of the variety of societal pressures that helped create her suffering, she was affixed with a label that blamed it all on her. Instead of being treated humanely, she was written off as just another dramatic and manipulative borderline.
Jacqueline’s discomfort with her true self meant that she found it very hard to be alone. She had lived by herself earlier in her twenties, but when her symptoms worsened she moved back in with her mother. Due to her frequent suicide attempts, she was on virtual lockdown inside her home. Her mother removed the doors from her bedroom and the bathroom. She had to ask her mother for a knife to cut her food or a razor to shave. I could sympathize with her mother’s caution to a degree. Jacqueline could be quite impulsive, and I also feared what she could do with little forethought. At the same time, however, that’s not much of a way to live.
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