Dear favorite person...

I have to fight for myself, you tell me again and again.
But, I lost the will; it's been gone since I don't know when.


I can't even function, barely making it through the days.
How the hell do you expect me to simply walk out of this haze?


No will to eat, no energy to even shower;
longing to sleep my life away hour by hour.


But even in bed I can't hide, I can't find a break;
I toss and I turn, my brain fighting to keep me awake.


You say it's me, I don't want to get better;
as though I have some control, like I hold the key to the fetter.


It's not a lack of want, but the loss of hope;
I'm sitting at rock bottom, clinging desperately to the end of my rope.


You tell me you feel like a broken record, saying it all like you have before;
But I can't do what you ask of me, it's so hard, such a daunting chore.


"You know what to do, you've learned all the things," you like to remind me, as though I don't know.
I can't even think, can't even move; how can I change, how can I grow?


Nothing seems to work, feels like I've tried it all;
now I'm left here helpless, feeling so weak and so small.


I feel like I'm losing this battle with my brain;
standing alone, watching my life slip down the drain.


I'd take even a rest, just a small reprieve;
maybe then in myself I could believe.


But right now I can't do that; right now I need you.
Please tell me it's all a lie, remind me what's true.


Tell me you love me, tell me I matter;
please don't walk away, don't get lost in the scatter.


Can you sit with me in silence? Can you hold me while I cry?
It will never make sense to you so don't even try.


Just be there and make it known.
Stay here beside me, unmoving like stone.


I know it's not easy, the holding my hand;
but with your help, I feel I can stand.


I'm not giving up just yet, more storms I will weather.
But, please, I beg you, can we do this together?

White walls and padded rooms...

I love my job, I love it so so so much. I love it so much that I happily worked 103 hours during my first pay period. And did I tell you I got a cat? I love my Maxie cat and the companionship she provides for me. So, life has truly been great lately. I've had several breakfast and lunch dates with my parents, been seeing my therapists, and been taking my medications as I ought to be. Unfortunately, my brain hates me....

March 6, 2018
I was doing my nightly duty of counting medications at work and all of the sudden a thought popped into my head, "I could slip a few of these from each bottle and no one would ever notice...I could just take them all when I get home in the morning and wash them down with a healthy serving of alcohol and it would all finally be over." This thought nagged and nagged at me throughout the remainder of my task.

March 7, 2018
Same shit, day 2.

March 8, 2018
Again the thoughts tugged at my brain and wouldn't go away. That morning I had a therapist appointment as I sat in her chair I heard myself say, " I'm done, I just can't do it anymore. I literally do not have it in me to do this for the rest of my life, I can't." I was terrified of the words that were spilling from my mouth. Terrified because I can't seem to control the way these thoughts come in and overtake me. Terrified because I was no longer scared of the thoughts, I was starting to see their validity. "Jacque, I won't send you to the hospital tonight, I think you're alright enough to stay home, but I'm either sending your mom or a police officer to check up on you tonight, you choose which it will be" were the words I got in response. My mother checked on me as I slept the day away as per usual since I had worked all night, I appeared fine because, after all, I was just sleeping peacefully.

Let's fast forward just a couple of days here...

