Saturday, 26 January 2013

GUEST BLOG ~ The Youth of Today..

Tonight I am going to publish a guest blog ~ as I don't know how to do it properly I am simply going to copy and paste the blog.

I know the family involved, I know the young woman who bravely wrote this blog and I also know the pain and suffering that was endured and the subsequent fall out.

I urge you to read it with an open mind ~ and, if you have teenage daughters I urge them to read it as well. Life is not easy for the youth of today and for this amazing girl to be brave enough to write this I urge you to applaud her..

So basically this is my life story from around about year 7. I felt I had a few things to get off my chest, and as I have such a mad love for writing, I felt like turning into a story. I’m not trying to attention seek I just wanted to get this weight off my shoulders. Everything I wrote here is something I felt or that happened to me at some point. I’ve changed all names to protect the guilty.
Hope you enjoy! :) ‘Katy, wake up! Its 7!’ called my mum into my room.
 ‘Oh God!’ I called back ‘I’m getting up!’
 It was a school morning. I had to get up, get dressed and be at the bus stop for half 7. It was difficult. I was always so tired, I could never sleep at night. Too many thoughts buzzing round my head. I SHOULD have gotten up at quarter past 6, but I didn't. 

Quickly, I stood up and grabbed my school uniform from the floor and dressed. God I hated navy. Then, running downstairs, I pulled my hair out the bobble and tied it in a bun at the back of my head. No time to brush it. I never did anything with it. They always took the mick out of me whatever. I pulled my shoes on, put my bag over my shoulder and ran back up the stairs. ‘Bye mum, I’ll see you later!’ I said, my head poking round the corner of the door.  ‘Bye sweetie, have a good day.’ She smiled back at me. 

I ran out of the front door, grabbing my keys as I went. I locked the front door.  It was icy, so I slipped and slid about the place with almost every step. I pulled my phone out my pocket. It was 7:25, oh God. I sped up and ran down the hill, round the corner, and to the bus stop. The bus was just coming round the corner. Joy of joys, I hadn’t missed it…

 I got on the bus, and smiled at the bus driver. He always smiled at me, so it seemed rude not to return it. I sighed and started climbing up the steps to the top floor. As always, I was greeted by the site of Lauren and Heather. My stomach started twisting. What were they going to do today? I sat down near the front, next to the window. I could hear them giggling. I knew it was about me; about my school bag, or my hair, or the fact that I wore no make up. That was how it started you see. They’d whisper and giggle, and point. After that they’d maybe throw pens at my head, or pull my iPod headphones out. It was usually just that, although sometime they’d hit me with bottles, cardboard tubes with stuff in, school bags etc. Occasionally they’d throw my bag out the bus window, spit on me push me about, trip me down the stairs, rip my school books up. 

 By this point, we were at the stop after mine. I could see her, waiting, talking to some people around her. My stomach knotted even further. I wanted to be sick. I could hear her annoying laugh, and stupid voice getting louder. I shrunk into my seat, trying to hide away as much as possible. She came and sat behind me.
 ‘Heeey Katy’ she said, giggling.
 ‘Hi Nicole.’ I replied, sighing. 
‘Did you do that history homework?’ ‘Yep..’ 
‘Give me your book, I want to copy.’
 I rooted around in my back and gave my history homework booklet to her. It was much easier than arguing. 
‘Aw thanks babe, you can have it back in a bit.’ She said, walking off.
Today’s trip was going to be okay. She was too distracted to say anything. 

School was okay, apart from break, lunch and after school when I had to wait for the bus. I didn’t have any friends. I’d just go and sit with someone that I knew. If they were sat with Lauren, or Heather or Nicole or anyone else, I'd sit on my own, or skip lunch altogether. I'd sit on my  I was quiet in lessons, and just got on with what I had to do. I just wanted to get home.  

