|
{Fighting a War}
Join Date: Jul 2009
Location: Milton Keynes
I am currently:  
|
Triggering (SI/OD) - My Story
I wrote this a few days ago (or weeks I Dunno) detailing my relationships with people I cared about etc - because I felt it was the only way to move through some stuff:
It's realllly long so I don't blame you for not reading it all
Okay this is my entire story - my soul purge that I feel I need to have if I want to continue life.
I was lying in bed until about 20 minutes ago and all of a sudden I started to cry, thinking that this was it, all my pent up emotions would come out in one horrific rush, I would released from this grip of new depression, but as I cried, I didn't feel better, I didn't feel worse either, to my horror I felt the same. How **** is that?? To have all my hopes of carrying on a normal happy life, hindering on this release of emotions and it turns out that nothing happened!
So anyway I started to think about stuff and here is my purge.
When I was 14/15 my friend showed me self harm. Her name was Hannah and before this (besides being bullied etc) I was a relatively happy child. I remember exactly the moment it happened (however I can't remember if I was in year 8 or 9 at school) - we were in a french lesson and she was using the end of her pencil (the ones that have rubbers on - she'd pulled the rubber out and twisted the metal). They were chicken scratches as it were, and I only did it because I was curious to what it felt like. Since then - it has been a turbulant journey with self harm, alcohol and other methods of self loathing. My habits went from scratching with metal, and pins to sharpener blades and then finally, to the daddy of cutting - razor blades. Nothing felt as successful in cutting than a razor blade and no lie, it made me feel so much better. Anyway this friend Hannah stopped doing this behaviour almost as quickly as she started, (in fact I think she never really intended to do it, I think she was just mucking around) and she persecuted me for my behaviour. We were best friends, but quickly drifted apart after a few years. I loved her, I really did, she was my bestest friend in the whole world. I was jealous, ALLL the time whenever she went off with other friends or left me out of a joke and I seem to have carried that behaviour for years on. Anyway, one day in our year 11 Geography class, a mutual friend discovered the cuts on my wrist (her name was Chloe W, I never really liked her but I liked her 2 friends) and she made a huge deal out of it. I think this was the end of my friendship with Hannah. I felt ashamed to look in her eyes, to look in Chloe, Laura and Amy's eyes. How could I when they had seen the deepest pit of my soul that I hadn't wanted anyone to see? I haven't seen Hannah in 3 years and haven't spoken to her in 2 and a half. I guess in the long run I'm over that.
Year 9 was the worst year of my life I think, I would cry up to 11 times a day. I stopped eating (besides one meal a day) and tried to connect to a school teacher who simply referred me to a school counsellor in the end. It hurt because I wanted her to help me, to heal me and be my friend - I guess. Irrational I know. I've always been the kind of person who got attached to people really easily - kicked puppy syndrome. Show a screwed up kid any bit of attention and they latch on - that's me to a tee. The teacher's name was Ms Suter - she was my drama teacher.
Year 9 was over and she left - I resented her by the end anyway so I didn't care much but then year 10 came and my tutor was the new drama teacher Mrs Perello. One day she found me crying (yes I cried alot back then) - I had lied and said I just felt unwell but then a few days later, I suffered the first panic attack I had ever had. I was in my French class and I just stopped breathing. I mean I was breathing in and out but it just didnt feel like I was taking any air -its hard to explain, but anyone who has had one will understand. That day, Mrs Perello took my IT class as a sub and I told her bout the panic attack. She told me to come and see her so we could talk about things. Thus the start of a horrific relationship. She never took me for drama, I had the other teacher Mr owen (that's a whole new story right there!) so I only ever saw her at tutor and when she told me to come and see her. I used to see her a lot when I was in her tutor but then I'm the sort of person who constantly worries I'm bothering people. I used to write her notes asking if I could come and see her. She was a christian (I'm atheist) so she would offer me God's view on stuff- and despite my beliefs, it was nice to have someone to talk to. We had numerous fights though - I think mainly in year 11 and 12. In year 11, she told me I was a satanist for wearing a pentagram (not an inverted one I might add). It hurt to have her shout at me but I pretended I hated her and didn't care. She told me she was sorry and I was happy that she cared. I was hurting, all the time, hurting. What was I supposed to do???