March 11, 2018 (exactly 2 months after my return from my long term treatment program in California)
I had made up my mind. I wasn't going to steal pills from work, but I would get some somewhere to combine with those I already had at home and I was, once again, going to try to end it all. I like to ignore the fact that like 98% of suicide attempts don't actually end in death and think that may, just maybe I'll be in the 2%. My mother was set to be gone for a night on Tuesday to pick up my nephews from my sister, thus there would be no one in town to check up on me. "That's my chance," I thought as I ran through various options for plans in my head. I fell asleep, secure in the knowledge that I wouldn't have to fight myself for much longer. I woke up a few hours later to a text from my friend/ former therapist from California telling me that she was going to check in with me later in the day because she could tell from my texts that something was wrong. At first I told her she didn't have to do that, that I was fine...but later I sent another text saying that the thing that was wrong was that I probably wouldn't be alive after a few days. I thanked her for what she had done to try to help me and said goodbye. I only did this because I, mistakenly, thought that she didn't have phone numbers for my family and surely couldn't do anything about anything from across the country. Needless the say, my phone rang moments later, "what's going on Jacque?" I basically told her that I just didn't know anymore, that it all had come on so suddenly and I felt like this was going to be a cycle for the rest of my life; a cycle I could never break unless I took myself out of the equation. After some therapizing, the ultimatum came, "Jacque you either get to a hospital on your own of I'm calling your parents to take you there." Turns out she still had their numbers and actually could do something from across the country....so I called my mom.
My mom took me to the ER where they decided that I needed to be admitted for inpatient psychiatric care...again. Round 6 for those of you who are counting. Unfortunately they couldn't find a bed for me in town so I was sent to a hospital in Osage Beach. It was a rough night at the ER as I had worked all night and was basically running on zero sleep and trying hard to stay awake for the various tests and questionnaires they had for me. In the wee hours of the morning, I was loaded into an ambulance, we arrived at the other hospital around 4 am. I spent the next 8 days in that hospital having 3 different doctors talk to me, evaluate my situation, and tinker with my medications. (And no, the hospital didn't ACTUALLY have white walls and padded rooms, I just liked that for a title lol)

March 20, 2018
Now here I sit at my mom's house, which will eventually become my house too. The decision was made that right now I'm just still not really safe living on my own. So they're going to build me my own room here. In the mean time, modifications must be made like me keeping only enough pills for a week, spending more of my awake time with my family, and going to therapy more than once a week. Let me tell you that my opinion of all of this is that it sucks. I have been on my own for nearly 10 years now and moving back in with my parents feels almost childish. I don't want to have to make these decisions. I don't want to feel like I can't do things on my own. But I also don't want to do something stupid because my brain got the better of me, and I know this is the best way to keep myself safe; so that's what's going to happen.

For now, I'm stable. I would like to say I'm all better, but I just don't think that's a thing I will ever have the good fortune to be able to say. I'm still coming to terms with this, because it seems so vastly cruel and unfair that I should have to live with a brain that is near constantly trying to kill me, even in the happiest of times. But whatever. Mostly, I'm thankful right now. Thankful for good therapists and good friends who love me even though I couldn't tell you why, thankful for a family that has never left my side through my many storm, and thankful that I'm still here to tell you this story. May I be able to say that for many years to come.

I'll see you tomorrow.

All things good and holy...

Once upon a time, my life revolved around my religion. I was that girl with Bible verses tattooed on me. My Facebook posts were regularly verses or biblical words of encouragement. I went to church every Sunday. I attended youth group until I was old enough to be a sponsor, which I did. I went on mission trips, I worked at a church camp, and I was part of a campus ministry at my university. I talked the talk and did my best to walk the walk. So I’m tattooed and I swear and sometimes enjoy an adult beverage? My God doesn’t condemn for that. I’ve always tried to do my best and love people like they ought to be loved.

Anyway, as you may or may not know, I began struggling with depression at the age of 15. A few things happened around that time; namely the deaths of my 7 year old cousin and a fellow student from my school. I really began to question God at that point. If He did exist, I couldn’t see how He could be at all good. I mean, how could He let 2 such young people die? How could He let me struggle the way I was for no reason? It just didn’t seem right. It was pretty dark for quite some time. Later though, I found solace in the idea of God. I found comfort in the idea of always being loved and important. And I was perfectly happy that way for several years. My depression went up and down over the years, but never got to be too much for me to handle. Until it did.

