Jacqueline Cioffa's Blog

Does God only give you what you can handle?
Bullshit.
I don’t believe that.
We’re all just waking up and putting out little fires every day and everywhere.
Tornadoes. Earthquakes. Viruses.
Aging and death become the season you are thrust into with little preparation.
I’m here.
I’m okay.
I’m strong enough.
Adulting is a fucking bastard.
Adulting with a mental illness is exhausting.
I have been quiet because I need all the angels and energy reserves to walk through the fire and ice.
The silence has been a blessing.
I can hear myself and the spirit guides.
Time was never going to wait until I caught up, learned the lesson, or figured out my goddamn motherfucking purpose.
That’s the joke.
Home has always had an entirely different meaning for me.
I’m just a spectator watching the world whirl by.
Find the ones who love you and love them back.
Unconditionally.
It’s easier to walk through it broken and blessed.
Hope you’re doing okay and finding a soft landing.

The post Broken and Blessed appeared first on Jacqueline Cioffa .

Never assume that just because a person looks together they have it all together. Maybe they’re holding on by a thread or a whole bunch precariously strung together.Every time there is a suicide it hits me in the gut like a sucker punch. My hearts breaks and my mind explodes. I get angry, sad, defeated. I ask myself why him or her?Why is that celebrity plastered over social media? Triggering. Then I remember my extraordinary non-celebrity cousin and 14 years later I still can’t bring myself to go to the bridge and face it. Her death. Every day when I wake up I have to talk myself out of it. Not today, motherfucker. Not today.Lupe’s waiting, your mom needs you. There are a hundred million logical and valid reasons to stay. Ice cream, beaches, van life, margaritas, babies giggling, the rebirth of nature.Spring blossoms in May. The truth is when you live with mental illness day after day after excruciating day it beats you up. It wears you down.Logic? There is no logic. There is only paranoia, fear, chaos, desperation, and insanity. Don’t look for a reason.Lord knows I’ve tried. You won’t find one. Survivor’s guilt is a bastardly bitch for a lunatic empath like me.I am so sorry someone precious lost their life today. I’m so sorry on average there are 132 suicides a day. That’s 132 precious lives too many. I can do all the right things, take my meds, exercise, eat well, be accountable, and still. It’s a millisecond impulsive misjudgment. I don’t judge; I understand too well. My illness has a mind all her own.My Crazy does not know that I have a superpower.My friends and family. Reach out. Make the time. You might just save a precious life. They are all spectacular and worthy. I’ll be here sword and armor ready if you need me.It’s been a long-ass exhausting journey. We all feel alone and discouraged. We are never abandoned. By faith, your god, and compassion. Hold onto to those, and to hope.

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Special thanks to our guest speaker, Auburn native and fashion model Jackie Cioffa, who shared her own personal journey with mental illness. Her remarks were especially fitting at this time when so many have suffered in isolation and grief during the pandemic. Thank you Jackie! – Unity House

An Auburn native, Jackie is a champion of women’s rights and a staunch advocate of mental health awareness, especially timely right now. A celebrity makeup artist and an international model for 17 years, Jackie was living in New York City when her life and identity were forever changed, altered by a psychotic episode and a diagnosis of manic depression. Her memoir about her mental health journey, The Red Bench: A Descent and Ascent into Madness, has received critical acclaim. Living with bipolar disorder, Jackie believes passionately in using her voice to advocate and inspire others.

A snippet from the speech…

“There is no shame in living with a chemical imbalance
There is beauty in feeling too much
You are the miracle by just getting up
And showing up
Trying failing thriving
Surviving

Find the quiet spaces
Seek out the helpers
It’s okay not to be ok
But I promise after living almost twenty years with manic depression
There is sunshine and rainbows and joy and music and laughter and blessings

Five minutes ahead
Don’t quit five minutes before the miracle

Your life matters
You are the miracle
And you matter to me

I am determined to beat the shit out of this disease
If I can, so can you” – Jacqueline Cioffa

The post There is no shame in mental illness, only love and kindness appeared first on Jacqueline Cioffa .

