My Nineteen Years on Earth

Exactly six months ago I attempted, at the age of eighteen, to write my own book titled My Eighteen Years on Earth. I got half way through one chapter before I hit writer's block, and ultimately, gave up on my depressing novel. Since then I have regained the spark in which I had that first day I began my novel, and have decided to attempt my second try at a less depressing, but awfully truthful blog on how it is to live with depression starting from such a young age, and of course the usual teenage dramas.

The Beginning (of the End)

It hurt when I looked at him, he was the singular reason for which I found myself crying everyday. Hurting in insoluble ways that I thought not possible without dying, yes dramatic but true. What I thought was love was just a mixture of hate and obsession. I was dating a narcissist, an abusive one at that, not that I knew that then. Little was I to know he would break me in ways emotionally I wouldn't think possible. He would be the event in my life that would change my persona forever, and hopefully be the beginning of the end of this downward spiral.

Normal

Let's take it back five years earlier. Thirteen year old me crying, with three bottles of pills, she planned on taking.

Before we get into that, let me tell you a bit about my life, without being to boring. Age five, little me is taken from her parents in a custody battle, that her uncle wins as her mother is unfit to take care of her. Little me moves in with her brother, uncle and nan (who she loves more than anyone). Age seven, nan has a stroke & becomes bed bound. Age ten little me becomes big me and moves into secondary school, and that's when the fun begins.

School, where kids go to loose their self-esteem.

School was a hard time for me as it is for everyone. But unknown to my knowledge it would begin my descent into the deep depression that would have a hold on my life, till this day. At school, the start of year seven I remember I was happy, I'd had a rough few years but I was happy, and then shit happened. I was bullied, a lot of people experience this, but while some people can deal with it, others cannot. School was hell for me, add a year of crazy hormones, boys, peer pressure, and it becomes an honest nightmare. Secondary school, I can say was where it all began. where I truly became depressed without even realising what was happening to me.

Bullied

Being bullied and accused of things you don't even understand yet, for three years, takes it toll on a girl. Not having anyone to speak to about it, adds to the stress, kids making sure you're isolated from everyone around you, very nearly destroys you. I think what people fail to realise, is when we are so young, everything that we go through has an everlasting effect. There is such a nonchalant atmosphere around it, I think the usual reaction most of the time is "they're kids they'll get over it" "they'll bounce back" and I can tell you now they don't get over it. Only recently have I seen people take notice, and begin to do things to change it. But how sad it takes a child's suicide to inspire change.

I'm a strong believer in forgive but don't forget. I've forgiven but it took me a long time. I was hurting. I'd left my original school because of the bullying, however it continued in the next one, and the one after that. I wished hurtful things towards people who had wronged me. After being bullied for so long my personality changed, I was numb, I didn't care about anyone, I cried myself to sleep every night, truly believing the world was against me. Not understanding why I couldn't just fit in. This carried on for a long time.

I made numerous suicide attempts, pathetic ones, almost comical if it wasn't such a sad situation. Drowning myself, cutting, taking pills, I even remember sitting on my bed feeling utterly hopeless, whilst writing a suicide note. God knows how I managed to pull myself from those moments, but I did and I'm grateful to myself. As the years have gone by, one thing I have realised is that we will always have one person, and that person is ourselves. We are strong, and if you have ever attempted to harm yourself, but stopped yourself, please realise how much strength that takes.

My point is from when we are born, till the age of sixteen and eighteen, this is the foundation of our lives. People we meet at that age, continue to pop up in our lives over and over again. They are our first attachments, we grow up with them, meaning they become apart of us. And these experiences build our personality, so isn't it time, we take it a little more seriously.

I've never been one to blame my life on others. At a young age, yes I went through that stage. Everything was everyone else's fault, but I got over it quickly once I realised, it would get me nowhere.

I was what you'd call a troubled child, early memories of me kicking down my auntie's door because she wouldn't let me in. Screaming at my family, telling them how much I hated them. Destroying things in the house out of anger. Outbursts all the time. In fact I remember the exact time I realised I wasn't a normal kid. Because until then I honestly believed I was normal. I was in class and another teacher came in asking for me, because I had to see my councillor, and I realised normal kids don't need counsellors. It was a big moment for me, a "I should probably get my shit together" kinda moment you know? And I did, slowly of course.

