I had a MASSIVE tantrum at work yesterday for no good reason ~ I stood at the back door and shouted and swore because some pillock had blocked me into the car park and I wanted to go home. Finally I got out and as I drove I realised that my anxiety levels have been steadily rising over the last few weeks, to the extent that the dreaded panic attacks feel too close for comfort.
So I sat and had a think; over the last 10 months my life has done another complete about face ~ I've gone from being a Lettings Negotiator and single Mum to being a Manager running a company and back in a relationship with a man who had been lost to me for years ~ the man who made me realise how empty my soul has been for 7 years. This is, of course, all good news but brings with it its own set of issues I now realise.
My sleep pattern is shot, my appetite is flaky and you don't even want to think about my libido ~ actually neither do I! I am at my desk by 8.15 and I have forgotten what a lunch break is, I deal with idiots on a daily basis and spend too much time trying to solve other peoples problems, whilst ignoring my own. I suspect my kids have gone feral and when Himself (as he is now known) and I get together at the weekend I spend far too much time slumped on the sofa trying to stay awake.
Anxiety is a way of life and since my breakdown I have always been prone to it, but now it has gone too far and now I know this I intend to take immediate action.
Much as I love Social Media it is currently not a good thing for me ~ too much information to process and too much to get anxious about; so I am taking a break from it. I intend to immerse myself in a long list of books I have and maybe even take a day or two off work and just.. well.. relax..
So, I'm not disappearing I am just retreating for a while. Time to breathe and spend time with the kids and in the garden, coaxing seedlings into life and attacking the grass with a machete. Time, in short, to enjoy being Nicki again.
See you on the other side of mental.
Thursday, 13 March 2014
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
All Change.. And that's just me...
It's strange when you start your day as one person and end it as someone else.. And that is what's happened to me today.. I started off as usual, good old Nicki, Mother, Estate Agent and Ex-Nutter and I am ending it as, well, not Nicki ~ a child who was lost before she was born..
If you have read my blog you will already be familiar with my story of whether or not to follow up on my adoption. It was never important enough to warrant my time and effort, my Mum and Dad were my parents and that was that quite frankly.
But as I have taken small,tentative steps towards finding out then my curiousity has been piqued and I was recently informed that my birth records were now available and would I like to have access to them? No brainer alert, I AM female after all...
So I went, dragging my faithful friend Pam with me ~ oh and the tissues, not that I would need them of course..
And so I read all about myself; How I was born to a woman who already had one illegitimate child, a boy of 2, and felt she couldn't cope with another one. She was organised enough to make all the arrangements herself, leaving her child with her own Mother she moved across country to an unmarried mothers home in the Midlands, and once I was born she wrote letters to the authorities asking for me to be taken away so she could get back to her son.. Yep, that stung.
I was transferred to "The Convent" which was the place that babies went after they were given up, in the care of nuns from the Bon Secours Order. I was there for a month before my new parents came to see me and take me to their home and family.
So, there we have it ~ my initial thoughts on today. I have no doubt that my opinion will change over the next few days, I am aware that my reaction may seem judgemental and harsh, but Hey, it's my blog..
For now I will say that Nicki is still alive and well, but little Elizabeth Anne is flexing her newly aquired wings and may well yet surprise us all...
If you have read my blog you will already be familiar with my story of whether or not to follow up on my adoption. It was never important enough to warrant my time and effort, my Mum and Dad were my parents and that was that quite frankly.
But as I have taken small,tentative steps towards finding out then my curiousity has been piqued and I was recently informed that my birth records were now available and would I like to have access to them? No brainer alert, I AM female after all...
So I went, dragging my faithful friend Pam with me ~ oh and the tissues, not that I would need them of course..
And so I read all about myself; How I was born to a woman who already had one illegitimate child, a boy of 2, and felt she couldn't cope with another one. She was organised enough to make all the arrangements herself, leaving her child with her own Mother she moved across country to an unmarried mothers home in the Midlands, and once I was born she wrote letters to the authorities asking for me to be taken away so she could get back to her son.. Yep, that stung.
I was transferred to "The Convent" which was the place that babies went after they were given up, in the care of nuns from the Bon Secours Order. I was there for a month before my new parents came to see me and take me to their home and family.
So, there we have it ~ my initial thoughts on today. I have no doubt that my opinion will change over the next few days, I am aware that my reaction may seem judgemental and harsh, but Hey, it's my blog..