I walk the streets and the world has emerged from the quiet.
Cars whiz by radio blasting as if nothing has been permanently altered.
Not one single thing.
As if our world and way of living haven’t been shook.
Rocked to the core.

I learned over a year that most people are blind, selfish, and missed the cosmic opportunity for growth.
The missed opportunity for change, of the human collective.

Nope, they’d rather get back to work, buy more shit they don’t need, forget, and get on with it. On with what? Time never stopped. What exactly are you running towards, I ask myself.

I quite liked the quiet beauty of solitude and being cocooned in nature.

I feel more isolated in a crowd now, than I ever did.
The masks have come off for most of us, and the busy, superficial rat race resumes.

You can’t hide ugly, it lives behind the eyes and on the tongue, and inside the deepest corners of the soul.

My grief is not personal, it’s purposeful and planet-full.
I hope I have emerged more thoughtful, aware, and empathetic.

I think I’ll stay here, in my quiet bubble stripping myself bare of all the layers and layers.
There is beauty in simplicity and radical acceptance, and I’m ok with that.

It hurts less to breathe when there is more air.

The post Behind The Mask appeared first on Jacqueline Cioffa .

No matter how far I’ve traveled, how many people of different circumstances, color, or beliefs I have met, I have never been able to fully understand them. Us, the complexities of humans. We are at a critical moment in time that requires every fiber of our strength, where digging deep may not be enough.

This is our once-in-a-century opportunity to test our courage and kindness. Lord knows it’s hard when there are a whole lot of assholes out there. Like the man (man, woman) at the gym who decides he does not need to wear his mask. Why does he think his life is worth more than mine, or the other members or the staff?

I may not understand him, but I will no longer excuse or tolerate privileged behavior. And I told him, loudly and with conviction.

I stopped puffing my chest and throwing around my supermodel, glamorous past years ago.
I choose self-respect.
I choose my self-worth, and yours on an equal playing ground.
I choose to practice empathy, humility, and patience. Lord knows we have to dig deep, and then dig a little deeper.

Because manners matter when surrounded by assholes and ignorance, light-hearted effort matters most.
We are so much more than this moment, and we forget so fast where we came from. Greed and arrogance leave black stains on your DNA.
It’s exhausting and soul-crushing.

I will always call out a bully.
I will always strive for deeper understanding.
I will always try to remember the lessons a good, just, humble father and mother taught me.
Make no mistake, that this lesson took a long, long, long time to fully grasp.
Sticking up for yourself and others is your God-given right. You have the right to be here, to be seen, and to be respected.
You have the right to be alive.

Human connection, and how we are remembered is the beautiful lesson. That is the only currency we leave behind. Choose it wisely.

Letter to The Editor, The Citizen: https://bit.ly/2QxxytQ

The post It’s a Soul Thing appeared first on Jacqueline Cioffa .

I have not been quiet about my journey or struggles with mental health, hoping I might help one person. That I feel the depths of their pain, I get the burden, and the feelings of helplessness, completely and utterly alone. I endure the ups and downs, anxiety and depression. 
This past year has given you all a tiny glimpse into what “fight or flight” feels like under the skin. 

It steals your dreams, your hopes, your faith, and leaves you numb. 
Better off dead, says the incessant voice in my head. 

I wake up every day and fight. 
To live. To stay.
To be here in this ugly world. 
Will today be the day bipolar wins? 
Or will I find the courage to battle the minefield that is the unruly brain? 

I have been mostly quiet this year because I need every ounce of energy to stay and to find some ray of beauty buried under the muck. And the stench of lost lives. 

There has been much talk about #blacklivesmatter, #stopasianhate, #metoo movements, loud and proud and I agree 100 percent. 
Equality, empathy, and emotional healing need to happen. Right now. 
Humanity needs a blanket of love and kindness to carry us through. 

