. I'm still here after numerous suicide attempts (only 1 big one that required medical attention). I'm still here after 8 hospitalizations because the suicidal ideations got too strong. I'm still here, but I daily wish I wasn't. What I want you to understand is that there is no reason for this...my life is good. I have a job I enjoy and a supportive family who loves me more than I deserve; things are alright. The reason I think the way I do is simple, I am sick. My mind is ill and it seems after all this time that it can't be "fixed."

I used to hope for something to fix me. I hoped that the right medicine would turn off the thoughts. I diligently went to therapy each week. I spent 5 months in residential care. I let the doctors zap my brain 12 times in ECT. I sat through magnetic stimulation treatments each day for a month. Nothing has changed though; I've actually gotten significantly worse over time. Don't get me wrong, there have been glimpses of hope, they just didn't last and I don't know how to get that back.

The thing I hoped for the most for a long time was to get back the life I lead before everything went to hell. When it all hit the fan, I was about to graduate college and begin my dream job. I had to come home early from the way of life I loved and wanted to keep on living as a long as possible. Sometimes, people find out about my old life and ask why I'm not teaching anymore. The answer to that is simple; I'm scared.

The thing about living in places like I was living is that it's so much more difficult to access the resources I need just to stay alive. Finding a therapist is a joke, the doctor's office is almost primitive and I can't see making them understand what kind of medication I need and why, hospitals aren't near and I'm not even sure if they have psych wards, and the stigma is terrible. What would I do if all of my supports were suddenly gone and everything got really bad? How would I keep myself alive? I'm not sure I could and that's what's keeping me here for now...and maybe forever.

Another thing I miss about my life before is doing things. You see, I had a best friend who left when I got really bad. She didn't say I was too much to handle, but I suspect that's why she's gone. We used to do so many things together and just live a random and fun life. From pub trivia on Monday nights to Friday night wine and coloring night, we were always together and always enjoying the world around us. I miss all of that. I miss going to movies because doing so has been ruined by my social anxiety. I miss road trips to see musicals and trips across the country to go to Comic Con. I miss really living and enjoying life.

My life now consists of working and sleeping. Occasionally I'll spend time with my family, but usually I'm too tired for even that. It's not even exhaustion from working too much that does it to me; it lethargy. Exhaustion is something that you can sleep off and eventually stop felling, this is different. I can sleep all day and night and still wake up feeling like I never even slept. I am tired; all the time. I miss family dinners, baseball games, and bonding time with my nephews because I feel like I can't get out of bed no matter how hard I try. I hate this symptom of my illnesses because it keeps me from doing the things I have always loved as well as experiencing new things that life might have to offer. One piece of advice I can give you when it comes to dealing with this from your loved ones is this; don't give up.

Never stop believing that one day things will change. Keep texting. Keep calling. Keep inviting. REACH OUT! I can guarantee you that the hurting people in your life aren't going to tell you that they are struggling because they don't want to burden you. Don't let that detour you from loving on them.

Lastly, I want to ask you to stop telling people that they need to reach out because you're "always there" for them. While it may be true, we cannot understand why it would be. We see ourselves as the worst people you could ever imagine; worthy only of death Remind us of what's true to you. Remind us that you love us despite our illnesses. Remind us that our struggles don't make us less than. Remind us that we're not too far gone. Tell us about hope. Hold onto that hope that we have let slip from our hands; keep it safe for us. Trust me, when you reach in rather than telling someone to reach out, you can truly change a life. If you learn anything from mental health awareness month, let it be that.

If you've sat there and read all of that, I hope you know how truly grateful I am for your time. Thank you for letting me express myself, even when I didn't know what to say. Thank you for supporting me on my journey. Thank you for holding out hope; since I lost it long ago.

Be here, now.

They call it mindfulness; the art of learning to truly be present and appreciate where you are in the hear and now. It has been a big struggle of mine for so so long. This, I think, is probably not helped by my anxiety issues, but alas.

I have almost always been one to worry about things and blow things out of proportion before they even happen. This has been especially prevalent when comes to my mental health and the idea of getting "better." I do this thing where I don't believe that I can truly get better; but what's more, sometimes I doubt my even wanting to get better. Sounds crazy, right? But the thing is that I'm not sure what to do with feeling better anymore. I've felt so shitty and been fighting so hard just to keep from killing myself for so long, that it's like that's all I've ever known. Of course, I've known times that it wasn't the case that things, were so rough for me, but they're sometimes hard to remember. Sometimes it's hard to even remember how to function as a normal human being again. How does one maintain good hygiene, a clean home, normal eating habits, work life, social life, etc? It all just seems like so much that it still overwhelms me at times.