April 2015, everything was going right in my life. I was doing all of the things I told you about earlier, walking the good Christian walk. I was just about to graduate from the Honor’s College at my university and had secured my dream job. Something wasn’t right, though. I couldn’t quite place my finger on it, but everything started slipping. My life just wasn’t in my control anymore. I’ll spare you the details of the story, since you’ve probably already read it in the past. I sought solace in God the way I had when I was younger…but I found nothing. I found emptiness, loneliness, and even more darkness. I became angry with God. I couldn’t see how a God who was supposed to be loving and good would let me live in such darkness. I walked away from the church. I didn’t speak to anyone and no one made any attempt to contact me for about 3 months. When they did try, I wrote them off completely, saying it had been too long and I was too deeply hurt. And that was that.

I was no longer part of the church. I was angry at God. I felt hurt by God. I felt unloved by the God that was supposed to love us all as His children. I had been abandoned. Then I tried to kill myself. Obviously that didn’t work and some say there’s a reason for that. Some say that I was saved by something greater than all of us because I still have more to do on this Earth. I don’t know about that. What I do know is that I have come to a place of acceptance with God. I believe in God, I don’t think this Earth could exist in its wonderfully complex state without an intelligent designer. But I still have trouble believing that God loves us as much as I was always taught. I mean, how could I be loved so much and left to suffer for long and so deeply?

Here’s what I’ve come to accept though, God is real. That’s about all I know at this point. Do I feel love from God? Not really. What I do finally feel though is a sense of love from and for myself. And I think that’s the key. It’s not about finding the Divine on the outside. In my understanding of things, the Divine is in each of us and that’s what matters. I have found that piece of the divine within myself. There is a part of me that knows peace and love and I think I’ve discovered that part. It’s been through yoga and meditation and energy work and opening my mind up to finding God in other things and places that I’ve discovered this part of me. So maybe my style looks a little different these days. Maybe you won’t see me in a church or see Bible verses on my Facebook wall. What you will see from me, though, is love. I will love people, because that’s really all we can do in this life. I will love myself because, since we’re all one, I can’t love you unless I love myself first. So while loving me isn’t my strength, I’ll do so because I want to be better able to love you and the rest of the world. So maybe I do yoga and meditate and play around with healing crystals, but those things don’t make me any less of a believer than you or anyone else. Those things just mean I find God in a different place than you do. I find Him in little things, I find Him in the energy that makes up each of us, in the silence of meditation, in the strength of my body in a yoga pose, and in the vibration of a crystal. I find God in everything and everyone. Long story short, I’m not religious anymore. I subscribe to no religion; I subscribe only to love, that’s what truly matters in this world.

“This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple. The philosophy is kindness.” (Dalai Lama)

Pull the trigger

I spent 6 months away from home (roughly 1 month in the hospital and 5 months in a treatment center). I learned so much while I was away and I changed a great deal. I went from constantly wanting nothing more than to die to that popping up only occasionally to it popping up almost never. Don't get me wrong, the thoughts still enter my head from time to time. In fact, I just had a bit of a rough patch this weekend. You see, the thing that I knew, but didn't realize would have such a profound effect, was that I was basically in a bubble while I was in treatment. I had people to remind me to take my medicine every morning. If I was having a really rough time and needed to talk, I had access to a therapist at the push of a button or by simply walking down the hall if it was the right time of day. Everything was new and different there. I was far from home and my past and the memories of the darkest times of my life. Upon returning home though, everything came rushing back in like the tide. I was right back in the place where I tried to kill myself, alone again. I am surrounded by things like the store where I bought the pills I swallowed that night and I'm still not sure how to handle it. It doesn't seem rational to other people, but I have trouble even driving by the place. Over the weekend, I had to sit outside of said store while my sister ran in, unsure of why I refused to get out of the car. I started to have a panic attack and didn't regain normal breathing until we'd made it back home. Can I tell you how much I hate this? It seems so silly that something like a store can almost completely shut me down, can make me feel like I'm a failure because I'm having a panic attack and flashes of all the reasons I shouldn't be alive again. I lay in my apartment each night and wonder about that morning, wonder what it was like when the paramedics broke down my door and found me there. I flash back to that ultimate decision and the actions that followed. I often get very upset by this, so it's good that it only happens at night and I can sleep it off.