When I witnessed #danielprude amid a mental illness crisis, naked in the freezing street with a hood shoved over his head I sobbed. I lost my voice. This troubled man was murdered by the police. I cannot be silenced or shamed any longer. 

WHAT IF THAT HAD BEEN ME? 
Would they have treated me the same, a white woman experiencing psychosis? Everything about us has to change. 

Where are the advocates, the helpers, the healers? 

This year, this horrific pandemic has left the mentally ill alienated, suicidal, and suffering alone. 
My silence is not because I’m ashamed of them or my illness, it’s because I’m disgusted by society and their greed, hatred, and blind eye attitudes. 
Disgusted. Disappointed. Brokenhearted.

Do not think for one second I won’t fight for the less fortunate, the invisible, and the mentally unstable because they are the kindest, creative, most compassionate, and best of us all.
Never judge a book by its pretty cover. 
I’m smiling, through the pain of it all.

The post Gone Mental appeared first on Jacqueline Cioffa .

If I Was Your Child    

Would you cover me in a coat of armor

So my blood didn’t weep

If I was your child

Would you shield me from the dark

The boogeyman that wiggled my doorknob whilst I sleep

If I was your child would you smother me with sweet-scented well-meaning

kisses

If I was your child would you teach me all the adventurous things I needed to be

Brave, bold, fierce, strong, fearless, and kind

If I was your child would you grant me an open-hearted curiosity and gypsy spirit

If I was your child would you fill my belly when it gurgled and hiccupped from

hunger

Life’s pains

Every day ups and downs

If I was your child would you discover the planet with me and all her beauty with

excitement

If I was your brave child that got broken with bruises

Would you patch up my busted knees and broken hearts

Would you shower me with love even when undeserving

Would you share your coat of kindness and mesmerizing colors

If I was your child, but not yours to hold onto

Not for too long, too tight, or even a million kisses

If I was your child would you prepare me for the cold, greed filled world

where other children were not born into luck

Or love or grace or unselfishness

Born to endure beatings, assault and fear and hunger and pain

With no escape

If I was not your child, but someone else’s mistake would you even bother to open your eyes and lookup

Be braver than your peacock feathered rooted in pride shielding a blind eye

From the lost children forgotten by mother earth and father time

Unlucky, undesired, unwelcome

Powerless without cloak and dagger

Lost children born without a family tree rooted deep

Where words like kindness, grace, beauty, and bounty were spoken freely

If I was your child

Brave, bold, and confident

Surviving and thriving free from lock and key responsibility

Smiling in prosperity

Would your heart be filled with pride and purpose

If I was not your child would you send some hope my way

Hope does not have to dwell inside your house exclusively

Hope should be shared and scattered like Hershey kisses

It must live in your heart and smile and willingness to cross the street

Born on the open roads and mountains and highways traveled making you wise

Opening your eyes to plight and diversity and pain

Because you too were somebody’s child once

Who deserved to be sheltered and showered with meteor worthy hugs

If I was your child would you give me the moon and stars

Hell I’m only a child, I don’t know any different

I’d settle for the black hole we all live in, illuminated by cracks of sun

not asking too much, but perhaps one teeny tiny star to guide me

Would you, could you, love me anyway?

The post If I Was Your Child appeared first on Jacqueline Cioffa .

If I was your child would you grant me an open-hearted curiosity and gypsy spirit
Might you discover the planet with me, all her beauty, heartache and mystery
Would you cover me in a coat of armor?
So my blood didn’t weep

If I was your brave child that got broken and bruised
Would you patch up my busted knees and aching heart
Would you shower me with love even when undeserving?
If I was your child, but not yours to hold onto
Not for too long, too tight, or even a million kisses
Would you prepare me for the cold, greed filled world where other children were not born into luck?
Or love or grace or unselfishness

If I was not your child, but someone else’s mistake would you even bother to open your eyes and look up
Lost children forgotten by mother earth and father time
Unlucky, undesired, unwelcome

If I was not your child might you send some hope my way
Hope does not have to dwell inside your house exclusively
Hope should be shared and scattered like Hershey kisses
It must live in the heart and smiles and willingness to cross the street
Because you were somebody’s child once
Who deserved to be sheltered and showered with meteor worthy hugs?

