Hi, I'm Jacque

New year.

New.

New.

New.

That word means so much to me right now. 1 year ago today I was in a very different place. I was fresh out of the hospital following my first suicide attempts. Everything was dark. I had no hope at all. I made plans to move in with my sister, but that was really more a safety measure than anything else. I couldn't be trusted to be alone if I was to keep on living. The thing is though that I still didn't want to live. I was trudging through day after day just existing because that's what we as humans are supposed to do. Therapy did not help. Hell, it was all I could do to convince myself to really open up to a therapist. There was no hope for me. I felt completely alone even when I was surrounded by people. I made the decision to move home because I simply couldn't stand to be away any longer. Looking at it from the outside, that probably looks like a terrible decision. But now I like to see it as the best thing I could have done. I was literally alone again. I felt like the biggest burden there ever was. I thought I was making life worse and harder for everyone I loved. In my skewed mind, one big loss would be easier for them than continually watching me suffer. I made the decision to take away their burden once and for all. I think most of you reading this know how the rest of the story goes. It's taken some time, but I now believe that everything happened the way it had to. I never would have gotten the intense help I needed if it hadn't gotten so bad. I would have eventually succeeded in doing myself in. But I lived through that night. Something or Someone bigger than me decided that there is more to my story. For a while I couldn't see why that was; I still felt useless and hopeless. But things have changed. Every night when I go to sleep, I want to wake up the next morning. I know I can make a difference in this world. I will do something meaningful. I am not a burden. My perspective shift still honestly baffles me, but I'm so grateful to be where I am now. It's cliché, but this new year really is a chance for a new me.

I so badly want to tell those who may be feeling like I felt that there is HOPE. 

It can get better.

 It won't be all sunshine and roses getting there, but the pain is worth it. 

You are worth it. 

You can begin again. 

We can fight this fight together.

We can be new.

Hi, I'm Jacque and I'm new.

The thing about Christmas.

My life has been odd since 2015, namely Christmasy parts of my life. 2 years ago, I worked with my fellow teachers to pull off a Christmas program that closed out the most amazing experience of my life. Then on a rainy morning, I packed up and headed back to the states. And I was home for Christmas.

Last December I was hospitalized for the second time in 2016. I spent a few weeks in the psych ward. I missed out on Christmas shopping. I missed out on wrapping gifts for my nephews. I missed out on making Christmas cookies with them for the first time ever. I don't remember much about that time thank to ECT, but I know I went home in time for the holiday. And I was home for Christmas.

This year is different though. I'very spent half of this year in some type of psych facility. I missed the first day of school. I missed field trips. I missed school parties. I missed so many bath times and bed time snuggles. I hate it so much. I hate knowing that my family misses me; hate missing them. And this year I won't be home for Christmas.

I'm having a very hard time with this reality. I'm missing so much! So many moments that cannot be recovered. And all because I just couldn't do it. All because my mind likes to hate on me and convince me that life isn't worth living. It feels like I'm the problem here and if I just wasn't around no one would have to be sad about me missing things, including me. I don't mean if I'd killed myself, because I have the presence of mind now to know that would have made things unfairly shitty for my family. I guess I just kind of with I never existed in the first place. Is this world actually a better place for having me in it? I have trouble believin so.

What I do believe is that there are people who love me, even though I don't know why. I believe that they deserve happiness; who am I to take that away from them in order to spare myself some pain? So here's the thing about Christmas, I'm going to miss this one, but I'm doing it for you. It sucks this year, but this is all in the hopes that I'll be around for many more Christmases to come. So for now, I'll decorate a palm tree, make cookies with my roommate, and be grateful for the Christmas that almost wasn't a thing for me.

Merry Christmas and all my love!

See Through

I tried to cover it up, tried to hide all the pain.

But when you weren't around I let my tears fall like rain.

You see through my lies; you see the real me.

Standing by me for all time, never daring to flee.

I don't understand your love and devotion;

seems as big as the sky, as deep as the ocean.

How do you feel when you see all this ruin?

To me it's as though I will never win.

You see through the laughter, the "happy", the smile;

knowing I've been broken for quite a while.