For now I will say that Nicki is still alive and well, but little Elizabeth Anne is flexing her newly aquired wings and may well yet surprise us all...
Tuesday, 21 May 2013
Life's a Bitch and then you become one..
I don't write much about my work, mainly due to the fact that, as an Estate Agent, I normally expect to be hung, drawn and quartered by simply mentioning what I do. However the Lettings business is rather to the forefront of the news at the moment, what with the changes in benefits and the supposed tightening of regulations within the industry ~ and I thought it was time to write something from "our" side.
The company I work for deals mainly with lettings ~ and in a town such as the one in which I work this can involve an extremely varied client base. The majority of our clients don't work and are therefore in receipt of Housing Benefit and if I am honest, we break them into 2 sets ~ The Non Scrotes and the Scrotes.
There is no need for me to describe the Non Scrotes ~ they are nice, normal people who neither cause problems, nor get involved in them. We like these tenants.
The Scrotes are the tenants who make me want to go and live in the Outer Hebrides on a Goat Farm. They lie, they cheat and they cause us problems. They think nothing of falling behind on their rent, and invariably vacate properties leaving a trail of debts and broken promises. But we aren't supposed to mind because, well, that's our job isn't it?
My job is, theoretically, to rent out decent houses to decent people, but this doesn't always happen. Landlords think nothing of giving us houses that no self respecting rat would live in, and then scream blue murder when we don't find them a tenant instantly. I even asked a landlord once whether he would consider living in a house that leaked like a sieve, had vermin in the yard and damp blossoming on every surface ~ he was horrified "Of course I wouldn't, I'm not stupid" he said ~ I silently handed him photos of the house he has described as a "palace" and said, "well, maybe you should do some repairs".
On the other hand, tenants come in demanding 4 bedrooms, en suite, garden and garage parking for under £500 per month "Or maybe more, the housing are paying y'see" and when we ask them to pay the first months rent up front (Housing Benefit pay in arrears) they look at you as though you are insulting their first born.
I even had a chap stagger into the office the other day (leaving the door open, always nice when you're on a main road) and say.. "Do I have to have a job to get a house?"..
Or the woman who posted on Facebook that "she didn't wanna be payin no stupid fees and rent" ~ we don't run a charity Love, we run a business..
Anyway, if anyone wants a job in the Lettings business... Try being a traffic warden for 6 months and if you can hack it then start sending your C.V ~ but not to me OK? I'll be in the Outer Hebrides with the goats...
The company I work for deals mainly with lettings ~ and in a town such as the one in which I work this can involve an extremely varied client base. The majority of our clients don't work and are therefore in receipt of Housing Benefit and if I am honest, we break them into 2 sets ~ The Non Scrotes and the Scrotes.
There is no need for me to describe the Non Scrotes ~ they are nice, normal people who neither cause problems, nor get involved in them. We like these tenants.
The Scrotes are the tenants who make me want to go and live in the Outer Hebrides on a Goat Farm. They lie, they cheat and they cause us problems. They think nothing of falling behind on their rent, and invariably vacate properties leaving a trail of debts and broken promises. But we aren't supposed to mind because, well, that's our job isn't it?
My job is, theoretically, to rent out decent houses to decent people, but this doesn't always happen. Landlords think nothing of giving us houses that no self respecting rat would live in, and then scream blue murder when we don't find them a tenant instantly. I even asked a landlord once whether he would consider living in a house that leaked like a sieve, had vermin in the yard and damp blossoming on every surface ~ he was horrified "Of course I wouldn't, I'm not stupid" he said ~ I silently handed him photos of the house he has described as a "palace" and said, "well, maybe you should do some repairs".
On the other hand, tenants come in demanding 4 bedrooms, en suite, garden and garage parking for under £500 per month "Or maybe more, the housing are paying y'see" and when we ask them to pay the first months rent up front (Housing Benefit pay in arrears) they look at you as though you are insulting their first born.
I even had a chap stagger into the office the other day (leaving the door open, always nice when you're on a main road) and say.. "Do I have to have a job to get a house?"..
Or the woman who posted on Facebook that "she didn't wanna be payin no stupid fees and rent" ~ we don't run a charity Love, we run a business..
