Well were should I start … maybe as far back as I can remember. This first memory I don’t know how old as was probably 4 or 5; the first of many arguments I remember as a child. They went on for what seemed like hours, me and my sister crawled on the sofa crying with pillows over our ears trying to block out the sound. Then my dad storms down the stairs with the holdall (we still have that encase my dad wants to storm out) shouting. He comes back the next day say sorry and my mom takes him back. This is the pattern for many years to come until one day my mom moves out.
Don’t know why or how old I was, all I know is there's no arguments, no shouting – peace at last. That year or so was the best of my life a normal family, just me, my mom and sister. We moved a bit until we live on a council estate in Wilmslow. Nice little place it was, till my dad came back; the first night there was a massive row. But my mom didn’t care she had her man and a family. Things were ok for a while until my step-granddad was arrested – for abusing my anti, went to jail and everything.
This was a turning point; my life crumbled. My dad began his controlling – not as bad back then but still… the arguments got worst, the injuries bigger, even the walls showed our life. To everyone else we were a good family with good kids’ just like most of the other people back at that estate.
I was 7 (nearly 8) when we moved back to Manchester – same house, same walls, same memories. As my dad got more controlling, I became a shy, worried little girl – I just wanted to please him. I went though primary school; I was the good girl, bright and ‘happy’. Year six came and went; I got good SATs results (the modal student), first boyfriend.
The arguments still continued part of my daily life. Then when I didn’t get it to a high school, I thought ‘no, no escaped, life with them without getting out the house’. Then as Christmas came around I was accepted to Chorlton High. As I started high school, I began to see the man my father was, I came to hate him. He controlled my mom like a puppet and she gave him the handle. She didn’t go out – only to drop off the kids, my sister and I did all the shopping. The worst thing was she let it all happen.
I learned to get on with life, bottling up my anger and frustration with my parents, trying to be the good little girl, no burden to anyone; I got good grades, did my homework. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, I just got more shy, hiding in my books – I love to read helps me escape the life I’m forced to live.
As year 9 started I started to get panic attacks and would breakdown; the years of bullies and my home life had taken its toll on me. And this how I continued for a month or so then I learned to cope. I stuck all the bad feelings I had about myself – the worthlessness, the bullying and the low self-esteem – I locked it all up in a little purplely/blue room I visited twice a week.
This happened to be my drama room; I don’t say I make the best choices. Every lesson of drama I had, I spent 10 minutes of it trying to get out of it – my mentor Miss Becky graham (the best woman in the world) tried to help but I wouldn’t let her through the locked door of that room; there wasn’t much she could do except listen to me hyperventilate with fear every time I had drama, then smile at the sigh of relief I had when I didn’t have to do it.
Whilst this was going on, I was still the modal student. I had good friends – Pascal, Gaurav and David (a little later I had Sophia too). None of them knew my life, not really, they new me but not the whole of me. No one knows the whole of me not even me it’s all hidden away behind locked doors and padlocks. That’s the only way I manage to stay sane, I think.
Some time before Christmas my drama teacher broke my heart (no, it’s not what you think…) she told miss graham I couldn’t miss drama any more. I was shattered. I became more and more withdrawn, having more attacks. I still had good grades but I hide more and more behind my books, reading everything and anything – just to get away.
While I was in this room I felt all the bad feelings I had, all of the hate id bottled up; I’d sit and stare at the wall not talking just wishing it would be over. I became worse outside of drama; She’d unlocked the door to the purplely/blue room and chucked away the key. I drowned in the sea of my hurt, worthlessness and low self-esteem.
I hated my teacher; you would if she was the one that locked you in a room with all those feelings. 2 hours a week may not seem like a lot to most people but imagine being locked in a room with spiders or made to stand on a top of a cliff, and then you’d know how I felt.
This happened until I broke down – I had a massive one, right in front to my drama teacher. She suddenly sore what she’d been doing to me by making me got to my drama lessons. She helped miss graham to get me to double art. They got me there with the help of Miss Richardson (my head of year).
I was as happy as I could be; I mean, I still had breakdowns but their main cause was safely barracked behind that door. I loved life and lived it. I spent as much time out of the house or in my room reading or studying as I could. I went shopping on my own now; I did most things that needed to be done outside the house.