If I was a child would you grant me the fairytale, the moon and her stars
I’d settle for the black hole we all live in, illuminated by dazzling cracks of sun
I’m still young enough to believe
I’m just a child
Never asking too much, but perhaps one teeny tiny star to guide me

If I was no longer a child living with a lifetime of regret
Could I rewind and go back to unlearn every single fucking thing
I despise about me

I was somebody’s child once
A clean slate, big dreams, pure canvas
Filled with desire and dreams same as you
God bless the innocent who still believes in luck
May youth and moxy and childlike wonder carry you through

The post If I Was Your Child appeared first on Jacqueline Cioffa .

Life has been very good to me. 
Life hasn’t always been kind. 
It has been brutal.
But you know that now more than ever. 
I wonder why God decided to put us right here, in the middle of chaos and suffering, death and disease. 
Maybe your God has no say, maybe it’s just bad timing, or science or evolution? 
I don’t know. 
I really don’t. 
I can’t wrack my brain around it. 
Maybe your God or mine or the molecules that make up your DNA decided it was your turn to be here. 
What a fucking miracle of a mess. 
He /She knew you’d be strong enough to get through it. 
To weather the harshest seasons of humanity. 
I’m not sure the how or why or even who, the particulars. 
Not in the least. 
I am sure I have lived an excellent life, despite the bullshit. 
I would not trade it, but I hope when my end comes, I can face it. 
With grace and dignity and the knowledge that I tried. 
Unafraid to die is the lie we all tell ourselves. 
We’re all afraid. 
To die, to lose someone we love. 
Afraid to live. 
To get through it. 
Death can come when it’s my time. 
I could use a nice long nap, I’m fucking exhausted. 
Not today, or even tomorrow, or the day after perhaps.
I don’t want to carry the burdens of so much suffering, bearing down on my chest. 
I find quiet refuge in the beautiful greens of the evergreens, and sunny days that never disappoint. 
I howl at the moon cycles and am unafraid to get dirty. 
I put my faith in nature and the natural order of things. 
Time is irrelevant when we have no choice, but to breathe through it. 
So, go ahead and exhale. 
Life has been very good to me.
Even the cruelty and hard bits.
They have forced me to grow. 
So, go ahead and breathe in a smile. 
Time is best lived in between the inhale, and exhale.
Find the joy and secret places that swell you up. 
You’ll need them for the long haul.

The post Spaces of Your Heart appeared first on Jacqueline Cioffa .

Light and dark.
Space between the stars, we are.

Reflections. Patterns. Places.
Time tricks us into thinking we have more than enough.
To learn. To grow.
To surrender all things you think you know.

Time to leisurely learn
About yourself.
We do not.

We lie to ourselves and think, I’ll deal with that dream, that hope, that better version of me later.
We tuck it away, our tomorrow’s.
For someday. For another day.
Shrugging it off.

I’m the same awkward, eccentric girl I was at thirteen.
Same insecurities, self-judgment, same boring old me, curiously forever doubting myself.

And yet, I am so far off and away from that reality.
I am just me.
Older.
Fucked-up, crazy, and always daydreaming, wishing on a star.

The dress still fits, thirty years later when I no longer have any use for fancy, frilly things.

The light lives between the stars and the dark.
And I’m fine with that, co-existing with both.

I’m forgiving my thirteen year-old-self and am setting her free.
Giving her permission to own her fire and confidence and kindness and moxie.

There is raw diamond, dazzling beauty in stillness, and suffering.
There is a time to shine quietly, effortlessly, and without fanfare.

You are beautiful human, you are one of a kind, a unique.
Raw diamonds and gravel, true grit.

Walkthrough it, this life.
We have no choice but to try.
So find your footing, and dance.
You are starstuff, oxygen, and the miraculous space-traveling between.
The light and the dark.

We are the space between the stars.

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