For those of you who have been praying for Jocelyn, here is her last update. I told her that I was re-posting her blogs on mine. The last time I checked there were over 300 reads to her last post. I told her that people around the world were praying.
This journey with her has been hard. I cannot understand mental illness. I cannot understand self harm. I can understand wanting to go “home”. We are called to fight the good fight. In any battle, some of the good die. Some are wounded. None are ever the same.
Thank you for praying for Jocelyn. Let’s stand together for a miracle.
Living Like You’re Leaving
There are two ways that offer me the option of leaving right now. One, is suicide. Two, is treatment. I feel like I only have two options. I will either die or go to a hospital. Ironically, living like you’re going into treatment is very similar to living like you want to die.
You see, there are two ways to live like you want to die. In Option A, you do reckless things like driving drunk or having unprotected sex with strangers or shooting heroin. That’s not what I’m going to be referring to, so if that’s what you came for, sorry. I’m not about that life. I’m more about Option B. In Option B, you do things like hugging your friends and family more often or saying goodbye or giving people things or hanging out with people for the last time. This is because there’s hope. Yes, there is hope in wanting to die. There’s hope in an escape. There’s hope in the idea that maybe the next time I try to cross the street, a car will come. There’s hope that maybe today will be the day that I cut too deep. But most importantly, there’s hope that when I’m gone, things will be okay.
I am in the bizarre position of knowing that I’m about to go to inpatient. This provides the equally unique opportunity for me to “get my affairs in order”. This is pretty much the same as getting things in order when you want to die. You give everyone hugs, you say goodbye to people, you exchange things with people to remind you of each other, you hang out with people for the “last time”. There’s also hope in going to treatment, even though I can’t see it a lot of the time. There’s hope that maybe this place will really help me. There’s hope that I’ll get connected with wonderful people. And most importantly, there’s hope that when I’m gone, things will be okay.
Living like you’re leaving puts a lot of things into perspective. It helps you realize who would do anything for you, who you’re going to miss the most, and who to use as your inspirations.