The bus came at quarter to 4. I was stood quietly near the main school gates. All the popular kids came flooding out, shouting and laughing. I hunched up against the wall hoping they’d walk past me. They did. They all walked up to the gates, and sat on the wall. I saw them laughing and talking. 
Then, Nicole shouted down the road to me. ’Oi, Katy, come here! I want to show you something.’
 I walked down the road towards them. 
‘What?’ I said.
 ‘Come a bit closer.’ She whispered.  
I walked up to her and she grinned. All of a sudden, I felt this shower of sticky, slimy, gross mess spray down on top of me. 
‘What. Was. That.’ I said, quietly.
I looked up to see Nicole laughing so hard she was crying. She pulled out a packet of refreshers from her pocket and pointed to them. Nice. She’d spat chewed up refreshers over me. Even though it was about -5, I took my blazer off because it was absolutely covered. It was on my face, and in my hair; there was nothing I could do to get rid of it.  

The bus was coming round the corner, so walked to curb and waited. When the bus came, I pushed past everyone so I could get my usual seat, and not have to sit next to a stranger. It worked usually. Sitting down, I jammed my headphones right into my ears, and turned the volume up. Jessie J - Price Tag was blaring into my ears at full volume, it hurt, but it hurt less than listening to what everyone was saying about me. I put my blazer on the seat next to me and shivered. The rest of the journey was okay, until I was about 5 minutes away from home.  Lauren marched up behind, and ripped my headphones out, breaking them as she did so. I put my iPod and headphones in my pocket. Sighing, I turned around. I could see Lauren, Nicole, Heather and Molly throwing my bag about. I stood up. ‘Just stop it. Give me my bag back. I’ve got to get off!’ I shouted. ‘Ooooh, someones a bit too big for their boots.’ Heather laughed. Grabbing my bag, Molly, ran to a window and opened it. Then, with a cackle, she chucked it onto the ground. I ran down the stairs, and got off the bus. Tears started to fill up my eyes.  
I decided to ring my mum. ‘Mum, I know its only 10 minutes walk, but please will you pick me up from the bus stop?’ I asked, my voice cracking every so often. 
 ‘Of course sweetie, I’ll be there in 5.’ She replied.
 Picking up my bag and walking over to the wall, I sunk to the ground, holding back waves of sobs. It felt like a millennium before my mum’s car came round the corner. I stood up quickly and ran into the car. Having no blazer on, I was freezing.
‘Liv, why isn’t your bla- oh.’ My mum started to ask, before seeing why.
 I just nodded.
‘Are you okay?’ She asked, hugging me. I broke down in the car there and then. I went through an entire packet of tissues. My mum made me retell the day from start to finish. It was almost like reliving it. 

By the time we got home, all I wanted to do was eat. Eat and eat and eat until I exploded. I just wanted to comfort eat. So I did. I’d have a packet of crisps, and a bowl of cereal, then my tea and something sweet. I still wouldn’t feel full so I’d have 1, 2, 3 glasses of pepsi. I was just starting to get full then, so I’d sit down and watch TV for a bit until bed. Every night, as I lay in bed, my wind whizzed with things I could say to them, or throw at them. I went to sleep and dreamed of moving schools, or even countries. Somehow though, they’d always worm themselves in. They hit me, and they punched me. They shouted abuse at me, and with every word I’d get smaller and smaller, until I was the size of a mouse. Then, laughing, they stood on me. 

Suddenly I awoke, and realised I was crying.  I picked up my phone and looked at the time. 6:17am. Better get up. I went through my usual morning routine: Get up, shower, have a small bowl of cereal (I wanted to lose weight after the usual night’s binging), get dressed, do my hair, and wait until I had to leave. They were calling me names as I got on the bus. Just the usual: Whore, fat, ugly, no-tits. They didn’t bother me anymore. I mean, you can’t use the same insults for 2 months straight. Really guys. The bus ride to school was okay actually. They threw a few pencils, but it didn’t bother me. School went as it usually does. Slow, and uneventful. It was on the way home that everything went downhill. 