Although I'm broken I know you never see me as too much.

You're always there to comfort me; with even the slightest touch.

I'm sorry for the pain I've put you through.

Know it was never on purpose; doing this to you.

Thank you for seeing through when no one else can;

thank you for staying when you easily could have ran.

"Write about something that's see through." I love my expressive writing class because we have prompts like this one. This could be taken so very many ways; it could be literal and I could write about a window or a jar. I took it more figuratively and decided to write about seeing through me. So I guess in a way I wrote about something that's not actually see though because I think I out up a pretty good wall when I want to and not always transparent because there are things I feel like I need to hide. Meh, I do what I want. lol Anyway, this is the poem that flowed from me when I heard the prompt and I'm pretty happy with it. This poem is about my mom. No matter how good I think I am at hiding things, she can always seem to see through me. She's always saying that it seems like I'm not having a good day, even when I don't tell her that. I think that perhaps that's just the thing about moms, they just have that innate sense of feeling what their kids feel. I am so grateful for this; so grateful for the never ending love from my mom that I know not everyone gets to feel. Thank you mom for seeing through the fake me and really pushing to see me get better. Thank you for being my biggest cheerleader; thank you for giving me the world when you didn't even have it to give. You are amazing. I love you to the moon and back and a million red M&Ms! XO

On being suicidal.

I want to die.

I spend minutes, hours, and whole days plotting my demise.

I rationalize how the world would be better without me.
I see pictures in my mind; almost like gruesome crime scene photos where I am the victim.
I think up new ways to die on the daily.
 I lie in bed night after night wishing I wasn't breathing.
 I just want to be done.
I want to give up.
I am exhausted by the fight that I must fight day after day.

I convince myself that everyone who loves me is lying to me.

I am sure that I am the worst.

I know that I am a burden to everyone around me.
I am terrified of my mind.

I am a problem that needs to be solved.

There is only one solution I can see.
That solution leaves no room for a future.
That solution is putting myself 6 feet under.

This is how I feel like 90% of the time. 

These are the thoughts that own me when I fall down that rabbit hole.

This is what I'm trying to fix.

Because, honestly, I want to live.

I want to watch my niece and my nephews grow up.

I want to hear those munchkins' names on graduation day.

I want to see the world.

I want to change the world. 

I want make everyone's life better.

I want to see you smile.
I want to see me smile.
I want to know what joy truly feels like.
I want to walk in the light that went out so many years ago.

The thing is that all of that gets lost when I am cloaked in utter darkness. Nothing feels real and nothing matters, because I am ruining everything. Please don't take this as an invitation to tell me how great I am, I'm not looking for that. I'm not really looking for anything, I'm just trying to explain. I know that there are people in my life who look at me and wonder how I could ever be suicidal. My life is, admittedly, great. I am loved. I am cherished. I have everything I need. I am educated. I have held my dream job. I have had the opportunity to better the worlds of many people. I try to be there for others as much as possible. I try to give of myself. I try to appear put together. I try to be ok for all of you. The thing is though, that you just never know.

I live every day with this chasm of nothingness inside my chest and unfortunately no amount of love can fill it on the bad days. On the good days, I hear my baby boys say, "I love you" and I want nothing more than to live to hear it even one more time. On bad days, though, I can't even bring myself to so much as talk to them on the phone, because nothing matters at all; those little boys would be better off with such a mess of an aunt. My mind is a complex and frustrating place. I often tell my therapist that I feel as though I live in the middle of a tug of war; between wanting to live and wanting to die. Both sides pull at me constantly and sometimes one side or the other gets the upper hand. I think this will just always be my life.

I've come to accept the fact that the darkness is just part of me; but I've also come to know that the fact that it's there doesn't mean I have to let it win. There's a thing called Acceptance Commitment Therapy that has been absolutely revolutionary in my thinking as of late. ACT says that you don't necessarily get rid of the bad thoughts. What's important is not letting the bad thoughts take over. ACT is simply accepting the fact that you're having the thoughts and that that is OK.

