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

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Let Me Try & Explain

TRIGGER WARNING
Death. Suicide. Self harm.

2015.
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.

MAKING LIGHT OF THE SITUATION

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

The Worst Day of My Life So Far

March.

The entry into spring.

A month before my birthday.

Mother’s Day.

My Mother’s death.

On March 24th at 20:15, my wonderful Mum passed away to Cancer.
That same Cancer I swore wouldn’t take her.
That same Cancer that stole my Dad from me.

I’d say I have never felt so much hurt before, but I have. I felt the same feeling 8 years ago when I watched my Dad slip away, it returned on Monday the 24th, a feeling I thought I wouldn’t have to endure again for a very long time.

She went peacefully and quickly, that’s the main thing. No more pain, no more suffering.
She was comfortable, in a place she wanted to be, St. Giles Hospice and surrounded by family and friends.

It happened so fast.
It happened too fast.

I’d say I’ve felt this feeling before, but I haven’t. I don’t feel the same feeling I felt 8 years ago, I feel worse.

Both my parents are gone, I feel like an orphan..
..I am an orphan.

I feel so numb and I feel like I’m in one hell of a nightmare.
I feel as though I’m going to wake up at any second, but no matter how many times I beat my head with my hands, cry until my nose bleeds, cut and scratch at myself to see if I can still feel pain, I won’t wake up.

I’m not dreaming.
This is real.
This is really fucking real.

There are so many things I wanted my Mum to see, hell, there are so many things I wanted my Dad to see too..

My wedding..

My children..

My life..

I’d only just come to terms with the fact that my Dad was gone and he wouldn’t see me grow.. Now I have to come to terms with the fact that my Mum won’t be there to see me grow either? This is not fair. This is cruel. This is sick.

To say the least, I am angry.

I am hurt, upset and really angry.

But they’re together now, right? My Mum and Dad.
They’re finally together after being apart for so long, they can finally be happy again and wait for me on the other side.
That’s what I’d like to believe and that’s what keeps me feeling okay.

Me and my amazing Mum.