Anyway, if anyone wants a job in the Lettings business... Try being a traffic warden for 6 months and if you can hack it then start sending your C.V ~ but not to me OK? I'll be in the Outer Hebrides with the goats...
Tuesday, 19 February 2013
The Big C
I lost a friend today to cancer ~ a friend with whom contact had become sporadic since I moved away, but a friend none the less, our daughters were mates and we wasted many an hour at childrens parties sniggering and gossiping. She and I weren't part of the
establishment, the Mummy Mafia, and so a lot of our sniggering was done about the absurdities of that clique.
I have done a lot of soul baring on this Blog ~ such a lot, in fact that I recently got an award for it ~ but this has made me pause for thought. There are now 3 kids and their Dad flung into the abyss of pain and loss that follows such a death, and beyond the usual condolences and visits there is nothing I, or anyone else, can do to help stop their pain. And that, to coin a phrase, pains me.. She was such a free spirit, a one off, that none of the conventional options seem at all appropriate.
So I think I shall go up to the local Reservoir and throw some petals to the wind ~ and watch as they dance in the breeze and flutter away, and while they do that I shall mentally raise a glass to her amazing spirit, which is now free to dance and play with no more suffering.
Good Night my friend, sleep easy xx
establishment, the Mummy Mafia, and so a lot of our sniggering was done about the absurdities of that clique.
I have done a lot of soul baring on this Blog ~ such a lot, in fact that I recently got an award for it ~ but this has made me pause for thought. There are now 3 kids and their Dad flung into the abyss of pain and loss that follows such a death, and beyond the usual condolences and visits there is nothing I, or anyone else, can do to help stop their pain. And that, to coin a phrase, pains me.. She was such a free spirit, a one off, that none of the conventional options seem at all appropriate.
So I think I shall go up to the local Reservoir and throw some petals to the wind ~ and watch as they dance in the breeze and flutter away, and while they do that I shall mentally raise a glass to her amazing spirit, which is now free to dance and play with no more suffering.
Good Night my friend, sleep easy xx
Thursday, 31 January 2013
GUEST BLOG ~ The Youth of Today Part 2
After I stopped self harming, I became suicidal as I’ve said previously. It was the worst few months of my life, and some of the hardest.
It started with just wanting to die. Maybe not even that. I wanted to not have to exist with the bitches that were ruining my life. It stayed like that for a while, content with just being that. That was while I was self harming. Wanting to die and self harming almost go hand in hand.
After I stopped, this want to not exist intensified. I wasn’t that I wanted to not exist, it was that I wanted to die. To never have existed. To be forgotten.
One day after school, I got off the school bus at the corner, where tesco was. I went in with some money I had from lunch, as I hadn’t wanted to eat that day. I’d saved it with this thought in mind. I went round to the medicines, and picked up a packet of paracetamol. Terrified they wouldn’t let me buy it, I went up to the counter. All I can remember feeling was relief as they cashier said ‘£1 please’. I handed the money over and practically ran out the shop. I started running properly as I got onto the road. I had to stop though when I was at the bottom of my hill, I was so out of breath. Damn being unfit.
‘Hello?’ I shouted as I walked in.
My mum was out. Hm. Okay. A sudden calm overtook me as I walked up the stairs and into my room. I put the paracetamol under my pillow, and walked back downstairs. Sitting on the couch, I decided I would do it tonight. I didn’t want to live any longer.
The constant battle inside of me as whether to cut myself or not was taking over my life. I’d see a pair of scissors in school and focus completely on not cutting myself. All I wanted to do was open the scissor blades, and drag them across my wrist. When I wasn’t focusing on not cutting myself, I was focusing on the bullying, which was progressively worse by the day.
That night, after I’d heard my mum go to bed, I grabbed my packet of pills and crept downstairs. I had written a note to my mum, my brother, my dad, and my sister telling them how much I loved them. I would have written one to my friends, but at that point, I didn’t feel I had any. Even my best friend seemed to start losing interest in me. I grabbed a glass of water and went back upstairs. Sat up in bed, I looked at the packet of pills. I stared at them for a long time. That’s the last thing I can remember.
Ting a ling ling ling
Ting a ling ling ling
What? My alarm? I opened my eyes. I was sat up in bed, with my tablets on my knee. Oh. I hadn’t done it.
Ting a ling ling ling
Ting a ling ling ling
Grabbing the note which was on my bed side table, I stood up. I put the note in the top of my wardrobe and turned my alarm off. Well, time for another day in hell.