The thing is though, that I'm actually starting to feel better. I'm starting to feel what I think of as "normal," like me again. It's honestly a strange feeling. I'm slowly beginning to complete basic life tasks again. I'm smiling from a genuine place inside of me; laughing for real, not just to keep up the facade. Don't get me wrong, I still have my moments. The thoughts of leaving this world still cross my mind on a daily basis, but they are fleeting; nothing I'm seriously considering. The cool thing though, is that I'm thinking about the future again. I can see myself continuing on, aging past where I am now, doing things I've always wanted to do, and finding a career that I love. That hasn't happened in so long. What I'm having to learn though, is to accept all of this for what it is; to be truly present and mindful.

You see, for too long, I've ruined moments like this. Self sabotage has long been an issue of mine. I worry. I feel like this can't be real, like it's just a cruel joke. Good days will never last and I can't truly be better ever again. I focus on what I'll do when I spiral downwards again rather than being grateful for the good things that are happening in my life. This worry actually keeps me in my funk and tends to land me at the bottom of the rabbit hole that is the negative parts of my mind. I make myself worse! But it's different this time.

In talking with my psychiatrist recently, I reported that I had been feeling better, but I had no idea why. "I don't know why either, but I don't care; I'll take it," she replied.And I must say that I agree with her. I'm savoring this feeling. I'm doing things I love again rather than lying in my bed for days on end. I'm taking playing and being silly with my nephews and giving them all the time I can. I'm happy. I'm living in the present; I'm embracing it. I'm letting myself think about being more than my illnesses; letting myself dream again. And let me tell you, it feels amazing.

So long story short; be here, now. Don't live in the future, that allows for time to be over taken be anxiety. Don't live in the past, it leaves you longing for times that may never repeat themselves or hung up on all of the hard times that you've walked through. Be here, now. Laugh, smile, play; let yourself truly live and enjoy the life you're lucky to have. I know that's easier said than done and I kind of think that it's less about doing work to get there as it is just falling into these feelings. For me, it's about not letting my anxiety ruin the present by keeping me in an uncertain future, by worrying about when I'll get bad again. It's not an 'if' for me, it's a 'when' because of my illnesses and I've come to accept that. I'm learning, though, that I can face that when it comes rather than letting it ruin more than it already will. My illnesses don't have to control me all the times; sometimes I can stare them down and simply say, "not today, brain, not today." I hope you can learn to do the same.

Be here, now.

Fight On

I'm sitting here, fingers poised on the keyboard, ready to type whatever my mind might come up with; and I'm at a loss. I feel as though I don't really have the words right now, but I also feel like I need to write, need to share, need to engage in whatever community I'm considered part of. It's much like my life in general, there's a space there, a need to fill; but nothing quite does the trick. Do you know that feeling? I think the thing that I'm lacking is hope.

I've lost hope more and more as my mental illnesses have progressed; and even in times when they remain the same. It's the consistency, in fact, that gets me. The day in and day out with no changes to speak of is killer. I want to hope. I want to feel as though one day I'll feel better and stay that way. It seems though, that life keeps telling me that the staying better is just too much to ask for.

I came back from my vacation feeling absolutely on top of the world. I saw my favorite person on the planet and was reminded that I'm loved by someone who doesn't have to love me. I felt as though my ability to fight my mind had been renewed. I could do this thing. I could keep fighting. I could make positive change; because change actually felt possible.

I wasn't completely wrong. I came home and started doing things that I love again. I felt happy. Happiness, though, is fleeting. The darkness crept back in like it always seems to. Everything just felt like too much. Simple tasks became too much once again. My mind started fighting back against the progress I'd begun to make.

Let me tell you, my mind is one powerful mother fucker when it wants to bring me down. It knocks me down with the general apathy that comes with my depression, pulling the joy out of doing anything at all. Then it kicks me while I'm down by convincing me that the world would be better off with me gone. Then it keeps kicking and kicking while I stew in ideations and plans. It beats me to a pulp and I'm left to attempt to tend my wounds.

And that's why I've lost hope; things never change for me, no matter how much or how hard I try to make things change. I try to get back up only to be kicked in the gut by my own mind. *insert dramatic sigh here*

I keep trudging on though. I keep waking up day after day so that I can keep loving on my sweet baby boys who I love so very much. I keep putting one foot in front of the other so that my parents won't have to bury their daughter. I step into that ring with my mind each and every day, no matter how futile it may seem, so that my sister can talk to me on the phone rather than talking to a cold stone resting above me.

No matter how hopeless I feel, I fight on; I hope you will, too.

