Trigger warning: This post refers to rape and suicide attempts, which may be painful for some readers.
“Our lives only improve when we are willing to seize opportunities. And the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.” ~ Walter Anderson
This was my third psychiatric hospitalization after my attempted suicide.
Something changed on this visit. All I knew in that moment was that for the first time I couldn’t leave in a hurry.
There were no windows or clocks. I stared at me for 21 days and it was a pale blank wall.
I lay there, shattered and broken in a way that felt beyond repair. You shouldn’t hurt this much just by being alive.
Then I heard it – a whisper from behind me. “I need more in my life,” and it was little Jennifer. I had not yet recognized this voice as my inner child, but the whisper marked the beginning of my healing. It was the moment when I decided to stop running and be with myself.
I was very embarrassed by how my life unfolded. I didn’t believe I shared my story with anyone. Now I’m ready to talk to the world.
They rarely openly describe harsh topics such as health, suicide attempts, codependentness, and shame. That silence kills us one secret at a time.
If you’re reading this and you’re where I was, I want you to know that you’re not alone. No matter how broken it is, it’s worth fighting.
Before that hospitalization, I survived for years. Much of that survival was enveloped in someone I loved deeply. I call him Ethan.
He supported me through surgery, breakdowns and diagnosis. Even after we broke up, we remained entangled in each other’s lives, emotionally dependent and clinging to our connections, and I didn’t know how to navigate without.
When I was raped, my world was shattered all around me. After that, my rape kit and other records went missing. It landed me in the ICU when my second suicide attempt happened. I violated twice and felt like I had left an internal scar on myself.
I was consumed with anger in the world and myself. I didn’t trust anyone. I pushed everyone away, even those trying to love me. Friends and family were not safe. I didn’t do anything.
I couldn’t face the reality of my life, so I buried my head in the sand of online shopping, sleep and eating. It reached a point where I couldn’t function every day.
My nightmare was so intense that I woke up screaming. I then looked down and realized that while I was sleeping, I had torn the sheets in half. I was afraid to fall asleep.
When I was awake it felt like I was in decline. I no longer recognized myself. The fear and depression were so severe that I couldn’t touch it. Even what you should feel normal.
The water in the shower that hits my skin will flinch me. The blow dryer made me panic. I had a crying spell that came out of nowhere. During the flashback, I was unconsciously grinding my teeth and cracking them.
After the rape, I was unable to stay in the apartment where the attack occurred. Thankfully, Ethan let me return to his apartment because he is a kind friend.
I fell apart in every way. I hadn’t been in the shower for weeks, but still wore the same Victoria secret flannel pajamas that had been loosened from constant wear in a few weeks.
My hair was a wild lion mane, a species expected of a lost creature in the jungle, and only softened when Ethan sat me and brushed me with gentle care. The cold hardwood flooring shocked my bare feet on my short journey from the bed to the bathroom and kitchen.
Ethan set out for work before sunrise and headed back to his dark apartment. He turned on the kitchen lights and saw the chocolate wrappers and tissues scattered across the floor.
He gently encouraged me to take a shower, but I didn’t feel embarrassed myself. He still hugged me every day.
For two years after caring for me, he was reunited with someone from his past. That night marked the beginning of something new for him and the elucidation of the small stability I had left behind.
I remember thinking, “Why does he fall in love when I’m dead inside?”
I watched life pass by and curled up under a pink furry blanket. Heavy tears slid down my face, still soaking in the only thing that comforted me.
Every time he left the apartment to go out with his new girlfriend, my breasts hurt with the mix of emotions that flooded me. jealous, anger, confusion bubbled so fast that I couldn’t understand it. I felt abandoned, forgotten and exchanged.
As time passed after he left, my mind began racing. I imagined what she looked like, what they were doing, and whether he was happier with her than he was with me. The thoughts consumed me, caused me depression, and I began chewing food to numb the pain.
He was a person trying to continue his life, but in my broken state, I saw it as proof that I am not good at it and that everyone else can heal and move forward, except for me.
The problem was that I had no life to come back to. I had no identity outside of him. I didn’t know who I was, what I liked, or how to take care of myself emotionally.