‘OMG, ask him out!’
‘Do it babe’
‘He SOOO likes you!’
Just another typical conversation on the second bus trip of the day.
‘Um, Nicole, it’s your stop’ said Lauren
‘Oh crap, k, bye, love you girls!’ Nicole replied.
I watched her get out of her seat and wander up the bus. She looked at me.
‘What the FUCK do you think you’re looking at, state on you!’ She shouted at me, the whole bus going silent.
‘Um, nothing..’ I mumbled back.
‘Whatever.’ She laughed.
I saw her hand coming towards my face. The entire world seemed to go into slow motion. Her hand collided with my face, pushing it back towards the bus window. I started falling backwards, my head bouncing off the window. It hit her hand and bounced back, on to the window. My head stayed there this time.
The whole world sped up again, but it was a bit quick now. Nicole got off the bus, and laughed at me. All I could hear was a loud ringing, and all I could feel was a massive pain in the back of my head. I touched my scalp where it hurt, and when I pulled my fingers away, I saw it was bleeding a little. Being the classy bird I am, I stuck my middle finger up at her through the window. I was going to regret that in the morning. Before I knew it, I was at my stop and getting off the bus. In a daze, I wandered up the hill, and round the corner. I stopped at the end of my road. Pulling a tissue out my pocket, I dabbed the back of my head. It had stopped bleeding and had only bled a little, but my hair was sticky.
I walked up my road, after having pulled myself together.
As I got in, I shouted to my mum ‘I’m going for a shower!’
‘Alright, don’t be long.’ She shouted back.
I went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. I got in and put shampoo in my hair. It stung. A lot. After washing that out, I conditioned. I had to wash it out quickly as that got stung too. I noticed that I’d only been in the shower 5 minutes when I got out. Record time.
Wrapping a towel round me, I went into my room and got into my pj’s. It may be a friday night, but I wasn’t cool enough to go out anywhere, and I didn’t have any friends to chill with. I felt so much better after my shower.
‘Blimey O Riley, that was quick!’ Laughed my mum as I walked into the lounge.
I stuck my tongue out at her and sat down. I’d brought my towel with my to wrap around my dripping hair. The evening went on as it usually did: eat tea, do homework, watch tv, go to bed. It wasn’t strange or out of the ordinary. At 9, I said goodnight to my mum. I walked up the stairs and got into bed. As I lay there, I started crying. I knew why I was so content earlier. I knew why I was crying now. Tonight was the night I was to kill myself, and I was going to do it properly this time.
As last time, I waited until my mum had gone to bed, and got my water. I went upstairs and put the note on my bedside table. Calmly, I popped out 2 tablets for the headache. I took them. Then, I popped out 1 tablet for the marks on my arm, and a final for good luck I guess. I took them all and lay down on my pillow, eyes streaming with tears.
‘I love you mummy, daddy, I love you too. Don’t forget me James, nor you Becky. I love you all.’ I whispered into the dark.
I fell asleep, hopefully never to wake up again.
I woke up, feeling sick. Covered in it too by the smell of it. My quilt was down the end of my bed, and I was shivering. I was about to pull it over me when I felt like I was about to vomit all over myself, again.. I stood up and ran to the loo, being sick just as I stuck my head over the bowl. I realised then I’d not yet opened my eyes. When I opened them, I wished I hadn’t. The contents of the loo, my pj’s and the floor around the toilet was bright green. Mm. Attractive. I sunk to the floor, into my vomit. I didn’t care anymore. I failed at everything. Why can’t I just NOT fail at this one thing. That was all I asked. I look at my phone, which I’d grabbed on the way out. It was 2:01am. Yay. I put my head on the loo seat, and fell asleep.
I woke up again at around half 3 in the morning. I think it was the smell that had woken me up. If I didn’t do something about it soon, I might just wake everyone else up too. Flushing the loo and standing up, I took my pj’s off. I started to run a bath. Then, I took a scrubber, and put water on it. I had to clean this sick up. It was bright green for gods sake! By the time the bath had enough water in it, the only evidence of vomit was the stuff on my pj’s, which I dunked in the bath water. I grabbed some soap, and started scrubbing them down. They were only thin, so they didn’t take long. I hung them out on the radiator. By this time, it was nearly half 4, and was shattered. Wandering back into my room, I fell into bed. I had just enough time to throw my tablets and note down the back of my table before I fell asleep.
