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.
This writing has had no spell check. No moments to change anything.
Just the raw and painful truth that is my life.
Any word that are spelt wrong, please feel free to think of what i meant or what you believe the correct word is.
Dyslexia is a bicth. Anyway;
Why am i me
What happened to result in this mess of a person
what if conceived a day later
what if i was born in septmber
what if my parents brought the house in redhill
what if i wasn’t dropped on my head
what if i didn’t have this illness
where would i be if i had never got sick
would of i managed in the police
or even before that would of i got into college
maybe i went to uni
maybe i did become a nurse in the army
i travel the world saving lives
but instead I’m ill
sitting on the rug in my living room
the flat i might not able to keep
wishing i was dead
what point did wanting to die become normal
i would of thought it and exnodled it was weird
i would of thought people don’t think like this
but i don’t remember
its now just part of my life
thinking about the raitrack
thinking about the rope around my neck
thinking about a knife in my thigh
But that is not an opposition
Why is it as I stare out into the forest ahead I’m still full of with pain and suffocating emptiness.
I’m sitting on a metal chair with a pillow on top to soften the hard cold texture, but still I can feel the solid rock like material pressing against my legs. With one headphone in I can indulged in my cheerless music and still embrace the silence that surrounds me. The dead air is only broken by the occasionally bird flying past the vila.
With the sun beating down on me the irregular breeze hit me as a little gift, cooling my sticky skin. My letters on my mac becoming little pockets of fire and I tap away breaking the sound of nothingness.
While sitting out on the balcony I pause looking out at the old barn with timber and logs neatly placed in the pockets under the tiled roof. Ivey covering half the ridged stoned wall. Behind the edge of the glimmering swimming pool is visible, with the blazing sun directly above it in the clear blue sky. The perfect summers day yet my chest is frosted over. The ice spearing like a cancers cell around my body.
As I look up at the golden sun the idea of getting my Ray-ban’s pops into my head, and as quickly as it dose it takes me back. My mind blank I hurtle into a lamp post, my car Instantaneously stop my body flung forward like a doll a child has just thrown, a load thud and then a crack and the exploiting of dust hits my face followed by the airbag hitting my square in the chest I’m pushed backwards and sit there with the powder floating around my car.
Panic feels my body as i look out at the woodland. I remind myself I’m in France, i’m safe. But as the panic leaves me i feel up with emptiness. The feeling of nothingness. Like a bottle of sparkling water that was once full and glistening with bubble, now a empty crumpled bottle with the label slightly torn off. The feelings of not just embarrassment and shame but also the distress of losing my car. Something that i owned with true delight. Something that I was so proud of, i’ve now lost because of stupidly and lack of strength to beat the illness. Taking a deep breathing in I wince, from the pain in my stern. I stop. I just look out blankly, focusing on the two black dress’s on the washing line, slowly swaying in the wind, like there dancing tougher. Then I hear my mother laughing from the pool looking beyond the dancing dresses i see her in the pool, her arms laying crossed over on the edge of the pool. Hair up in a high bun stop stop it from getting wet she’s talking to Louise, I can distally hear the chatter whistling past my ears followed by the softness of laughter. Nevertheless the tranquillity it destroyed as the sound of my name faintly get picked up by wind and pinches my ear. Immediately I believe the worse, there discussing the crash. Again my mind goes back in time. My limp powerless body being launched forwards, the abrupt blast of the horn as my cheast smahes into the string wheel and then the air bags exploding into my nose and slapping my body backwards. Then stillness, only power floating around like the firework after the loud bang and there sparks are slowly disappearing into the dark night sky.
Worry is a very power and scary emotion. It has the ability to stop your brain from thinking straight. Your suddenly engrossed with every possible thing that could go wrong. Time slows and suddenly everything is very far away. Being told that i had a meeting at 14:30 hours was possible one of the most gut reaching feeling i have felt during my life. My dream job is suddenly crumbling because of my illness and how i acted because of triggers. Once i get told my whole body tense, i can fell my shoulder rising, i saying Ok in a very high pit but quite voice. I must just get thought the next 25 minutes. time is both going so slow yet so fast. As L.M walks in i dread that he’s heard what i did. Thing i don’t even know what i did. Chatting away about his car i realise he mustn’t know. People are speaking to me but i can’t hear them. I’m suddenly very aware of my fingers, feeling the air hit them. Its like i haven’t had hands before and suddenly they been connected to my wrist. I fell like i’m slowing leaving my body and its someone else. I need to take control. i have 5 minutes and i need to take control. I take myself into the changing room. In the past I would have started to cut myself, just to let my body and mind feel the relief. But i need to start taking a step back. I need to start using helpful techniques. So i breath. I close my eyes and i focus on my breathing. I let myself feel the air rush into my lungs, my chest rising. The chilling air hits the side of my mouth and is vacuumed down, i take all the happiness that i can’t think of with these breathes in. And with every breath out and the air rushes from my lungs and i feel my chest deflate i focus on the negative thought leaving. As i breath in i raise my arms in a circle over my head, focusing on lowing my shoulder. Letting my muscle relax and feel weightless. I keep doing this. Until i open my eyes and see its 14:30.
As i walk out of the changing room the Sgt is standing there. The dread hits me again, but i smile and without me thinking i follow her to the Insp room. My legs are moving but I’m not in control of them. I’m walking towards the doom of losing my job and my mind is escaping my body. I’m blank.
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.