Anyway year 11 came, and she was no longer my tutor. She told me it wouldn't change things and that I could still talk to her. (She gave me a book called Secret Scars and to this day I look at it and think of her - No one besides family and friends, have cared that much to give me something). Eventually things did change though - we spoke less and less and we embarked on a love hate relationship. At Christmas 07 (my first Christmas in Sixth Form), she told me she couldn't do this anymore. I was devestated but pretended not to care. I cried for 3 hours afterwardss (probably more) and confided in another teacher Mrs Ffrench (who I never got to say goodbye to) who must have told Mrs Perello because that night she sent me a text message to say sorry, and to have a nice Christmas. I was happy that someone cared (I mean it's hard to explain, obviously my parents etc cared, but I mean someone who didn't need to care, cared ... ). I had a new confidante in year 11 that would carry me into my last year of sixth form before she ditched me. Her name was Mrs Smith. I was told to go see her by my Tutor Mrs Wilkinson because I admitted to her that I had been drinking to medicate, alot. Mrs Smith was the most stable confidant I had for 2 years and I really cared about her. I wish she had cared about me ... Again, I used to send her notes to ask if I could see her because I'm chicken **** and think I'm bothering people. I got proper attached to her - which is bad I know. Sometimes I cut at school and I used to go to the office (Mrs Smith was the first aider too) and she used to plaster me up, talk to me and hug me. It hurts to think about her now. She helped me make a phone call to my doctor to get my OCD diagnosed in year 11. Although by the middle of sixth form, I had stopped therapy and needed to go back, but when I asked for her help, she gave me it at first but in the end gave up. I havent been to the doctor since. (Not for that reason anyway). Two weeks into year 12, I was drunk at school. Mrs Smith found out, she came with me to have a meeting with my head of sixth form and I felt almost supported (not by my head of sixth Mr Riley- he was a ****ing arse hole) until they told me they wanted to have a meeting with my mum. I had to go down to my college the other month to see my ex Head of Sixth Mr Owen (I didn't get to see him anyway) and Mrs Smith said Hi to me as if I was just another kid. She asked How I was. Was I supposed to tell her I was dead inside?? She also called me Leanne at one point... Leanne is NOT my name! In fact it's my sister's but I don't think she knew my sister.
The most painful thing to think about is Mrs Gillingham. It still hurts to say her name in my head. I never say it out loud. I think I'd prefer to pretend she died, it hurts to think she is only 30 minutes away but has nothing to do with me since I'm not longer in her classes. She always took a kind of special liking to me in our Film Studies class cos I was the only year 12, the other 2 girls were year 13. And she called me pretty, she said I had pretty hair, a pretty face and she always used to take the time to talk to me. And even if her ideas were somewhat old fashioned, I didn't care. I loved her more than anyone else I've mentioned tonight. I loved her like a second mother and I cared so much about her, I used to do well in my classes FOR HER! I just wanted to make her proud of me. God I sound so pathetic but I've never told anyone that before. How can you love a teacher? I dunno - I just did. Anyway I haven't seen her in over a year now. It hurts to think that.
I never had closure. With anyone ... I never got to say goodbye to My school counsellor Jill... to my teachers.. to the people I cared about.
That moves me swiftly to the present and why I've recently been feeling like crap: my great Aunt Gladys died and although I cared, I didn't think I'd miss her THAT much (as heartless as that sounds) but I found myself harming myself at her funeral 3 days ago just to stop myself from breaking down. I wish I hadn't - I wish I had let myself cry and maybe I wouldn't be in this mess. I felt that if I had cried in front of all those people, I would have been seen as weak (the same way I don't nap in front of other people - I'm strange I know). Anyway so I feel weird having this feeling like 'I'm actually not gonna see her again..' (even though I only saw her like twice a year). I also think it made me think of mortality in my own family - I kept finding myself thinking 'how old will I be when Nan dies?' I sincerely hope for my sake that I'm older and have a family to fall back on. My nan is one of my favourite people in the world and when she dies, I feel that a massive chunk of me will be gone too. I know that depression will be too lighter a word to describe how I will feel when that day comes. I feel I should do something nice for her now.. I snapped at her earlier - it's not my fault, I'm always tired. I feel that if I do things that are nice, people will think I'm nice and all warm and fuzzy inside - I'm not.
The other thing bothering me is my jealousy over my best friend Jo and our friend Mo. They seem to be real tight friends these days - going out together and not even inviting me.. .I know it sounds really stupid but I do feel reallllly left out and it hurts. They went camping for the night together a few days ago and I didn't even know bout it til they came back. I have this horrible fear that Jo and I are drifitng apart and I don't want that because she is the first REAL REAL best friend I've ever had and I really care bout her. I just feel like we hardly talk anymore - not properly.
I want to get drunk right now.
I feel like everyone is moving on around me and I'm standing still - like a motionless statue in the middle of a roundabout. I will feel so lost without Jade, and Jo. Jade and I have gotten so close (or at least I feel) over the last year and now we have 2 months before she goes to Uni. I'm aware I sound like a needy freak but who cares. Jo will also be in Hull in just over a month. I also feel bad for not taking the time to talk to my friend Anna - I just don't feel like talking much anymore - not since my spirit became crushed and trodden on.
I'm dark and twisty inside and I'm all alone. I'm trapped in a cage of my own doing. I've ****ed up and now I have to live with the consequences.
I took an overdose once. I've never told anyone that (besides this girl I hardly speak to anymore) but it was in New York and I didn't want to go home because I was having such a good time with everybody and I knew that once we went home (it was a College trip btw) that everything would go back to how it was. So I took back 9 caffeine pills (sounds pathetic I know - but I really thought I was going to die. A normal overdose of caffeine would have resulted in hyperactivity, racing heart . Me - I couldn't see properly, I was sick about 20 times in an hour, vomiting blood, headache and the rest of it. I would have called 911 if I had been on my own. It was horrible). Anyway needless to say things went back to the way they were and here I am considering other means of harm.
I don't think theres much else to say really.. I'm sorry it's all a load of bollocks and what not - I don't really expect anyone to read it - I just needed to get that off my chest. I don't feel better but I feel like I've finally brought all this out and can now attempt to deal with stuff bit by bit... whether that WILL happen or not is another story, but here's to trying!!!
|
