Born 1993 in a little town in Surrey, I was slowing falling behind in life. School kept telling my mother I would catch up, but by year 6 they started to expected that maybe there was a-little more going on then they thought. By the time I went to secondary school I was given the Dyslexia label. I made friends with a group of girls in my class. All of them were very gifted at school, all in the higher sets for Math and English, while I had to spend most of my days in classes by myself with people who didn’t care about school. By the time Year 10 came I started to feel really sad and alone. Emptiness would hit me like a wave and I wasn’t yet a strong enough swimmer. By the time year 11 came I had started self harming and felt like a lost soul wondering around without a purpose. My friends took me to the doctors where I was given yet another label, Depression and anxiety. I felt like it was wrong but no one would listen, a couple of session of CBT and then I was back to wondering around. Having points of excessive happiness only to be followed by crippling sadness. And I thought that was my life. First year of college, and having to re-do my GCSE, as I didn’t get all 5, I was yet again excluded from my friends. But yet another label had to come my way Gay. I was know a dyslexia lesbian with mental health issues. Yet I kept strolling on, only for me to collide with 2016 like ball hitting a bat. Having my break down at 22 and this is where I will elaborate.
I closed the front door with a slam to make sure it did shut. My keys in my hand. I will just have three, only three and that way I will be sober by the time i’m home. Theres an air bubble in my chest. I haven’t had a drink for four weeks. Three aren’t going to do anything. I need to pop this bubble. As I place my hands in my denim pocket I feel the crinkle of some rubbish. As I pull it out I look down at the ring I brought Nic as a little something.
I’ve done so well and it wont help. Reality hits me and I remember why I can’t drink. Placing the ring back into my pocket I go back inside my home. I need to keep busy, I start typing. I just need to get to 7:20 then i’ve done it. I type away to my music on shuffle. Needing a break but acknowledging I can’t just sit, i cut up the melon that’s been in the fridge for Nic. I do it slowly enjoy the sound of the knife slicing throw the melon. The thud as the melon falls onto the chopping board. Throwing the skin into the rubbish bin hearing the whack as it hits the bottom. I focus on all sense. The smell of the sweet melon hitting my nose. 7:20 I made it. I leave my house with the pride of knowing I took a step back and didn’t fall into dangerous behaviours. I did not drink. I did not bing. I did not-self harm. I’m proud of myself.
I’m sitting on the edge of the windowsill with the music so loud to hear the person next to you speak you were having to lean in. my anxiety high but I was coping. Wearing my dress I felt ok. It was Insp leaving due, in a rugby club in east london. I’d managed to travel up with my mind racing but I used my fidget cube and got there. Having a laugh with old collages, dancing and even giving the classic belt out of the circle of life over the mic. I was coping. Enjoying the music and trying to get a nice photo of me and T.S. by tickling her side to get her to smile in the photo. Things are calm. But without warning I get asked how the termination went. I could feel my body going cold. I didn’t like thinking of it, every time I do I feel like I’ve walked into a room but can’t remember why. Trying to brush it off I say i’m fine. But she carries on saying she thought that I’d had seconds thoughts. Of course I had, who wouldn’t. But i can’t be thinking about it right now, I can feel my skin starting to prickly. So again trying to brush it off, with my voice a-little higher than last time. She then looks straight in my eyes, her dark glazed eyes piercing mine, I feel like she’s trying to see inside me. ‘You must stop sleeping around’. my body freezers, I feel like my face has turned white. I’m astonished , how could someone think of me doing that. Doing that to Nicola. In a very stern voice I say I’m not. She looks away saying good. My body going from a tall and confident figure, to one that is small and feeble ready to be eaten up by the world. Shaking I telling her it only happened once. She scoffs in an dismisses way. She doesn’t believe me, she thinks I’m cheating on Nicola hurting the most important person. Mind now racing. I’m not that person I’m a good person. Feeling a cold sweat on my skin I explain to her it happens once and some people count it as a form of rape. She doesn’t even turn to me, facing straight ahead in a drunken slur ‘Betty, you are not a victim of rape, you’re a victim of stupidity’. Stupid, I’m stupid. What do i have going for me. My head is fulling with all these negative thoughts. My head is a sink and rapidly feeling with water until it’s over following and all these emotions pouring over the side. With out realising I’m walking over to the bar “double rum and coke please, diet.’ Everything in the room is bouncing, and the music is very far away, sort of echo of background noise in my mind that is being pummeled with speculation and beliefs that are true without question. People are talking but I can’t hear them, nothing is going on. I’m on a little island by myself. I drink and as soon as that rum hits the back of my neck i feel a relief, like someone has just poured water over a fire. F.S is ordering shoots, yeah of course I can one. I need to stop this water from hurtling out of the tap that is my thoughts. My mind is getting whisked around at top speed and without realizing Gap. I’m standing on a Stratford bound tube train. I don’t live this way, stumbling off I walk onto the London Bride bound and sit find it hard to focus my eyes. I can’t see, i can’t think, I’m no longer me.
Seven o’clock March 6th sitting on the sofa, I can feel the tingle in my fingers. The rush of euphoria the sudden exploding around my body. I must do something, I must do everything. I’m sitting here next to Nicola she’s speaking but I can’t hear her. All that’s coming to my mind is getting out, running around, speaking to everyone. I must, this is the moment where everything is working out and I must complete my list. I’m unaware of what my list actually is but thoughts keep bouncing into my mind. Like a bottle of coke I’ve been shaken and I need my the cap to be realised. I’ve already downed pre-made cocktails. It justified though there from M&S, this makes this okay. I haven’t done anything wrong drinking is socially acceptable and as long as no one finds out it’ll be okay. Nicola is talking and all I can think about is how to get out. How can I do this, suddenly it comes to me, it ingenious! I have no awareness of how recklessness my ideas are, without realising I’m truly deep in a manic episode.