Jane: A Case Study in Mental Health

Trigger warnings: Suicide, Self Harm, Substance Abuse, Mental Health.---

I am Jane. Self medicated, thirty something, trying to understand what the hell is going on with my mind. I take a slow, calming, deep breath in and out. I think I consumed a bit too much to drink this time, but I really don't feel right. The therapists- they tell me I'm ok, I'm fine- I'm not. I repeat the words to trudge through each appointment with every therapist that tries to tell me I can persevere and push through these thoughts. They don't listen anyway, so I always give them the performance of a lifetime. You've cured me doc! I'm saved! Hallelujah, it's a freaking miracle. Then I pay the ridiculous copay at the desk where the receptionist looks like she wants to probably join me up here on this underwhelming bridge so that we can plummet to our deaths together. For months I have all but begged for help in trying to fix my mind but that thing's broken and no one seems to think I'm unwell enough to warrant more help. I'm excellent at- what do they call it? Masking I think. I'm just ok enough to know I'm not ok. Teetering on the edge of insanity and now on the edge of this bridge. Ha, isn't that completely hilarious? It's utterly hysterical if you ask me.

I'm currently standing on the outside of the swing bridge, in the run down city that has all but ignored my measly existence. My knuckles are gripped so hard that my sweaty fingers have turned a crisp, snowy, shade of white. I don't know what happened. I know I don't belong here. I don't want to live, yet I don't think that I want to die even though I feel it in my soul that it's time to go. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm surrounded by everyone and simultaneously more alone than I've ever been. It's completely stifling. I'm rambling in my mind trying to justify a reason to stay.

The wind is rough today, brushing on my cheeks almost like she's urging me to let go, to be free. I might. If I let go, will I regret it or will I feel peace? I work so hard but I have nothing to show for it. I have no happiness. I have bills, and debt, and sadness, and loneliness. And I'm just so tired. No one is out here with me, on the bridge, on the edge. I'm alone, making life or death decisions on a railing of fucking bridge. I shouldn't have drank as much as I did. I just need someone to tell me to stay. I need someone to grab me by my hand and mean it when they tell me it's worth me staying. Not the pseudo sympathetic bullshit they spew on the internet. "Stay!", "Life is worth it!", "You belong here!", "I can talk if you want to!". None of them truly mean it. It empty promises built on lies and guilt they feel for their own current abandonment.

I feel a soft, warm, drop land and caress my cheek dripping as it spills down to my chin. The sun is about to come up and I am on the verge of emptying the entire contents of my stomach into the river below. To be honest, I'm not certain if that is stemming from the alcohol or the overwhelming emotion this decision is placing on me. The sunrise is beautiful even with the clouds carrying the coming rain. It's as serene as it is chaotic. One more deep breath. Now my head is pounding, however it doesn't matter. I don't know why I chose to end my life here in this way. I'm actually quite terrified of drowning. Maybe there's something poetic in it about conquering a final fear before death. Will that even matter though? Will I crash into the river so hard my bones snap on impact and I'll just be gone? Or will I have to swim, fight the current and gasp for air not knowing if each breath will be my last? I know my body will try to fight. She will continue to betray me to the bitter end. Jesus, I don't belong here. Why is nothing pulling me through this? I've prayed. I've called out to God, made promises that if I could get through it I would do better. I choke on my tears. I can't breathe, like I'm suffocating in open air.

The rain is coming down faster now. It's getting slippery and I'm having a hard time holding on to the railing. I adjust my grip and try to turn my body to face out towards the river but that proves to be too much. This is the position I will stay in until that final moment. I tilt my head back, looking up at the sky as it pours the warm, large drops onto my face. The rain is blending with my tears and what little mascara is probably left on my ridiculous face. Another deep breath in, and out. The time has finally come. I think that I'm ready to acknowledge that I don't belong here. I've given all that I can in this lifetime. If I don't do it now I'll continue to overthink the details and I will surely lose my nerve. I'm sobering up by the minute and if someone sees me, and tries to stop me I know I'll back out. I can't do anything right. I will do this right. They will all miss me and feel badly for not helping me when I needed it. They can live with that guilt and shame, not me. I'm finally going to be free to figure out what comes next. If there's pain, it will be temporary but then I will be gone.

It's pouring rain now. My clothes are soaked and I'm chilled down to my bones. The sky herself is pushing me to jump, dumping water to loosen my grip and blur my vision making it all but impossible to hold on much longer. What I can see of the sunrise through my wet lashes is stunning. An apology from God maybe, a last moments effort to get me to reconsider this ending? It's ok though I know that I don't belong here and I don't have to fight to be here anymore. What a shame.

I let go and lean back into the nothingness.

I'm free.