One Day at a Time.

Today I took a shower; today I ate a meal.
Could things be looking up; could this be real?

But, yesterday was not so good.
Yesterday I thought of ways to go; yesterday I said I would.

Today I laughed and played with my nephews.
Today I made memories I hope to never lose.

But yesterday was rough.
I've never felt weaker; never felt less tough.

Today my smile is genuine; today it's for real.
I think I can do this, I think I can deal.

But yesterday I wanted to cry.
I'll be honest, I even wanted to die.

Today I can see myself making it to the future.
Today my heart doesn't require a suture.

But yesterday I sat all alone.
I isolated and ignored my phone.

Today I feel like I'm here for a reason.
I believe I'm here for a lifetime, not just a season.

But yesterday I felt completely lost.
I wanted to be gone, no matter the cost.

Today I feel like I can fly.
It feels like there must be a twinkle in my eye.

But yesterday was not so great.
I suppose I made it though, at any rate.

Today I'll keep going, not fearing the sorrow.
I'll keep my head up, keep looking for tomorrow.

What will tomorrow bring?
I'm not sure, but to this feeling I will cling.

Tomorrow I'll get up to face another day.
I'll keep moving forward, despite what my brain might say.

I'll wake again and this mountain I'll climb.
I'll go on and on, taking it one day at a time.

I hate you; don't leave me.

There is a book on borderline personality disorder entitled "I hate you; don't leave me." I never knew until somewhat recently that the title of that book would, at times, perfectly describe my thoughts and actions.


In my last post, I wrote a poem to my favorite person, but I didn't really explain to all of you neurotypicals out there what exactly a favorite person is. The favorite person can be anyone; like a family member, friend, therapist, collegue, etc. The fun thing about it is that I've never really picked my favorite person, they've just kind of fallen into the role. For me, it's been a teacher, a couple of best friends, and now my former therapist who has become a friend. Once I have a favorite person, they become everything to me. I want to be around them all of the time; if I can't be with them, I want to be talking to them. I want to know everything about them, I want to be just like them. I take on traits that they possess and fall into being like them (we'll get to that later).


My favorite person becomes, in my mind, the only person who can support me emotionally. I must run to them in times of distress or elation; they have to know. Surely they care as much about my stuff as I care about theirs, right? They shouldn't have anything going on outside of me. After all, I don't have a whole lot going on outside of them since other people no longer really matter to me. So I pester, texting and calling over and over looking for attention that I feel like I desperately need. Attention, praise, love, etc from other people doesn't really matter to me; I need the attention of my favorite person to feel like I matter to someone in this world. When they give me that attention, they are the single greatest human on this planet; they can do absolutely no wrong. The thing happens when they can't give me the amount of attention that I feel I need.


When my favorite person is too busy to text me back, taking time for herself, or spending time with people who are not me, my brain spirals out of control. The first thing that happens is I get extremely anxious; telling myself things like, "you don't matter, she hates you, she's going to leave you forever, you deserve to be abandoned because you are the worst, etc." So I freak out and begin begging to be told that all of that isn't true; the "please tell me you don't hate me" and "please, please, please don't leave me" text start to fly even though I know that I shouldn't send them. Irrational Jacque takes over and runs with the terrible thoughts. I want to push the person away because suddenly they are the worst. They are a liar who was just putting up with me the whole time and never actually cared; I must rid myself of them before they can abandon me like everyone else has always done. Eventually I hear back, sometimes it's with a message asking me to chill out. Other times, it's just the reassurance and love that I'm looking for. And all of the sudden, a switch flips and rational Jacque is back. Then I beg for forgiveness, sending a million apology messages because I realize what I've done and I feel horrid for it. How could I have been so awful to the person that I again see as the most amazing human on the planet?


This terrible cycle is referred to as splitting. Basically, this is a thing people with bpd tend to do because we see most things in the world as black and white; people are either amazing or terrible, they love us or hate us, they're staying forever or walking away right this second, they can do no wrong or have never done right. These are things I believe even when the person's past and present actions probably don't prove what I think. There is no grey area. You can't be too busy to answer my text and NOT abandoning me forever, it just isn't possible. Makes no sense at all, right? Unfortunately for me, it makes perfect sense; it is a simple reality of life.


The thing that I hate most though isn't what this does to me; which I do hate, don't get me wrong. What I hate most is how I end up treating my person, I feel like I'm abusing them in a sense and I hate myself for that every single time it happens. I've already pushed one away, I don't want to make anyone else leave me when ultimately I act the way I do because I'm afraid of being left. I just can't figure out how to stop it, though.
Maybe one day.