Attention - Please read this first
Allow me to start off by saying that I will be doing alot of talking, or rather typing, here. Knowing me, this will probably get pretty intense. I feel I should warn you that I will be talking about my life, which hasn't gone exactly the way I expected. It does include some issues which people may find offensive. Also, I have not written about certain topics to get peoples sympathy or anything. I feel it is important to raise awareness on certain things, such as self-harm and depression, as these have been stereotyped to "emos" who want attention.
My childhood was actually pretty normal. Grew up in a nice, quiet area in a normal environment. I lived with my Mum, Dad and two older brothers. My brothers did my head in and were, most of the time, a serious pain in the ass! Richard, my eldest brother [5 years older], and I never really bonded. He was into cars and I was more into playing football and being a tomboy. David, my older brother [2 years older] and I so did not get on. Sure, he made me laugh, but he used to beat the crap out of me! [I am happy to say that David and I are now very close. Richard and me arn't exactly close, of course he's my brother and I love him very much, and we do get on very well. He recently moved into a house with his girlfriend, so I get along with him so much better now lol]. My parents and I had the normal "parent + child" relationship. The one person I loved more than anyone else in the world was my Nan. She was the most kind, considerate, loving lady and I feel so blessed, and so proud that she was My Nanny.
I spent most of my time playing with my best friend David. He was born 5 days before me, and lives round the corner. We were in all the same classes and so it was only natural that we would become close. To this day David is still one of my best friends, although he is now in university so it's hard to see him as much. We were mad about football [not watching it, just playing it] and would always have a ball with us, just in case we wanted to have a match.
I was very much a tom-boy growing up. I wore the "tom-boy" clothes, played alot of sports and really couldn't give a crap about how my hair was. I had alot of friends, most of whom were guys, purely because guys are less bitchy.
By the time I was in Junior school, I was so happy with my life. I had alot of friends, was very confident and quite smart. I don't really remember all that much about that period of my life to be honest. I liked school and i had good grades. I remember the day my best friend Vicky moved round the corner from my house. I was riding my bike with David and she was sat on the field, and I went up to her and asked why she was round the area, and she said she had just moved into a house. We were so happy when we realised that she lived literally, 20 seconds away from me. From that day on, we were always together. We we're known as "Mich and Vix" [which later changed to Shell and Vik].
Going to secondary school drastically changed my life. I was no longer the fun, happy, confident girl. Instead, I because quiet and withdrawn. It was so sudden, i don't even remember a change. Just one day, i wasn't the same girl. I was so shy around everyone, I would blush if someone spoke to me. It got to the stage where I was also shy around my family. Everyone except my Nan.
From the age of 13, I was classed as a "freak". I stopped going out with my friends and locked myself in my room. The only person I hung out with was Vicky. To be honest, I can't really remember much of my life from the age 13, to aged 16. It passed in such a blur. I do remember when I first started to self-harm. I was 14 years old, in year 9 at school. At first it was just little cuts on my arms with scissors, not really enough to do damage. I guess it was a cry for help. I thought that people couldn't see that I was in pain emotionally, so maybe they would see the physical aspects of how i felt. I remember that one day I was in an art lesson, and the night before I had completely slashed my arms [to which I still have the scars now], and my teacher saw my arms. He asked what had happened and I made up some crap about a cat attacking me, which sounds hillarious now, but at the time I thought it was believeable. I doubt that teacher believed me when I said that, but for some reason, he done nothing. Even for the next 2 years, when I showed up with cuts, bruises and burns all over my body, he not once asked again how it had happened. I don't blame him, I guess it's possible he really didn't notice, but maybe if someone had heard my cries for help back then, things wouldn't have gotten so bad in the future.
I can't really remember much more when I was 14. It passed in such a blur. A whirlpool of tears and blood.
When I was 15 years old, my Nan was taken to hospital for a suspected stroke. I never found out what really happened. It was the beginning of the summer holidays and I clearly remember the morning my Mum told me. I was still in bed, and she came in and said to me that my Nan had been taken to hospital. My reaction was like something from a movie: I clasped my hands to my mouth, and cried. I was with my Nan every day, apart from about 4, for the 5 weeks or so that she was in there. Towards the end she was getting so much healthier, when my Mum, Auntie and I would leave the hospital after a visit, she would link my arm and walk out with us. She also tried to set me up with one of the doctors names Alex. But, lifes a bitch, and she started to deteriorate. About a week later, she died. I felt so lost and empty without my Nan. On the day she died, my Auntie came back to our house for dinner [she had lived with my Nan her whole life, and had never married or had kids]. She and my Mum came to see me in my room and told me how much my Nan loved me, then they gave me her wedding ring, which she had said she wanted me to have. I now have it on a chain, but don't wear it as i'm scared of losing it. Instead I have her picture in a locket and wear that [along with a crucifix] everyday.