‘LIV! Liv! Are you okay? You look really pale.’ said my mum.
‘Uh, not really.’ I said after a while ‘I was sick quite badly during the night.’
‘Oh no.. That’d explain the pyjamas on the radiator. Do you want to stay home today? You look shattered.’ she asked, stroking my head.
‘Yep.’ I told her.
‘Okay darling, well I’ll be downstairs if you need me. You go back to sleep, alright?’
‘Mm hm’
I rolled over and fell straight back asleep.
I was sick three more times during the day, but it wasn’t green thank god. I stayed in bed all day, only venturing out to the bathroom to get water or be sick. I slept through the night too. Surprisingly, I felt fine the next day, and I only had a small headache. I went to school the next day, yay..
The next few says were okay. They only called me names. I still had the underlying want to kill myself, but it wasn’t so prominent . It was only when they started again that it came back.
There was one bad day that I wanted to kill myself more than ever before. I got off the bus and walked up the road a bit to a busy part. Then, I stepped out into the road. There was a car coming. I stood there and waited. Suddenly, I was pulled out of the road, and onto the pavement where I landed with a bump. Looking up, I saw a stranger staring down at me.
‘What were you doing?!’ she yelled at me.
I just stood up and ran away. I felt as if death was cheating me. Somehow surviving every time.
I gave up after that. 2 failed attempts and being to scared to even try disheartened me. I’m glad that stranger saved me. I don’t know who they are or why they saved me, but I would like to thank them one day. They saved my life and that means everything to me.
It started with just wanting to die. Maybe not even that. I wanted to not have to exist with the bitches that were ruining my life. It stayed like that for a while, content with just being that. That was while I was self harming. Wanting to die and self harming almost go hand in hand.
After I stopped, this want to not exist intensified. I wasn’t that I wanted to not exist, it was that I wanted to die. To never have existed. To be forgotten.
One day after school, I got off the school bus at the corner, where tesco was. I went in with some money I had from lunch, as I hadn’t wanted to eat that day. I’d saved it with this thought in mind. I went round to the medicines, and picked up a packet of paracetamol. Terrified they wouldn’t let me buy it, I went up to the counter. All I can remember feeling was relief as they cashier said ‘£1 please’. I handed the money over and practically ran out the shop. I started running properly as I got onto the road. I had to stop though when I was at the bottom of my hill, I was so out of breath. Damn being unfit.
‘Hello?’ I shouted as I walked in.
My mum was out. Hm. Okay. A sudden calm overtook me as I walked up the stairs and into my room. I put the paracetamol under my pillow, and walked back downstairs. Sitting on the couch, I decided I would do it tonight. I didn’t want to live any longer.
The constant battle inside of me as whether to cut myself or not was taking over my life. I’d see a pair of scissors in school and focus completely on not cutting myself. All I wanted to do was open the scissor blades, and drag them across my wrist. When I wasn’t focusing on not cutting myself, I was focusing on the bullying, which was progressively worse by the day.
That night, after I’d heard my mum go to bed, I grabbed my packet of pills and crept downstairs. I had written a note to my mum, my brother, my dad, and my sister telling them how much I loved them. I would have written one to my friends, but at that point, I didn’t feel I had any. Even my best friend seemed to start losing interest in me. I grabbed a glass of water and went back upstairs. Sat up in bed, I looked at the packet of pills. I stared at them for a long time. That’s the last thing I can remember.
Ting a ling ling ling
Ting a ling ling ling
What? My alarm? I opened my eyes. I was sat up in bed, with my tablets on my knee. Oh. I hadn’t done it.
Ting a ling ling ling
Ting a ling ling ling
Grabbing the note which was on my bed side table, I stood up. I put the note in the top of my wardrobe and turned my alarm off. Well, time for another day in hell.
‘OMG, ask him out!’
‘Do it babe’
‘He SOOO likes you!’
Just another typical conversation on the second bus trip of the day.
‘Um, Nicole, it’s your stop’ said Lauren
‘Oh crap, k, bye, love you girls!’ Nicole replied.
I watched her get out of her seat and wander up the bus. She looked at me.
‘What the FUCK do you think you’re looking at, state on you!’ She shouted at me, the whole bus going silent.
‘Um, nothing..’ I mumbled back.
