For Ryan, Matt & Mark

I never thought it would take someone else’s suicide for me to understand what it’s like for the people around them. I never thought I’d be writing this post either.

I didn’t know Daniel and I won’t pretend like I did, but I was a fan of Cyndago and through watching their work, I felt like I had some kind of connection. Cyndago made me happy, they could make me laugh when no one else could and for that I thank you.

I, like many others, was introduced to Cyndago through Markiplier. From the first video I watched, I was hooked. The quirky atmosphere that radiated off of Ryan and Daniel and the some what dark sense of humour was calling my name from when I first clicked on the video, I loved it. From that moment I would follow Cyndago on all social media possible and eagerly await for the next update, unfortunately the most recent one I came across has sent a numbness through my body and I physically feel cold.

I am someone who has been on the edge of suicide and I have attempted to end my life multiple times. As I wrote in a previous post, a week ago today I was taken to hospital because I had taken an overdose with the sole intention of death. Throughout the night, I was constantly being hooked up to machines to have my vital signs checked and attached to a drip to flush out everything I had taken, by the time I had fully regained conciousness I was taken to a unit for those who were also suffering with mental illness and the urge to end it all.
Though I don’t and never will know what drove Daniel to suicide, there is a part of me that understands. I don’t know what it is exactly and I find it incredibly confusing, but whatever it is, I just hope that Daniel is now at peace after ending his fight with whatever demons he was facing.

After finding out this awful news, I’ve been forced to understand what it must feel like for those effected by someone else’s suicide. I am not going to lie, but it fills me with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. I have absolutely no idea how family and friends of Daniel must be feeling right now, but even as someone who doesn’t personally know Daniel, wasn’t even known by him other than one of the many fans of Cyndago and Mark, the feeling I’m currently trying to come to terms with is terrible and I can only imagine it must be unbearable for those who were close to him.

To Ryan, Matt and Mark,
I don’t know whether you will ever see this post, but I want you all to know that I am sending all of my love and sympathies your way. I know you will feel like it was your fault, like you could have done something to stop it, but you mustn’t. I could never understand what you guys are going through right now, and I’m sure you’re getting ‘words of wisdom’ from people left, right and centre, but you guys were his friends, his brothers and from seeing what you guys all created together, you all made him incredibly happy and I highly doubt he would want you guys to feel like anything was your fault.
From someone who has attempted suicide and has come so close to it being ‘successful’, I just want to say this.
I know I didn’t know Daniel, so I couldn’t possibly know his thoughts at the time, so I am just going by how my thoughts were at the time I felt completely non-existent, the time that I feel as though I can relate to Daniel.
I wanted all my friends and family to know how much I loved them. How grateful I was for everything they had done for me. I wanted them all to know that nothing was their fault and they couldn’t have done anything to stop me from ‘achieving’ my goal of ending my life. I felt as though it was time to go, that there was nothing more for me here and I didn’t want anyone to be hurt by my decision, which I now know is an impossible thing to ask of those who care about you.
I feel as though those may have been some of the thoughts that were crossing Daniel’s mind when he decided he was going to end his life. When he decided it was time. I hope it can offer you some form of solace that not one thought was towards anyone’s blame.

I am so sorry for your loss and I want you all to know that along side your friends and families, your fans will stick by you no matter what is to happen next. We all love you very much and we will do anything we can to help you through this difficult time.

To my friends and family,
I’m sorry for what I have put you all through. Although not fully, I feel as though I understand a little about how you must have felt when I decided it was time to go. I love you.

Dear Daniel,
I hope you have found peace wherever you may be now, and with a heavy heart I feel as though I need to say I’m sorry that you felt so lost that you had to end your life, but I also feel the need to say I understand after being there myself.
You will never be forgotten and you will live on in all of our hearts.

Rest in Peace

-Plain Jaine xo


Let Me Try & Explain

Death. Suicide. Self harm.

The year that was supposed to be a fresh start for almost everyone.
“New Year, New Me”
Everyone was ready to start their New Years Resolutions. Ready to start their diets, ready to pack up the cigarettes and ready to transform themselves into something different, like some kind of life sized human caterpillar, ready to form into their cocoons, turn into caterpillar soup and then blossom into a beautiful butterfly!

…Yeah right!
Come on, it doesn’t take a genius to know that most New Year Resolutions last no longer than a week.
But whatever, do you, boo boo.