Being suicidal is often something I feel guilty about; I beat myself up for wanting to do something that I know would rock the boats of more people than I can possibly imagine. Obviously this just leaves me feeling worse and wanting to die even more and it is so dangerous. But through ACT, I have realized that those thoughts will not end me unless I let them. I accept that I have those thoughts. I accept that I may never be free from those thoughts. But I also accept the fact that I have the power to let those thoughts roll on. I accept that I have the strength to climb out of the rabbit hole before I find the bottom of it. I accept the fact that even though a thought seems more than real, it may not be true. I accept the fact that my brain is sometimes an asshole and the answer is to just to say, "fuck off" and turn it off for a while.

I accept the fact the what I really really want is to live, even on the worst of days.





 Rereading this is strange for me. I was in a good place in life when I wrote this. I was still in residential treatment for my mental health and felt like I was finally making some progress in life. It was so nice to be in a bubble where all I had to focus on was getting better. I've been back in the real world for a few years now and it's not the same. It's not all sunshine and rainbows and helpful therapy and groups and living in a community that truly understands what I go through because they have been there, too. I've, unfortunately, lost touch with most of the people that I spent those 5 months with and feel alone in my struggles again. 

Mental illness is a bitch and I'm still struggling to find a foothold in life. I have since been hospitalized another 5 times. Fortunately, I have come to a point in life where I can tell when I'm letting the thoughts take over and I know to get my ass to the hospital before I do something that cannot be undone. I haven't attempted suicide in nearly 3 years and I'm proud of myself for that. I also haven't self harmed in about 4 months and I know from the past that I can keep that up for longer and I fully intend to .

At this moment though, the thoughts are starting to get the best of me again and I am in the scary part of my mind that seems to always lurk around the corner when I start to do well again. It hit me hard recently while sitting with my family and enjoying a night together. The idea of ruining their world is absolutely crushing to me, but I still have that part of me that is ready to leave this world. I hate that about myself. I feel so very selfish for thinking the things that I do.

It's now mental health awareness month and I all I hope is that my words bring some sort of strange comfort to another in knowing that you are never alone and that you can, in fact, keep going even when the fight is utterly exhausting. All I have ever wanted in life is to make a difference and help people. In my mind, I have already done that and perhaps my job on this Earth is done. I don't know why this is my thought process and why my death makes so much sense to me when everyone else thinks my life is worth saving.

All I know is that I'm still here right now. I still get up everyday and fight my biggest enemy; myself. 

I'm trying so hard to fight my mother fucker of a brain. I'm trying so hard to do this for my family. I'm still not at a place where I see the point in getting better for myself, but I can fight for the people I love. I fight for those 2 little boys that deserve to have their aunt around to see them grow up. I fight for my mom who has always worked her ass off to give me the world. I fight for my dad who loves me so well and is always there when I need him. I fight for my big sister who would fight anyone and anything for me. I fight for my step-dad who came into my life and loves me like his own, no questions asked. I fight because it's not fair to put them through the pain of just seeing me deal with these illnesses and it would be even more unfair to put them through the pain of losing a daughter/ sister/ aunt. I fight because I don't want to be just another sad story.

I'm just questioning of that fight is really worth it.

The change in me.

There's pain inside, I just can't hide.

It's stuck and I just can't seem to get away.

Please let me go, please let me out.

I'm all alone, I want to shout.

The end has come, it's done for me.

I'll go away, set you all free.

I'm so afraid; can't control it anymore. 

This world is something I just wasn't made for.

It's time to change; to trust myself.

Can't let my emotions stay up on the shelf.

I'm not alone; won't ever be.

You'very got my hand; you're guiding me.

There's light ahead; now I can see.

It's time to live; set it all free.

I'm lying to you.

Ever since I've been back in the world of the internet machine, I've been sharing things with all of you.

I shared pictures of my artwork.

I showed you the quotes that I posted at my house to try to keep some positive vibes around.

I posted pictures from family weekend.

I shared posts from To Write Love on Her Arms.

I told you that you're all making me feel very loved.

The only thing is...I'm lying to you, or at least I feel like I'm lying to you.

I'm doing that thing that we all do on social media, I'm sharing only the good stuff. I'm painting the picture that I want you to see.

In that picture I'm happy and better and everything is fine.