‘Whatever.’ She laughed.
I saw her hand coming towards my face. The entire world seemed to go into slow motion. Her hand collided with my face, pushing it back towards the bus window. I started falling backwards, my head bouncing off the window. It hit her hand and bounced back, on to the window. My head stayed there this time.
The whole world sped up again, but it was a bit quick now. Nicole got off the bus, and laughed at me. All I could hear was a loud ringing, and all I could feel was a massive pain in the back of my head. I touched my scalp where it hurt, and when I pulled my fingers away, I saw it was bleeding a little. Being the classy bird I am, I stuck my middle finger up at her through the window. I was going to regret that in the morning. Before I knew it, I was at my stop and getting off the bus. In a daze, I wandered up the hill, and round the corner. I stopped at the end of my road. Pulling a tissue out my pocket, I dabbed the back of my head. It had stopped bleeding and had only bled a little, but my hair was sticky.
I walked up my road, after having pulled myself together.
As I got in, I shouted to my mum ‘I’m going for a shower!’
‘Alright, don’t be long.’ She shouted back.
I went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. I got in and put shampoo in my hair. It stung. A lot. After washing that out, I conditioned. I had to wash it out quickly as that got stung too. I noticed that I’d only been in the shower 5 minutes when I got out. Record time.
Wrapping a towel round me, I went into my room and got into my pj’s. It may be a friday night, but I wasn’t cool enough to go out anywhere, and I didn’t have any friends to chill with. I felt so much better after my shower.
‘Blimey O Riley, that was quick!’ Laughed my mum as I walked into the lounge.
I stuck my tongue out at her and sat down. I’d brought my towel with my to wrap around my dripping hair. The evening went on as it usually did: eat tea, do homework, watch tv, go to bed. It wasn’t strange or out of the ordinary. At 9, I said goodnight to my mum. I walked up the stairs and got into bed. As I lay there, I started crying. I knew why I was so content earlier. I knew why I was crying now. Tonight was the night I was to kill myself, and I was going to do it properly this time.
As last time, I waited until my mum had gone to bed, and got my water. I went upstairs and put the note on my bedside table. Calmly, I popped out 2 tablets for the headache. I took them. Then, I popped out 1 tablet for the marks on my arm, and a final for good luck I guess. I took them all and lay down on my pillow, eyes streaming with tears.
‘I love you mummy, daddy, I love you too. Don’t forget me James, nor you Becky. I love you all.’ I whispered into the dark.
I fell asleep, hopefully never to wake up again.
I woke up, feeling sick. Covered in it too by the smell of it. My quilt was down the end of my bed, and I was shivering. I was about to pull it over me when I felt like I was about to vomit all over myself, again.. I stood up and ran to the loo, being sick just as I stuck my head over the bowl. I realised then I’d not yet opened my eyes. When I opened them, I wished I hadn’t. The contents of the loo, my pj’s and the floor around the toilet was bright green. Mm. Attractive. I sunk to the floor, into my vomit. I didn’t care anymore. I failed at everything. Why can’t I just NOT fail at this one thing. That was all I asked. I look at my phone, which I’d grabbed on the way out. It was 2:01am. Yay. I put my head on the loo seat, and fell asleep.
I woke up again at around half 3 in the morning. I think it was the smell that had woken me up. If I didn’t do something about it soon, I might just wake everyone else up too. Flushing the loo and standing up, I took my pj’s off. I started to run a bath. Then, I took a scrubber, and put water on it. I had to clean this sick up. It was bright green for gods sake! By the time the bath had enough water in it, the only evidence of vomit was the stuff on my pj’s, which I dunked in the bath water. I grabbed some soap, and started scrubbing them down. They were only thin, so they didn’t take long. I hung them out on the radiator. By this time, it was nearly half 4, and was shattered. Wandering back into my room, I fell into bed. I had just enough time to throw my tablets and note down the back of my table before I fell asleep.
‘LIV! Liv! Are you okay? You look really pale.’ said my mum.
‘Uh, not really.’ I said after a while ‘I was sick quite badly during the night.’
‘Oh no.. That’d explain the pyjamas on the radiator. Do you want to stay home today? You look shattered.’ she asked, stroking my head.
‘Yep.’ I told her.
‘Okay darling, well I’ll be downstairs if you need me. You go back to sleep, alright?’