Anyway, I thought I’d write a new blog post after how ever long it’s been (ironically, my New Years Resolution was to blog more..) and explain how my year has been going.

Honestly, I thought it may hold something decent.
It had been a year since my mum died, which obviously was as hard as expected, but overall, all of the ‘firsts’ were over and done with, so it was a lot easier to know that things were going forward, moving on.

The first 2 months, I don’t really remember, I was still working on getting moved into my new flat, (which still looks like a fucking tip) so from what I remember, I was pretty occupied.

Forward into March, this is where shit starts to hit the fan.. It was the first year of my Mum not being here on the 24th which was hard, but overall I think I dealt with things pretty well After all, I’d already been there, done that and got the t-shirt to prove it when I lost my Dad.

Fast forward a few days to the 31st, my Dad’s Birthday but also one of the most heart wrenching experiences I’ve had aside from becoming an orphan. The one thing that was holding me together, giving me some hope and joy out of my what seemed pretty shitty life had to be put to sleep. My pony, Hunny.
Now, some people who are reading this will be thinking “it’s just a pony”, but to me, she wasn’t. She was my therapy. My healer. She brought me back from a hole that I was sinking into and gave me a reason to get up in the morning other than to take a piss.
Don’t get me wrong, I know, or at least, like to believe she’s still with me in spirit and I cherish that, but I would give my all to have made sure Hunny was never ill in the first place.
When Hunny was by my side, whether she was nuzzling at my arm, or sneezing in my face, as disgusting as that was, I felt invincible. She was my everything. No, fuck it, she was my spirit animal which is even more fitting seeming as she’s no longer galloping along this earth, but somewhere else where she’s pain free, I hope.

My Sweet Princess

My Sweet Princess

March also marked another first for me.
It was the first time I was hospitalised for attempted suicide. I can’t remember what triggered it, but I just remember saying to the paramedics over and over “I just want to see them again”.
My theory was that if I had of died, or at least reached that state where you’re almost dead, ‘going towards the light’ and all that, I’d see my Mum and Dad again. I thought that would make me happy. To be honest, I think it would have.
That hospital visit was an in-out job, really. I’d attempted to take an overdose but I was caught, which resulted in me slashing my arms and legs in frustration. Luckily though, it was only minor so I was patched up, sent to speak with the mental health team and discharged home.

Fast forward to June, I’m admitted again. This time for a mental break down and also self harm. I remember having multiple panic attacks whilst I was there because of the amount of people that were in A&E. I was scared and I wished I wasn’t there. You’d think that would make me think twice about causing harm to myself. It didn’t.

Fast forward to September, 2 days ago to be exact, I’m admitted into hospital. This time it was serious.
I had taken an overdose, I’d taken a dosage of 1300mg of Quetiapine with the sole intention to kill myself. I failed, again.
I was taken into hospital on Monday night and I wasn’t released from hospital care until yesterday evening.
After a night in hospital, switching beds, being attached to a drip, screaming at nurses to leave me alone as they came at me with needles and dropping in and out of conciousness, I was transferred to a Mental Health unit the other side of Birmingham.


I wanted to write this blog post with hope that I’d shed some light on how things work inside my head.

People keep asking me why.
Why I didn’t call them.
Why I didn’t tell someone.
Why I didn’t call a help line.
Why I did it.
Why I was being so selfish.
Why I never thought about others.
Why I thought no one would care.
Why? Why? Why?

I keep being asked all kinds of different things, things I find overwhelming, things I can’t answer, things even I don’t understand.

I don’t plan these manic events. I don’t just wake up one day and think;
“You know what I’m going to do today? I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to tear everyone I know apart”
I mean, fuck, I wish that was how it worked, I fucking wish I had that warning, that sense that I’m going to do something which could result with me inside of an overpriced box. At least then I could reach out to someone, scream for help, warn people.

“Please, someone help me, I’m going to kill myself today!”

It doesn’t work like that. 
It comes to me as much as a shock as it does to everyone else when they eventually find out. I’m still trying to grasp what happened on Monday, what I did, but I can’t.

When I reach this state of mind, it’s like the whole world stops and I get devoured by this big black mist. I phase out. The only way I can describe it is, it’s like I leave my body for a bit. I just, disappear. My mind becomes that blank and I become that numb that I don’t feel anything. I can’t think straight, I can’t think rationally. All I can think is “die”.