In that picture I never think about the fact that I think the world would be a better place without me. In that picture I don't feel alone. 

In that picture I don't feel like I'm a burden to everyone.

In that picture it's not dark as night.

In that picture smiling is not a chore.

In that picture I'm not anxious as all get out in normal situations.

In that picture it doesn't take 20 pills a day just to keep me functioning.

But that picture isn't the real one. That picture is the goal, but it's not my life right now. There are very few happy little trees in my world right now. My world right now is pretty dark. It's not as dark as it was, thankfully, but it's still pretty dark. I still fell most days like I am a burden to everyone, especially my family. It doesn't matter what anyone tells me or shows me, I feel like I'm such a burden. Much of the time I still feel as though the world would be a better place without me in it. It's been quite some time since I've felt like actually taking myself out of the world; I'm incredibly thankful for that. I'm learning lots of things to help with those thoughts, as well. I'm working to reframe my irrational thoughts into more rational ones. I'm working on using coping skills to pull myself out of the terrible thoughts so that I don't get stuck in them and just sit around and ruminate. That doesn't always work, but it's something. One thing that's been really bothering me as of late is my anxiety. It has gotten to where most of the groups that I'm supposed to go to freak me the fuck out. Luckily, I'm able to employ my coping skills such as coloring or playing with my fidget spinner when I'm having a tough time. I'm working and I'm learning and that's what matters right now. 

So I do feel like I'm lying to you by only sharing all of the good things, but honestly speaking, who really wants to know about the bad?

Fighting for my Life

Not that anyone really gives a shit, but I've been totally out of communication for about 2 months now and I thought I'd tell the world why.

You see, about 2 months ago my therapist and I came to the realization that I simply wasn't stable, which was completely true. I wasn't doing anything at all besides working; my depression had reached the point that I wouldn't get out of bed even to shower or eat. There was a constant thought in my brain that I shouldn't be alive anymore. I lost the ability to trust myself to keep myself safe from myself and my terrible thoughts. I was urged to go to the emergency room and see about getting checked into the psych ward. Seeing how wonky my brain is and how bad my suicidal ideation was, I was admitted.I spent about 2 weeks there, had some ECT (electric shock therapy) treatments, got some new meds, and was sent home.

The thing is that they never should have let me go home. I was home for one day and decided that it was time for me to be done on this earth. Long story short, my mom found me the next morning, passed out, and I was taken by ambulance back to the hospital. I woke up in the emergency room to my parents on either side of me, looking sadder than I've ever seen before. I spent another 2 weeks in the hospital. I got some more ECT treatments, had some more therapy, and was again sent on my way, being diagnosed with Major Depression, PTSD, and Borderline Personality Disorder.

I was discharged to a long term treatment facility that would hopefully help me learn coping skills and things so I could learn to be home alone again.  So I'm in southern California at a treatment center and have been for a month. My treatment team says I'll be here for AT LEAST 90 days, likely more. I can see why, because I'm still having trouble wanting to live. I'm scared to death of eventually going home because I don't trust myself to be alone with the terrible things that my brain comes up with. But I'm trying to learn what I need to in order to be able to trust myself again.

I'm trying so hard to fight my mother fucker of a brain. I'm trying so hard to do this for my family. I'm still not at a place where I see the point in getting better for myself, but I can fight for the people I love. I fight for those 2 little boys that deserve to have their aunt around to see them grow up. I fight for my mom who has always worked her ass off to give me the world. I fight for my dad who loves me so well and is always there when I need him. I fight for my big sister who would fight anyone and anything for me. I fight for my step-dad who came into my life and loves me like his own, no questions asked. I fight because it's not fair to put them through the pain of just seeing me deal with these illnesses and it would be even more unfair to put them through the pain of losing a daughter/ sister/ aunt. I fight for them and I try so hard to remember that on my really bad days.

So that's where I've been and why I've been so quiet.
Also, if anyone wants to be super cool, I love snail mail! Letters and care packages are my favorite! My address is:
Sovereign Health
Atten: Jacque Graham MH
1211 Puerta Del Sol Suite 200
San Clemente, CA 92673