‘Mm hm’
I rolled over and fell straight back asleep.
I was sick three more times during the day, but it wasn’t green thank god. I stayed in bed all day, only venturing out to the bathroom to get water or be sick. I slept through the night too. Surprisingly, I felt fine the next day, and I only had a small headache. I went to school the next day, yay..
The next few says were okay. They only called me names. I still had the underlying want to kill myself, but it wasn’t so prominent . It was only when they started again that it came back.
There was one bad day that I wanted to kill myself more than ever before. I got off the bus and walked up the road a bit to a busy part. Then, I stepped out into the road. There was a car coming. I stood there and waited. Suddenly, I was pulled out of the road, and onto the pavement where I landed with a bump. Looking up, I saw a stranger staring down at me.
‘What were you doing?!’ she yelled at me.
I just stood up and ran away. I felt as if death was cheating me. Somehow surviving every time.
I gave up after that. 2 failed attempts and being to scared to even try disheartened me. I’m glad that stranger saved me. I don’t know who they are or why they saved me, but I would like to thank them one day. They saved my life and that means everything to me.
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..
‘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
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
Wednesday, 23 January 2013
New Year, New Start.. Yeah RIGHT..
So, I have just realised I haven't indulged in a litany of misery since October ~ and I know there must be a whole heap of you thinking "And Thank God for THAT".. but I am back and with, I think, a slight change of theme!
In the past I have used this blog as a kind of cathartic outpouring, and that has been very necessary for my mental health and wellbeing, but now I feel I need to move forward if for no other reason that even I am a bit sick of being a misery..
So let's have a quick update shall we?? Since we last spoke I have changed jobs, moved house, got a new car (necessary when the last one turned out to be a ringer and was seized by the police ~ oh yes..) and survived Christmas, not a bad set of achievements for me. I am a tiny bit proud of still being in a semi-normal frame of mind a couple of months down the line, despite various things going wrong and the fact I am out of happy pills because I need to change doctor and have so far completely failed to do so!!
So after 3 moves in 3 years I feel qualified to provide you with the ADHD guide to moving house..
1) Find a new house, get thoroughly over exited about the idea of a fresh start ~ miraculously forgetting you thought that last time.
2) Develop a set of grandiose plans involving the new house which will involve an influx of cash (no, I don't know where it would come from either)
3) Decide firmly that THIS time there will be no collections of crap in cupboards/on surfaces etc etc.
4) Plan merrily for a crap free future, the house will be the same as all my friends as opposed to teetering on the brink of chaos.
5) Conveniently forget that moving house involves more than packing up the glasses cupboard.
6) Get taken into hospital the weekend you are supposed to be moving.
7) Get let down by the van man 3 days before moving.
8) End up taking 4 days to move, crying a lot and realising you don't have any curtain poles.
9) Open a bottle..
See? Piece of cake...
I'll take bookings by email, Thanks..
In the past I have used this blog as a kind of cathartic outpouring, and that has been very necessary for my mental health and wellbeing, but now I feel I need to move forward if for no other reason that even I am a bit sick of being a misery..
So let's have a quick update shall we?? Since we last spoke I have changed jobs, moved house, got a new car (necessary when the last one turned out to be a ringer and was seized by the police ~ oh yes..) and survived Christmas, not a bad set of achievements for me. I am a tiny bit proud of still being in a semi-normal frame of mind a couple of months down the line, despite various things going wrong and the fact I am out of happy pills because I need to change doctor and have so far completely failed to do so!!
So after 3 moves in 3 years I feel qualified to provide you with the ADHD guide to moving house..
1) Find a new house, get thoroughly over exited about the idea of a fresh start ~ miraculously forgetting you thought that last time.
2) Develop a set of grandiose plans involving the new house which will involve an influx of cash (no, I don't know where it would come from either)
3) Decide firmly that THIS time there will be no collections of crap in cupboards/on surfaces etc etc.
4) Plan merrily for a crap free future, the house will be the same as all my friends as opposed to teetering on the brink of chaos.
5) Conveniently forget that moving house involves more than packing up the glasses cupboard.
6) Get taken into hospital the weekend you are supposed to be moving.
7) Get let down by the van man 3 days before moving.
8) End up taking 4 days to move, crying a lot and realising you don't have any curtain poles.
9) Open a bottle..
See? Piece of cake...
I'll take bookings by email, Thanks..
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