“Die. Die. Die”

I hurt so much, physically and mentally.
Nothing stops it, I haven’t found anything that can, it’s always there, lurking in the darkness waiting for the opportune moment to attack. I’ve been through multiple and different therapy sessions and I’m on enough medication to open up my own pharmacy, yet I still can’t find that balance.

Don’t get me wrong, some days I have an amazing time, I feel like I’m high off of the energy and enjoyment I get, but the happier I am, the harder I crash. And sometimes, it’s too hard to pull out of that crash. I lose all of my motivation and I lose my strength, even my will to live. Then everything becomes a blur and then usually, something happens.

“I’m sorry” is all I can say to the people I have hurt.
I’m sorry that I have hurt you, cause you pain or anger. I’m sorry. I can’t cope.
Sometimes, my death seems like the only answer. The end to all of my pain.

I can’t promise that I wont do it again, in fact, I’d be better off promising that it probably will happen again.

To the friends and family that have stuck by my side, included me and made me feel like I’m something, thank you.
I wish I could let you know how much you all mean to me and how much I love you, but I don’t have the words to. I don’t know how to express my gratitude.

All I can say is thank you and I’m sorry.

– Plain Jaine xo

Fake a Smile!

Could you tell? I mean, if I hadn’t plastered that picture with warnings, could you tell I’m a sufferer of depression?


What about the person sat next to you, your children, your brother or sister, your best friend, maybe even your parents, could you tell if they were depressed?

Yes? You know them? Really? Think again..

No? That’s what I thought.

My next question, what would you do if you found out someone you knew or cared about had depression? Would you comfort them, tell them that everything will be okay and that you will help them? Or would you just kick the dirt they lie in into their face and tell them to “grow up”, to “get over it”, to “man up”, to “stop wasting time”, to “stop attention seeking”?

Honestly, what would you do?

For some stupid reason, mental health is still a very taboo subject. It is shunned and god forbid you’re a sufferer, because you’ll probably become shunned too.

I was.

Now, before I continue, don’t get me wrong, my family and some friends have ALWAYS supported me, ever since I was diagnosed with depression from the age of 10, my family have never wronged me and for that I am grateful.

It was others who weren’t so kind.

School especially.

In junior school you can expect it, they don’t understand, I didn’t understand, I mean, why did I feel like I didn’t belong? Why did I always hurt? Why did I always cry? It’s not something a 10 year old should understand, they shouldn’t have to deal with it.

But high school, they should have understood. They were old enough to know better.

You know that old kids rhyme?

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me”?

They lied.

They did hurt.

Dear God did they hurt.

Now I’ll admit, I wasn’t a pleasant person to be around in school, but what would you expect when you’re 12/13 and you’re terrified to go home in case you find out your Dad has died from the cancer he’s been fighting. Too scared to go anywhere alone in case the kids that promised to “kill you for you” actually take action on that promise.

Having to face people virtually tearing my school clothes off me to look at my scars. To ask me why I have scars. To crowed around me in a group to torment me for my scars.

“Why do you have scars, Heather? Hey, come and look at this ….., Heather’s a dirty emo!”

“Why don’t you go and slit your throat if you’re so depressed!”

“Go and kill yourself, you emo bitch!”

“Just because your Dad’s dying doesn’t mean you can take it out on us.”

“You’re not depressed, you’re just a fucking attention seeker and I bet you even lied about your Dad dying!”

“Personally I wouldn’t deal with people who say they’re depressed, they’re just time wasters.”

“10?? How can you even be depressed at the age of 10?? That’s a lie!”

Just a few quotes I’ve never forgotten from school, college and even work.

I have been shunned by so many people, the sad part is that people used to threaten me. Threaten to beat me and sometimes those threats became real. It’s like they thought they could beat the depression out of me. To some people that may sound like they were doing me a favour, but bloody noses, bruises and extra mental stress doesn’t make depression simply disappear. It makes it worse.

I guess the point of this post is awareness, if you know, love or care about someone you think might be depressed or showing the signs of it, please don’t make them feel bad for it. Help them, because although they may not be asking for it, hell, they may even deny it like I did, on the inside, some part of them is screaming for salvation. Sometimes a simple “everything will be okay” and a hug will be just enough to get them through the day.

If that someone is falling even deeper into the hole, or if you are, get medical help. See a doctor, or ring a helpline for advice on what to do. There are people out there who are there to help, it’s their job to help. It’s not about the pay cheque for them, it’s about your life and knowing they helped to save you.

Don’t leave it too late.

Get them help. Get yourself help.

Until next time,

Plain Jaine x