It was cold, so I sat in the library on a computer and did homework. All the other people waiting to get my bus came in too. They were ignoring me; I felt uncomfortable. They whispered and laughed every so often. I looked at my phone. The bus would be here in 5 minutes. I logged off, grabbed my bags and left. They did the same, following me through the yard, to the front gates. The bus was already there, so I ran on and found a seat. I. was nervous. Why was I so nervous? They couldn’t do much to me here.. Right? They came up the stairs, laughing and glancing at me every so often.  
When the bus started, I heard a sudden laugh from behind me, then someone hissing ‘Sshhh, she’ll hear you!’
 I knew it. Today couldn’t have been good. I just knew it. About halfway through the journey, I felt someone throw a bottle at my head. Then another. Then something sharp. It really hurt. I turned around and saw someone about to throw a bottle. Being as stupid as I am, I didn’t turn back around. It hit me square in the nose. I wanted to cry, it really hurt! I decided just to turn around and hunch up in my seat. I wiped my eyes and put my head on the window. It stopped one part of my face hurting at least. Suddenly, someone was whispering my name behind me, with a giggle. I turned around to see Nicole. She smiled and stood up. Sitting next to me, she told Lauren and Molly to come and sit behind her. I just sat there looking at my shoes. 
Nicole noticed, and said, mockingly ‘Ooh, nice shoes Kate!’
 ‘Mm..’ I replied. 
‘Let’s have a look..’ She said, looking at them. 
She bent down and suddenly grabbed my feet. With a yank, she pulled them off and threw them down the bus. Then, they grabbed my bag and did the same. It was nearly my stop now, so I asked for them back. They laughed at me, and kept throwing them about. We were at the stop before mine. As we came up the road, they threw them more towards me. I thought they were giving them back until they opened the window.
 ‘DON’T!’ I screamed at them.
They weren’t listening. They dangled both my bag, and shoes out the window. As we were going round the corner, they let go. I ran down the stairs and heard the people on the bottom floor laughing at me. 
‘What the fuck?’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘She has no shoes on, tramp.’ And so on.
 I asked the driver if I could get off and he said yes, thank god. I ran off, going back round the corner. I saw my shoes, all flat and caked with mud from the tires, my bag the same. All my school stuff was on the floor, a little worse for wear, but nothing ripped at least. I quickly grabbed everything and took it to the side of the road. Putting it all back into my bag, and pulling my shoes on, I started the walk home. It always seemed longer when I was upset or angry or something. I started running, just wanting to get home. I was cold, tired, and crying. I did NOT want to be outside. I plugged my iPod in and started walking to the beat of whatever came on. It was natural. I couldn’t help it. Listening to the lyrics put me in an even more depressed mood. I started running home.

When I got in, I saw my mum sat on the sofa.  
She smiled and said ‘Don’t sit down, we need to go to the shops!’
I didn’t feel like going anywhere. I wanted to stay home. 
‘Can I just stay here? I don’t feel like going out. If that’s okay..’ I asked.
‘Yeah okay, I’ll take your brother, we’ll be back in a few minutes.’ She said, grabbing her bag.
I watched her leave and ran up the stairs, into the bathroom. Oh god, it was obvious I’d been crying. I stood back, and slumped down against the wall, crying my heart out. 

I stood up and wiped my face, catching sight of it out of the corner of my eye. So many people do it, say it helps. Why don’t I have a go? I picked it up, and bought it to my wrist. I dragged it across once, twice. It helped, in a sick and twisted way. I looked down, and saw two red lines across my right wrist. I smiled. Suddenly though, it started to hurt. A lot. I wanted to cry again but I couldn’t. It was really starting to hurt now, so I ran a load of lukewarm water into the sink. I stuck my wrist in, and watched the red float off. It helped, a bit. My wrist still hurt, though less so. I brought it out, and dried it with loo roll. It was still bleeding a little bit, but not much. I grabbed a blue towel, it wouldn’t show up on there, and pressed it to my wrist. After a few minutes, I pulled my wrist away from it. It had stopped bleeding. Looking at it closely, I saw the cuts weren’t very deep. That’s why it hadn’t bled much. I dried off my wrist and hands, and pulled my sleeves right down. I made sure my wrist wasn’t showing. Every time my sleeve brushed it, it stang a little. I didn’t mind. I wasn’t so upset now, if anything, a little bit happy. The emotional pain today had caused had numbed a little. 