Sometime during year 9 I found out my cousin died – she was 3 or 4 at the time. I found out thought the Manchester evening news. She neglected and used as a Joey by her mom and boyfriend. They got 3 years for it. My mom was devastated she had to find out though the paper. They (her family) didn’t even have the heart to tell her in person. Not that I’ve seen my moms side in years.
On June 30th my life got better still, I found the man I loved (not that I new it then, of course – I knew a week later) – David Latham - my one and only. My life was good until last week; well what I mean by good is there were no arguments, I still did the shopping but I had I life and was enjoying it. They (my parents) also started shouting at my ‘lest than perfect’ grades (2 A’s and 6 C’s).
That was till last week
On Friday my boyfriend of 10 months 3 weeks and 4 days (hehe, yes I do count) broke up with me; the love of my life broke my heart – yes he was crying but he broke it anyway. This didn’t last long as 20 hours later we were going out again – not that I knew the reason why we broke up in the fist place. I found out a few days later he was scared if we carried on, we could get in more trouble – his mom threatened him with the prospects of jail. She also said some very mean things which once again broke my heart (I think of her as a second mom, well then I did).
My mom and dad was punishing because I got back with David; not that they said that but it was obvious that was the reason. They shouted and shouted at me, made me do chores I don’t normally do; made to go shopping to get stuff I knew I couldn’t carry. Then at the end of the week they had an argument. This one was about how I get everything I want (I wanted painkillers and coca cola) and that she had to go shop. In reality he just wanted to shout; he was in a bad mood.
Then that night I had a mini breakdown. My self esteem dropped and I felt worthless and disappointing. This is where my friends tried to help.
I say tried because I let no one help me I’m not worth it; I’m a roller-coaster, I get over this breakdown and be on a high 4 a few weeks and be having a breakdown again this time next month.
I also believe I’m on this earth to help people, not to be helped. My friend Pascal told me to share my feelings or id get worst so this is what I did. I could have told him everything but writing is so much less personal. I’m not asking for help, I’m writing my story down so others can read it.
I don’t think ill ever stop this roller-coaster journey but to hell with it. I have many things to be thankful for and if I have to live my life with my family and with my breakdowns so be it I get more than I deserve.
My friends are telling my to share my life with David but I cant I barracked that door shut after she threw away the key; once and in a while the sea breaks it down but I just build it back up for it to break down a few weeks later.
David is pissed off I know he is, he want to know what’s wrong, to see behind that door, I don’t know how to let him without crushing him under the sea of hurt.
I cant remember much of the months that follow so I'll tell what I do:
- I started cutting ( don't no when sometime in June I think)
- David broke up with me (a year and a week)
- I cut (dunno when but it was between me braking up and going back out with David)
- started going out with Gaurav
- broke up with Gaurav ( felt mean on him, I was in a bad state)
- started going back out with David ( 1 month 3 weeks after we broke up)
- school started ( beginning of September)
- cut ( soon after starting school it was a Tuesday) and got shouted at 4 it
this takes me up to the Thursday I started to feel terrible. I don't no why or what cause it but I couldn't get my self to feel better. This went on for a week and and 3 days, by this time I hadn't cut for 12 weeks and 5 days.
First I think I should tell you that I didn't choose to stop cutting I was forced to my David and Gaurav and Pascal, I don't mean it was wrong for them to, but I wasn't ready to give up.
Back to the story I guess, this takes me to the Sunday before my mock exams ( a stupid invention to help us get ready for GCSEs). So for a week and a bit I'd hated myself and thought I was useless and terrible and couldn't say a good word about myself. I also thought I wasn't good enough, I was never good enough, I wasn't perfect. So on Sunday I decided I had enough I wanted to feel better so I went ahead and cut (it was more scratch really as I didn't have a blade so I used my compass).
The day after I felt good but was waiting to get shouted at. I did later that day and it was my worst yet, I wanted to punish myself for making them hurt and worry about me. Tuesday I had my English language exam (1 hour 45 minutes of torture) I felt really good hyper even.
Today I felt OK,i was tired maybe ( had 3 hours sleep) but I'd cope. As the day wore on, I started to feel terrible again. I came home and did some revision (got English lit, physics and biology) and had the urge to cut, deeply. I want to so badly but cant, I'm not allowed. Maybe I will before the night is out I don't no.
I'm not ready to give up why is everyone making me.
