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!

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.