I sat on the couch, and flipped the TV on. The news was on. My mum would be back in a minute, and I knew she’d want to watch it, so I left it on. It was quite interesting being honest. I sat there for a while, watching. When I heard my mums key in the door, I pulled my sleeves down again and ran to pick up some bags. We piled them onto the floor in the kitchen, and I put all the food away. Pulling my sleeves down once more, I went and sat on the couch. The evening carried on as normal.  I didn’t binge that night. 

School for the next 3 weeks was torture, as usual. I cut maybe 5 more times. It wasn’t always on my wrists, I didn’t want to make it obvious. It was the inside of my thighs, or little nicks on my hand. I did 99 scratches with the corners of rulers on my hands too. I always found ways to hide it. I was always falling over, so I could blame it on that. My thighs weren’t ever seen, so I didn’t have to hide those. I covered my wrists with make up; the cuts weren’t so obvious then. 

There was one bus trip that was awful, much worse than the rest. I got home early, as the bus left earlier on a Wednesday.  My mum was out somewhere. I ran up to the bathroom and cut. It was a bit deeper than usual. It hurt a lot more, but less than how much I hurt inside. I was crying as I cut. I could barely see. I only did it once; that was enough. It hurt so much. I put it in the water, as usual. As I took it out, I realised how stupid it was. My left wrist was bleeding. I was in a lot of pain, inside AND out. I was pathetic. Why did I even start doing it? I was out of my mind. Although, as much as it hurt, it helped. I’m pretty sure I was crazy. I realised what I was doing as I held the towel to it. I pressed down quite hard, so it would stop bleeding. I decided there and then that I was never going to do this again. I couldn’t cope with this pain again. Wiping the blood off with a baby wipe, I inspected it. It didn’t seem too bad. Maybe it was a little deeper than usual, but oh well.

Hold on. What was I saying? Usual?! I really was crazy. Usual made it sound like something normal. Like something everyone does. Like something everyday. This was going to stop now, and for good.  

For the next week or so, I struggled. The temptation was much worse when I knew that I couldn’t. The marks and cuts seemed more obvious too. I took more time piling the foundation on them. I made sure they were almost invisible. I was constantly paranoid someone would see them. I wanted to cut so much more. That week was one of the hardest of my life. The bullying at school and on the bus became so much worse. It would do, just my luck. Everything they said was 10x worse. Everything they threw hurt 10x more. Everytime they tripped me, I fell. I couldn’t stay balanced.

By the end of the the first week, I wanted to die. I wanted my nightmare to end. This seemed the only way out. My life was a living hell. Multiple times, I grabbed a packet of paracetamol or something. Staring at it, I decided no, not this time. I never had the balls to do it I guess. After a while, I gave up. I knew it was a stupid and pointless idea, I still had a life ahead of me. With the distraction of wanting to kill myself, I had completely forgotten about cutting. The temptation wasn’t so bad anymore. It only came when I was upset or angry, not just at any time, or whenever I saw a sharp object. 

By this point, we had 2 weeks until we broke up for the summer. I didn’t want to go back to that school after the summer. I told my mum this. We ended up having a huge conversation about it. About which school I would go to, if I was going back to school before moving etc. I told her I wasn’t going back to that school, nothing could make me. In the end, we decided on the school that my best friend went to. My mum was sceptical because it supposedly had a bad reputation. I don’t know what persuaded her in the end, but whatever it was, I’m glad I moved.

After the hell that was year 7, I was terrified to move schools. What if the people there hated me too? What if my best friend didn’t like me anymore? What if I got bullied? I knew I was being stupid, but the thought of such a drastic change terrified me.  Once I started, I realised that it wasn’t actually bad. It was in every way better than my old school. I made loads of friends, who I love dearly. I would do do anything for them. I’m still there now. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and there’s only a few things that could possibly improve on my life

No one knows that I used to cut. I guess this is my way of finally saying. My mum doesn’t know, but I suppose she will now. I needed to do this for me, not for anyone else.  To anyone who has ever thought of cutting, don’t. Its stupid, and you will regret it for the rest of your life. To anyone who does cut, stay strong. It will get better, and that’s a promise <3

1 comment:

  1. That is an amazingly brave post from a very intelligent young woman. I hope that life stays at least as happy for her as it is now - and that she carries on writing because she clearly has a lot of talent.