After my Nan had passed away, I gave up on life. I was very depressed all the time, and would cut myself pretty much every day. I felt so numb. I remember once when [like on so many other occasions] I felt my family didn't love me and i stormed out. It was night time and it was raining. I saw my friends on the way, and completely ignored them. I can't even remember how I got there, but I went to the cemetary and just sat by my Nans grave and I cried. When I got home later, my parents wern't even aware that I had gone out, so I got my dinner, sat in my room and silently ate.
When I was 16 I started a health care course at college. It was awful. I was so shy i couldn't talk to anyone i didn't know. Luckily i joined the class with Vik, but she was always loud, so she easily made friends. I had so many days off that first year, i think my attendance was about 50%. I'm such a slacker and will leave everything until the last minute and then get uberly stressed and rush to get it finished. Even so, I managed to pass the course with a Merit and was accepted into a second health care course.
When i joined the second course I somehow managed to get worse. It was awful. I'd have panic attacks and cry all the time. It was so embarrassing!! Yet the worse bit wasn't that I looked like a knob, it was that I had no idea why I was so upset all the time!! By this point I'd made friends with some people from the first course. They came onto the second course with me so it was only natural we'd stick together. Although I always assumed these people didn't actually like me, they just wanted a friend. My tutor [Helen] was amazing. She would always tell visitors not to put me on the spot, as I was so shy and prone to panic attacks. I honestly couldn't have got through college without her. She will never know how much she helped me.
My self-harming got alot worse by this point. I no longer cut my arms, as people would see. I was a long way past crying out for attention, I now cut myself because I hated myself. It was like I was two different people. There was a happy girl in me, screaming to get out, and so I would feel like it was the happy girl who was harming the demon trapped in my body. I now cut my stomach, and I cut deep. I got alot of infections from cutting, but I didn't care. I wanted so badly to make the hurting stop that I took alot of tablets and drank alot of alcohol. Strangely, my friend Lee decided to phone me at that exact moment, he could tell i'd done something stupid and called my home phone. Before I knew it my Mum and Dad were with me, cuddling me and telling me it would be alright. I was taken to hospital. In all honesty, I don't think I was trying to kill myself. On the surface, thats what it looked and felt like, but infact, I think I was trying to kill "the demon", I was just in such a state I didn't realise that I would end my life aswell. I was diagnosed with depression, which I now realise, I had since I was 13 years old. When Helen heard about the overdose, she was amazing. She constantly took me to one side to make sure I was okay. She would make time in her busy schedule to talk through my assignments with me to make sure I didn't get too overwhelmed. She told me about the college counsellor and encouraged me to talk to her.
I remember, there was a period of time, about a month, where I felt I had overcome it. I'd won. I was so happy, I was going out with my friends alot more, I met a guy called Patrick and got into a relationship and I gained some confidence. I managed to not cut for that month. Of course that was the calm before the storm.
I don't know why, but I went back down into a spiral of depression. I had finally had enough and, with help from Patrick, I went to the doctors and got in touch with the counsellor. I had previously been warned that there would be a long waiting list, but, to my surprise, she told me she would see me the very next day. The reason I was surprised was that I still didn't think people cared about me. Sadly, Patrick and me broke up after 7 months together. He was a great guy and I wish him all the happiness in the world.
After seeing the counsellor, i've been able to move on. It's now been months since I last cut. That is truely behind me. She [the counsellor] has made me see things in a different light. I'm now not so paranoid and I now know how to deal with my feelings. Looking back, I know that I'm so lucky to be here. I'm blessed with people who love and care for me. Everything happens for a reason and I'm so glad that I've been through all this. I am a much stronger person because of it. I honestly feel that God tested me to the limits, and I passed that test with flying colours. I'm so proud of myself, and so grateful to everyone who helped me through those painful 5 years. I miss my Nan so much, but I'm doing what she would have wanted: I'm doing myself proud and helping people.
You are not alone, You never have been. Even if you felt like everyone was ditching you and no one understands you, just trust me, you're not alone!!!
What you have is an illness and absolutly nothing you should be ashamed about!! So many people get it, it's unreal!! Your pain is real, and life is so hard. But this is just part of the ride. You can get better. Go to your doctor or a trusted teacher, friend or parent. Don't be scared of hurting them, to be honest, they already know!! although you may not feel it, you're acting differently and people and noticed it!!
If you can't talk to them, talk to me. I'm not saying i'll cure you, far from it. I'm just an ordinary 19 year old girl. Main point being i've been there
Add me to MSN or just email me. Or if you can't do either, send me a message in the boxes provided in my *Contact me* page. It will obviously not be put up on the site. It will be 100% confidential!!!
Good luck and always remember, you are beautiful. You are you.
Please feel free to leave a comment or share your story. Please do not write hate comments. Your comment could be the reason someone else feels unable to ask for help!
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