Becoming an Adult

The day we become an adult is not the day we turn eighteen, but the day we get our last exam result, and then think “well – now what?” Most of my friends are going to university (some going to extremely high-ranked ones) so they have a little bit of a layout for their life (not much, but at least enough for the next few years) and some even know where they intend to go with their life. They have it all planned out.

But not everybody does. Not everybody knows where their life is going to lead them.

One of the most stressful questions to hear, as someone who suffers from anxiety and depression, is “what are you going to do now?” They mean well but it makes me think about the future and where I’m going and where I’m not going and what’s happening and what’s not happening and — you get the picture. It’s terrifying.

I got good results, results I was happy with, but I happen to be friends with geniuses, which often makes me feel like less of a person too, even though they’re wonderful and I’m happy for them. I just happened to pick up smart friends. I guess I must be the dumb friend, to them, if you think about it. So I’m worried about my results too.

I worry about whether my life has a direction but I don’t want it to, yet I do, all at once. I want to study a degree but I don’t, all at once. I don’t want to be a drifter, I want to be a sailor! But I can’t be. I will never be a sailor, no matter how hard I try to control my ship; it will crash and I will drift on one piece of wood left.

I want to become something, but I don’t.

I’m never going to be what people expect me to be, or rather, what they want me to be. I’m not going to be what I want to be either. Because I will never be strong enough to sail. I just won’t be.

Lia

A-Levels: Mental Health

I’ve been struggling with the stress of a-levels for a long time now and then I realised: my mental health should come first. Having suffered with depression and anxiety for a long time, I was back into a cycle I couldn’t get out of when I started my second year. The constant change of creative writing teacher certainly didn’t help. Now, I might only be doing one a-level soon. I know, I know, only one!? It’s because I’ve been having a lot of anxiety attacks recently and we’ve been talking to the college about the stress.

You guys have to remember that, although good grades would be nice, you shouldn’t let them be harmful to your mental health.You matter and you will get through this. I believe in you! However stressful a-levels are, they will be done one day. Just remember that. Especially if you have had mental health problems in the past, I would speak to people about what the best course of action is for you. They can help you by breaking the work down or referring you to counselling or whatever you need. Just reach out if it’s all getting too much. People do care.

🙂

Lia

Again?!

Today, I found out that yet another teacher has quit us, though this time it was after only one lesson (what a record!). When I messaged Rose to tell her of it, she didn’t believe me because it was so ridiculous. She’d been ill so hadn’t come in, thus was very unconvinced. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been messing around.

I used to be ashamed of my autism, upon my diagnosis, wanting to hide it and never telling anyone about it but, then, when I realised that teachers who knew about my condition started treating me differently… I felt like I didn’t want to be different, but that I had to be. I wasn’t like everyone else and I had to accept that. So, now that I’ve accepted my diagnosis, I understand what aspects of it affect me. Change is a big one, and I’ve already done a post on it which you can find here. After struggling with so many teachers leaving, I was told that this one would stay. Nope.

It’s just really upsetting for me and I almost want to just drop out but I know that my parents would get a fine if I did, so I can’t. I have to put up with it. This isn’t something anyone should have to go through (especially when the college gets Ofsted outstanding!!!), but it is especially difficult for people with my condition and I am just not gonna do well this year at all.

I’ve been so sad today and they don’t seem to see how this affects my mental state as well as my education. It’s honestly ridiculous and I wish I could just have not done Creative Writing (my dream course) at all because, although I love writing, this course is so messed up that it’s just destroying me, to be honest. The constant change of teachers, the teachers who we do have not knowing anything, I just can’t deal with it. I wish I could but I wasn’t built like that. This just sucks.

How do you deal with difficult circumstances? Do you get out the other end?

Lia

After post P.S: Why do I need to approve me linking to my own posts?! xD

Anxiety and Trains

Train strikes are not good for people with anxiety. I was standing around for my train, which wasn’t direct and meant I had to change at a weird stop, and I was shaking as it kept getting delayed and I got confused.

I started walking back, really sad, when a familiar face appeared. She told me it was okay and made me follow her. Then, she found her friend and stood with him but I was too anxious of being late to get on the train, so I left again. I just couldn’t do it.

