9 Years~

So as it is for most kids, the transition from primary school to high school was a tough one for me. I had a pretty normal life. My parents split up when I was 7 and my little brother and I moved away with our mum. We moved house every 2 years and then when I was 10 years old, my mum had another child, a girl, to my friends dad. They didn't stay together very long. My brother is autistic. He has Aspergers Sydrome and so for a few years, life was hell. He would have temper tantrums that would last for up to 6 hours and would become incredibly violent. My mum, baby sister and I would all be in tears as he stalked up and down the hallway in the middle of the night, kicking doors and walls and screaming. He even tried to stab me once. My retaliation that night not only saved my life but was one of the only times mum didn't tell me off for hitting him. It wasn't all bad though. At least, I assume it wasn't, even though I can't remember any good times during those years. I have a nasty habit of only remembering the negative things, although during my "bad years" I lost months and months of memories, mostly bad. I've gotten off topic. Well, I've started telling things out of order anyway. I hadn't planned on writing about my early past but I guess in order to explain what happened to me in my first year of high school, a bit of back story is necessary. So here I go again, talking about my high school experience. My mum enrolled me in a school in the city, miles from home and from my friends. It was the school she had gone to where she had been prefect, sports captain and basically super popular. It was a catholic all girls school, run by a nun and I was terrified. I had already been the new kid once after my parents divorce so I had no desire to do it all again. Still, life goes on whether we like it or not and I needed an education so I just had to put up with it. It didn't help things when mum enrolled me last minute so I missed nearly all the orientation days and the "getting to know each other" activities. Not knowing what people would be like or what to expect, I rocked up to the last orientation day with full makeup and nothing but a phone in my pocket. Everyone else was basically makeup free and carrying pencil cases and folders. When a form was passed around to be filled in, I had no pen and was too shy to ask anyone to lend me one while the teacher was talking. A girl just in front of me, Ella, noticed my delay at passing the form to her and slipped me a pen. It was that tiny act of kindness that made me think I might be okay at my new school. Oh, if only I knew.

In week 1, there was a camp for all the year 8 girls so they could get to know each other and have some fun. I barely remember it apart from bonding with one particular girl who thought I was hilarious and bitching about another girl who didn't want to join in with any activities. It was on that camp that I realised that no one knew me so I could be anyone I wanted to be. I was no longer the weird, nerdy, teachers pet. I could reinvent myself and I decided to go a little crazy. It was exciting and fun and I loved it. There were a lot of laughs and I can honestly say I was sad when it was time to go back to school. I remember a few history lessons with a teacher I didn't like very much and a few maths lessons with a teacher we all made fun of and then my mind is pretty blank. You see it was then that I developed severe depression and stopped doing much of anything, let alone going to school. Oh sure, I had days or weeks where I was able to go but by then I was so behind that it just stressed me more and each time I left school it was for longer and longer. Rumors spread, teachers lost patience and my family were unbearably harsh. I know now that they didn't understand what was happening to me anymore than I did but it still hurts to think about how cruel they were to me. I remember a lot of yelling, crying, threats and bribes. I also remember none of it working. A girl from school used to call me all the time and when my mum could drag me to the phone to talk, she too threatened me with her own self harm should I not come back to school. It was stress I didn't need but to be honest, I don't remember caring that much or taking her too seriously. Some days wouldn't be so bad. I might stop crying long enough to get out of bed and take a shower, maybe eat some toast and playing with my siblings. I think that was why no one believed there was anything wrong with me. To them, I just seemed lazy and naughty because how could I be wishing I was dead one minute, playing happily the next? Depression is funny that way. Not all days are terrible so people find it hard to accept that you really have any sort of problem beyond not wanting to do the things you're supposed to. So I don't remember my first year of high school much at all but I must have done some work because I was passed up to the next grade, albeit mostly on potential.

The next few years are kind of blurry too. A new teacher started at the school and took a special interest in helping me and I honestly think he saved my life with his kindness. Because of all the rumors going around thanks to my absences, finding people to talk to was a challenge, especially when my "friend" turned everyone against me with some unkind lies. I had months of being utterly alone at school because she didn't like something my mum had said to her dad. Eventually I worked up the courage to confront everyone with my side of the story and things went back to semi normalcy. I still missed days and weeks at a time but things were much better for me and I started to have more good days than bad. It was around this time that I, unbeknownst to me, developed an anxiety disorder on top of my depression. I would get headaches, tingling, nausea and a whole range of other fun symptoms and so I thought I was dying. I had no idea of the array of symptoms anxiety attacks can bring on and so finally, I asked to be taken to the doctors for a full medical. It was a scary time because I was so utterly convinced that I had a brain tumor and was going to die because, why else would I be having headaches all the time? Driving home from my MRI, I burst into uncontrollable sobs as I realised what my negative scan results meant for me. My problems were all mental and there was no quick fix for me. Even as I write that now, I find myself tearing up at the memory of that moment. I was crying my heart out because I was honestly disappointed that I didn't have a brain tumor. It was one of the most powerful things I have ever experienced. I had never felt such despair until that moment and I could not see a way out, no matter how I looked at it. I should probably add that I saw my first shrink in year 8 but I don't remember much about it other than the fact that she was nice and her name was Mari.

Something that doesn't help my condition any is the fact that I can not swallow meds of any kind. If I have a bad headache, I have it for days because taking a pain killer is impossible for me. I can thank a traumatic hospital experience as a child for my medical mind fuck which has left me unable to treat even the simplest ailments. I have tried everything to get pills down but all I can manage, and it's only in the last year or so that this is even possible, is wafer or soluble meds. You'd be surprised how few medications there are here in any form other than capsule or pills. Tonight I took a quarter and a bit of a Panodol. I nearly threw up several times in my attempt but I am actually really proud that I even achieved that. I don't think my boyfriend and dad were impressed though, as they both demonstrated how easy it is for them to swallow tablets, cashew nuts and water. I just love it when people hear I can't do something so they do it repeatedly to show me how useless I am. I need to stop writing now I think. It is after midnight and I've had a rather dreadful day thanks to my panic attacks and headaches.

If you're still reading this, well done. It can't be easy reading the ramblings of someone like me who does nothing but talk about their problems. If you or someone you know suffers from anxiety or depression then I'd love to hear your stories of how you deal with/dealt with it. I plan on writing more tomorrow, continuing on from where I left off tonight but we'll see what happens. Maybe I'll have a better day tomorrow and my writing will be full of happy things.

 Ciao for now dear reader.