When I felt I needed it, I lost my sense of worth.
It stayed with me. I didn’t notice it at the time, but it kept my inner child Jennifer understated. Her healing became one of the missing pieces I didn’t know I was looking for.
For years I relied on Ethan to calm me down when I didn’t have the tools to soothe myself. He gave me love when I hated myself and cared when I couldn’t make or forgive who I became. In many ways, he had a mother in the part of me that I had never learned to raise.
It took me over a year to stop the old habits when it came out. I finally deleted all the dating apps and promised that men, shopping and using food would no longer run away. It was the first time I chose myself.
I began buying flowers myself and offering compliments that I had asked others to say, “You’re amazing. You’re beautiful. I’m proud of you.” Now I was becoming the person who gave me the love and attention I had always looked for.
I started the date of self-love. At first, I only had five minutes to listen to music. They then turned 6 and eventually ended up with seven. Sitting alone in my mind was unbearable for someone like me, or someone like me who had run away from weed, alcohol, or someone like others’ company.
I didn’t know how to manage my restlessness, but it kept showing up. I added one more minute every week.
In the end, I wore my most beautiful dress and took me to a cafe, meditation class, or film. I didn’t know what I like, so I made a list. I wanted to be a reliable person. Slowly, I began to love my company. A woman I used to be unable to hold back has become someone I look forward to learning.
Those narcissistic dates didn’t just build my self-esteem. They became the foundation for finding themselves.
Each outing helped me rediscover small pieces of myself. I realized something interesting. I was able to make myself laugh.
I didn’t need to be a distraction anymore. I would never have known this if I hadn’t kept showing and learning people under pain. Looking back, the most life-changing thing I’ve ever had was to stop abandoning myself.
If I had loved and cherished myself as I am now, I would still be heartbroken when Ethan moved, but it wouldn’t have broken me. I would have known that I could survive it and still build a life worth living.
We develop relationships with ourselves, just like the people we date.
Remember when you first met someone and you were exhausted, you stayed on the phone for hours as you kept your curiosity about them? That same childlike curiosity is what we need to bring to our relationship with ourselves.
Loving yourself is not a luxury. That is essential. When you build a strong bond with yourself, you will not collapse when someone else leaves. You are not waiting to be chosen anymore.
That’s what I was learning with those narcissistic dates. I asked many questions, exploring my thoughts, and gradually began to learn about myself.
If you’re lost or don’t know who you are without someone else, start with these gentle questions.
Are there any books, songs or movies you’d like to try but haven’t had a chance yet? Think of foods you loved as a child but didn’t have in years. What is your young self sad about what you quit today? Are small details like costumes, scents, or songs used to make you feel lively?
The answer doesn’t need to be excited right now. They are the starting points, which are small threads to follow when you lose your map to yourself.
If you ask yourself these questions, if you find them overwhelming, start with something small. I whisper to myself: “I still have hope.”
Hope waited quietly under all of that pain when even my darkest moments couldn’t imagine I wanted to live again. Sometimes, the smallest spark of hope is enough to keep you moving until you are ready for the next step.
These questions lead to curiosity. Curiosity leads to action. And actions become the first step in finding your way back to yourself.
You don’t have to wait for someone else to choose you. You can start by choosing yourself.
The whispers I heard in the hospital became a roadmap to find me.
My biggest regret is not choosing Little Jennifer early. I kept waiting for someone else to save her, but she was waiting for me to take her home the whole time.
If you have a quiet voice asking you to focus on more than your survival, listen to it.
It may feel impossible now, but those whispers will hold the truth you’ve been looking for everywhere. Your journey to yourself may not look like me, but I promise you this: you are worth fighting.
About Jennifer Conacchio
Jennifer is a certified trauma recovery coach at www.jenniferconacchio.com, where therapy alone isn’t enough, she guides women from survival to self-discovery through a personalized healing approach. Jennifer’s approach combines DBT-based skills, inner child healing and fashion therapy to help clients create a viable roadmap and reconnect with themselves. Grab your free inner child quiz & healing guide and find out which inner child is leading you.