I was in tears to my mum, knowing I’d already missed so many days, but my anxiety feels like it’s destroying my life sometimes. It takes away everything from me: social interaction, education, independence. People say for me to just stop thinking about it but I can’t and the more I try not to think about it, the more I end up thinking about it.

This is really affecting my college work and my life in general and it just sucks. I wish I could get over it, but I can’t. It’s just always there, hanging on the wall, spiking my toes, clawing its way through my ears, my lungs.

I just want it gone but it never goes. Never.

Lia

Self-harm

I understand that this is a really sensitive subject, but I want this blog to be as honest as possible, and, to do that, I need to share my experiences.

I have self-harmed since the age of twelve and still do, though not as regularly as I used to. At first, it was just sharp rocks that were at my school underneath the trees; the sharpest I could find weren’t that sharp, either. But I liked them because I could hurt myself without marks being left behind. My pastoral carer at the school suspected me of self-harm and one time he made me lift my sleeves. However, because of the instrument I used, he couldn’t find much proof, so couldn’t help me. I didn’t want to be helped. I liked the pain.

But the rocks didn’t give me enough pain so I turned to nail scissors. Sharp, small, easy. They were amazing for giving me the satisfaction whilst leaving clean cuts, which had very minimal scarring. I have cats too, so any leftover marks could have just been the cat, or so I said. Eventually, I decided that nail scissors weren’t enough, so I turned to the sharpest knife I could find. And God, did it leave scars.

Once my parents found out, they removed everything visible from my room but they didn’t realise that you can use anything to self-harm. Anything. Your own finger-nails, an elastic band (I used to wrap them several times around my fingers until the circulation was cut off and they were really sore), really just anything. Sometimes I’d self-harm in the way of making myself vomit and I even told people but, because I was of normal weight, they let me go (and probably continue doing it). It didn’t matter that stuff was taken away from me; I didn’t care. I would find a way.

I tend to do it in an irrational moment of madness when my social fears get so bad that I feel I need pain to distract myself from them. Sometimes, I just want the world to end, because I can’t deal with my emotions, and when the world continues to thrive, I cut. Now, it is quite irregular, sometimes being every day, other times I won’t do it for a month. Really, my mood is like a see-saw. I can be so happy and then something happens that makes my emotions go anti-clockwise and I’m sad. It’s a kind of sadness where you want to die but you don’t want to do it to yourself because then your family will be asking all kinds of questions; it’s the kind where you just wish someone would do it for you. The happiness I feel, though, is because of my loving family and pets and, occasionally, friends, though I don’t have many. The sadness I feel is because of everything else. It all adds up. One small thing at a time then another thing and a bigger thing and a massive thing and I’m self-harming.

At the moment, I’m undergoing a lot of stress on my autism at college, because people with autism can sometimes struggle with change and I’ve had so much change recently. FYI: I have had five lecturers for my creative writing course in the just-over-a-year I’ve been there. The classes were also merged. It has been very hard for me. As well as this, I don’t find anyone who I particularly bond with at college; no one who understands me. My main friends aren’t at my college and they’re amazing, but I can’t see them very often.
When I was twelve, something bad happened to me, which I won’t go into detail about, but basically we’re also studying this book in English, and I really don’t want to study it because I’ve heard what the content is from someone who’s already read it and it could be triggering to me.

Basically, I’m trying my hardest to stay clean, but there are little events at the moment that are trying to push me to do it. I’ve emailed my lecturer but she just said “read through it” — and that’s exactly what I don’t want to do, in case I get triggered.

Unfortunately, I feel deeply misunderstood in a lot of areas of my life, and I feel like soon another moment of irrational thinking could turn into some more scars. I hope not but I feel like this desire to inflict pain on myself to distract from how I feel will always be here. It’s been here for five years; it’s not going away soon.

I hope you understand this post and I’m sorry if you’ve had experiences with self-harm. Just to let you know, I’m here for you.

Lia

I try

I try to be a nice person. I try. It isn’t enough though because people still think I’m terrible. I was trying to do a nice thing by commenting on this girl I know’s blog regularly, making her know someone was reading it, and giving her nice comments. I was just trying to be nice. I did it anonymously though, so she didn’t know who had said the nice things. She replied to me at the time, thanking me and whatnot.

I checked her blog again today only to find she’d deleted all my comments. Every single one. Every single nice comment I’d made. I’m just done.

