An Open Letter

To Whom it May Concern:

I was only 26, with so much life left to live.

In a tiny room, I sat as a chill shivered up my spine,

From the metal chair on my behind.

On repeat in my mind that everything would be fine.

He looked at me, in the eyes.

An answer to all the confusion coming from his lips.

I heard his words, but my ears…no, my body, was on the ceiling.

A lump in my throat,

My brain was so numb, I felt dumb- founded.

He said, now I can begin healing.

To pick one word.

One emotion.

To create a sum = Grief.

Grief is what had just begun.

There are five stages to grief (they say):

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

Acceptance.

With now five years of life,

After the day my illness was given a name.

After the fear- that death was sentenced…

I have come to stage five,

That of acceptance.

I accept that each morning,

My wakeup starts with a prescription pill.

And before I put my head to rest

I thank God, take two more,

And hope to stay blessed.

I accept that forever, my doctors,

Will recommend a symptom management plan.

But with the support of my doctors- my closest friends,

All the tests and measures are easier to swallow,

Then treatment again.

But acceptance

If you recall,

Only does fall,

After four other stages:

Denial being the worst of all.

My research on my diagnosis…didn’t help!

A 10% mortality rate; they had to be wrong!

Breast cancer is only 2.6%; Pancreatic cancer at 8.

No genetic predisposition.

How did they catch it so late!

Anger came next.

Why me?!

What the **** did I do?!

God, I’ve tried to be a good person,

How could YOU?!

Bargaining set in.

Please God,

I will do everything right!

Listen to the doctors,

And appreciate life!

Depression…Depression…Depression is third.

I was always exhausted.

I couldn’t find the fight.

I didn’t want to live…

Not if I had to live like this.

I lived in depression the l o n g e s t.

I felt like a burden and had cried every day for the hurt to go away.

I started to give up- give in.

The side effects; appointment after appointment…

I wished death would be next.

A year ago, my disease put me in 24-hour care.

The type of care that you go nowhere.

I was terrified I would die.

That fear reignited my fight-

I was fighting for my life.

A life with my husband.

The chance to play as Auntie again.

And to ensure my parents would never-

Ever, have sight of my ashes.

I was able to come home…

Recovery began.

And I accepted fight,

Must become my best friend.

For my OWN STRENGTH is all that could get me through.

So, I hope this letter is a help to you.

In kind regard,

Your friendly psychiatric patient:

My name is Lauren.

I have mental illness.

I am living with borderline personality disorder.

P.S. MENTAL ILLNESS IS ILLNESS…10% of those diagnosed with BPD commit suicide; suicide is the second leading cause of death for those 25 to 34 in the United States of America.