I was still mentally fu**** , I hated everyone. Cried myself to sleep every night. Contemplated my next attempt at suicide. But I was just that little more... together. I know I was never normal, one of the reasons I found life so hard sometimes. Firstly I didn't relate to my family at all, none of them finished school and went to college, females in my family had never worked, with the exception of my nan. I wanted to do something with my life. Secondly I had no interest in what anyone my age did, social media and vanity I didn't care for it. Give me a good book and a tree to sit under and I was happy.

As I got older I realised more and more how much of an outcast I was. I did have friends, don't get me wrong, but usual teenage life involves gossiping about one another which was something I couldn't stand, as my love for my friends was genuine. So I stayed away from that, only to realise they didn't think as I did (another big moment for me); it hurt. Turned me into a bit of bitch, an isolated bitch who would find it extremely difficult to make friends, and that ladies and gentlemen is where the anxiety began.

Now I can't describe what it's like to stand outside of a classroom and have a crippling fear of simply walking inside and taking a seat. Being scared of everyone looking at you, I don't have this feeling anymore, in fact I'm extremely confident, so thinking back to how I was then terrifies me. That people had got to me so much, walking into a room was hard. Standing up in a crowded seating area was such an issue, I'd stay seated until someone else got up. Sh** was crazy. I had no confidence. Another problem that came with my anxiety was how I came across, I came across rude, because I didn't speak to people. However I wasn't being rude I was just terrified and insecure. At the time I had no-one to speak to, it was a truly isolating feeling. But I was to proud to ask for help, I'd grown up looking after myself so I figured screw everyone else, I'm on my own. But it doesn't always have to be like that.

My social interactions with friends are the only thing that keep me going.

I cannot even begin to explain the importance of friendship. I quit my job three weeks ago, as I write this blog I'm in the middle of an " episode" which is what I've come to call them. I haven't left my bed in a week and half. Only getting up to do the basics like going to the toilet, brushing my teeth when I have to. I quit my job because of my thoughts. I know! Sounds stupid right, but for a person like me, and everyone who suffers with depression, our thoughts become our demons, negativity becomes us. The worst part? You don't always realise it while it's happening.

Work got harder for me due to certain things, and with that, stress, then the doubting, then my thoughts turned from the positive ones my medication had allowed me, back to the black poison of negativity. And the only thing through out that time that gave me any hope, was my one friend. The one friend I had who understood what I was going through as he would occasionally have his " episodes" and guide me through the dungeons of my mind. A firm slap on the wrist when I dabbled to far into the darkness. With every ounce of me I can say, he has pulled me from the pools of my suicidal thoughts. Our usual phone conversations go a little like this: "Babe I'm doing it again I don't have the energy to do anything, I feel so depressed."

Him: "Girl you a bad bi***, you'll get your shit together, take time to gather yourself, relax forget you pressures and remember you have me." Okay maybe it's not the ideal response for everyone but as my best friend of seven years what can I say, he knows what gets me going. But what I'm trying to say is, if you don't have that friend, reach out to someone, if you do, hell, hold on to them like the universe depends on it because as hard as it is to say, they might just be your saviour in a time of need. As an extremely independent girl that finds it hard to ask for help, I understand it can be hard to stretch that olive branch but I gotta say, in a few years time I put my life on it, it'll be worth it. Anyway that ends my first blog of many, I'll be back ( hopefully) with more... thoughts I guess.

I'm Not a Writer

I'm not a writer (but I do write) so I can't bring all my words together and at the end you're looking at a pretty puzzle, that with all the missing pieces now put together, make perfect sense. My brain isn't straight forward, it's a mess, so what I write will not be perfect. But as I write all I hope to achieve is to give a perspective. A teenage girl in London & the pressures that so many kids including I, go through. How it feels to be unheard. Hopefully one person will see this mess and perhaps think, thank f*** I'm not alone, and to them it'll make sense.

More blogs, not sure about what yet however.