I’m obviously not a nice person. I try to be but I probably won’t ever be. I’m just nothing, I guess. Just nothing.

My dad

Yesterday, me and my dad had a huge row. He was going on about me snacking, as he often does (I was having some hummus and Pringles), and I was fed up of him always going on about it. Then, he called me fat.

Now, my BMI says I’m in the normal, healthy range and all my friends say I’m a good weight (though they might just be being nice) — but this is my dad. My dad called me fat. My own dad. I was crying and telling him to leave me alone but he wouldn’t even give me space. I’ve suffered with bullying and self-esteem issues a lot in my life and he knows that, yet he continues to obsess over this.

I don’t know what to believe, to be honest; I told my cousin (whom has suffered from an eating disorder for quite a few years now) and she told me he was mad, that he should not be saying that at all, and that it was my body, not his. I love my cousin so much and she always knows what to do to make me feel better. He’s her blood uncle and we’re quite close with her family (even though we can’t see them as much as we’d like due to distance) so I was quite surprised when she was saying that he was in the wrong, considering she’s known him for her entire life (longer than she’s known me, by four years).

I’m really confused now because my mum doesn’t like getting involved (though now she’s arranged a healthy-eating plan, woohoo, even though I don’t snack that much anyway) so I don’t have her opinion on the matter. But my dad thinks I’m overweight and he’s my dad and you believe your dad, you know? More so than statistics, I guess…

I was crying for so long yesterday over this and I don’t know what to think. 😦

Thank you for reading this post,

Lia

Sorry

I guess I haven’t posted for a while.

I just haven’t been feeling so good, both mentally and physically. It was really hot today and I don’t like the heat because it makes me feel ill. I did have a nice day out with my mum though, but that was a temporary boost. Right now, I’m sad again. It’s just the worry, the constant worry, of not knowing what to do or whether I’m doing it right or whether I’m liked or what they want or I don’t know – just everything. It all gets on top of me.

It’s like I’m at the bottom of the ocean and I’m trying to swim up but my leg is caught in a rock and I’m running out of oxygen and then my oxygen tank just bursts and I’m gasping and I’m gasping and I drown.

I’m sorry I’m being so negative; I’m just so worried about stuff. I can’t deal with anything; I’m not ready to do anything. I can’t grow up, I’m not ready, I’m not. I’m really not ready. It’s so scary.

Sorry, hope you guys are okay. 🙂

Bear [Poem]

A bear, glaring at my movement,
deciding where to go,
what part of me to eat first;
my mouth feels dry, thirsty,
my heart feels unused, rusty,
and my hands become a ball
and the bear charges —
misses by a margin,
and again again again
and eventually,
it doesn’t miss
and I am crushed
by its killing kiss.

Judging

So, I was at my autism group today — as I go to most Tuesdays, excluding next week because I’m on holiday! — and there was a new boy. Well, two new boys, but this particular new boy is the one I’m gonna talk about because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him.

In fact, we were at school together for years, in the same class, and he was alright – sometimes a bit annoying but sometimes nice. He had a few anger problems and I remember this one incident when he pushed a girl to the ground and she really over-exaggerated it, claiming she couldn’t remember anything, just because she was quite attention-seeking and manipulative. To be honest, I was glad he pushed her over — but that’s not the point! He got in trouble for that, and we just thought he had behavioural issues, but we never found out the reason.

I found out today though. It was a very late diagnosis, apparently, even later than mine — but I now see those memories so differently to how I did before. Before, I saw him as a boy with anger issues; now, I see him as more similar to me than I thought. He was nice today but it’s made me think.

Lots of people have issues that are invisible; like me, like him, and they get judged for them because they’re invisible. People wonder why they’re so out of sorts but then they don’t know the real reason. I didn’t know the real reason but now I do and I guess my mind feels a bit cleaner, if you get what I mean. He didn’t know the reason either but now he does. We both do, I guess.

Someone might get angry, or they might assume, but that isn’t their fault and you should make sure you make them feel appreciated. Don’t ignore them, don’t leave them out; if you give them the friend they want, maybe they won’t get angry, or maybe they won’t assume. We just want to be understood and once we’re understood, then we’ll be happy, and you can be happy too. 🙂

Thank you so much for reading this post

Got any suggestions? I’m open!

Lia 🙂