In the therapy world, things that set off these flashbacks, thoughts, and feelings are called triggers, and boy have I been inundated with triggers since I came back. It's like everything suddenly reminds me of all of the darkness I lived in for so long. Sometimes, it's a stretch, but my mind makes the connections to bring me crashing back into the past. I'm working on dealing with my triggers and learning how to live with them. The reality of the situation, I know, is that these things aren't simply going to go away. Even if I change my whole life, there will be things that pop up that trigger me. That's forever for me. What I'm focusing on is not letting that control me. For now, it means not shopping at a certain place, spending the majority of each evening at my mom's, and not having anything I could hurt myself with in my apartment. Sure this is mildly annoying at times, like when I need a kitchen knife because I'm cooking, but the annoyance is worth it until I feel more secure in my ability to face my triggers without giving in to them. Right now, all I've got is today. That's what I have to focus on, making it successfully to the end of the day. And, boy, does it feel like an accomplishment making it through each day! I still have lots of help from my family and my amazing therapist/life coach or whatever you want to call her, and I know that I will need that for quite some time, and that's something I'm learning to be ok with. No one can do this life thing alone, so even though it's tough for me to lean on others, I'm doing it.

I am surrounded by triggers and tough stuff here, but I'm still making life happen. For me, it's all about practicing mindfulness and staying in whatever moment I'm in. Letting myself drift into the past is dangerous territory and the future is so big that it scares me. But here and now, I am in control and I am safe and I can handle things. Remembering that keeps me moving forward and still looking up, even when I take a few steps back. I'm doing this thing. I'm hanging in there. I know I'm not alone. I'm not giving up ever again.

I'm both happy and sad...and that's ok.

"So this is my life and I want you to know that I'm both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be." (The perks of Being a Wallflower)
I used to read this quote and kind of wallow in it. I read it as saying that I was always somewhat sad, no matter what. Even on the brightest, sunniest, and best of days, I was sad. I appreciated that a book actually got that. Charlie felt like I felt. Charlie had to be in a psych ward, just like me. Even if it was just in a work of fiction, I wasn't alone in how I felt. The thing is though, that I was always trying to figure out why I felt that way. Why me? What did I do to deserve to always feel sad? I've come to the conclusion that "why" is the most dangerous question I can ask, at least for big things in life such as this. There are 2 simple reasons for this: there is no one on this earth who can actually tell me why and even if there was, the answer would never satisfy me. I would always walk away feeling frustrated. And that's where I would stay. I would ruminate on the frustration until I eventually spiraled out of control, ending up at the bottom of that damned rabbit hole. Over the past several months, though, I have had a drastic shift in perspective. I have challenged myself to stop asking "why" and it is so freeing. (Not so) Simple acceptance brings so much more peace to my life.

I still love the Perks quote as it still resonates deeply with me. I think now I would just reword it a tiny bit..."I'm both happy and sad and that means I'm alive and it's amazing." The cool thing is that I am both happy and sad, but I now know how to make that ok. I've learned that feeling that sad isn't something to be ashamed of and it doesn't have to take over my life. I can acknowledge the sad, feel it, then let it pass by without clinging to it. And the happy, oh man, the happy. I know to be mindful and soak up as much as I can from each moment while I'm in it. I know to give myself over to the happiness even if that means I'm singing and dancing and acting a fool in front of everyone (that's exceedingly rare, btw). If it makes me happy, then who cares? I don't anymore.

Learning to live life again is cool. Learning to see the world with fresh eyes is truly awe inspiring. Friends, I want you to take a few things from reading this: you are NEVER alone, no matter how you feel....please never let your mind convince you otherwise; it's ok to feel sad, but don't allow it to set up shop in your mind; stop asking why, it will free you like you would never believe; embrace the happy moments as long as possible.

So this is life and I want you to know that I hope you're both happy and sad and that means you're really alive. And that, my loves, is the most amazing feeling of all.

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!