I don't even know what I want to write in this blog. I have so many thoughts and confusing things running through my mind, I can't sort them out. I get like this sometimes, where I can't even tell what emotion I'm feeling. Right now, I feel like I want to cry and I have absolutely no idea what for. Maybe it's just been too long since I had a good cry. When people compliment me on how bubbly I seem to be and how I never seem to have anything going on, I want to shake them. Everyone has something going on in their lives, whether it be of a good or bad nature. "Be kind to those you meet, for everyone is fighting a great battle." I love this quote. When I see or hear people being rude and downright mean, I want to run up to them and recite this quote for them. You can't know what exactly is going on in someone's head, even if they're your best friend of 20 years. It's just not possible. You just have to hope that they trust you enough and feel comfortable around you to be able to talk about their day and how they're feeling, no matter if it's something as insignificant as recieving a smile that made them happy, or something bigger. Bigger than they can handle.
Take me, for instance. I've had depression and yes, sometimes I'm afraid to admit it, because I'm scared of what people's reactions will be. Not that I go around telling everyone, only a couple of my best friends know. And even they don't know all the details. But society's perception is that depression and other mental illnesses such as bipolar disorder are weird and shouldn't be discussed, blah blah blah. It's the 21st century people, get up with the play.
Anyhoo. I was diagnosed with depression when I was 12. What a great time to have depression I tell you! Gosh, puberty, new school, new friends, oh and depression. Fuuun, not. I didn't go to see a doctor until I was 12, and I'd had the same symptoms since I was about 10, so yeah, I started young. And that's one thing that I really can't get over, but we'll get to that.
So yeah, 10 and depressed. And having not told anyone, I was very alone. I guess the main reason I became depressed in the first place was due to my Grandma's death when I was four. Initially it didn't hit me, but as I got older I started to realise that I needed her in my life and I became very sad that she had gone. This was in my last year of primary school. Now, lets back track a wee bit. At school, I've never been one the "popular" kids. I've only ever had a few friends and back when I was younger, I got teased alot for being a loner. So, being a loner already + becoming sad years after my Grandma's dying = a select couple of people deciding to take advantage of the situation and tease me relentlessly. Honestly, kids are horrible. And I say that in the nicest way possible, but really. Kids, especially girls, are horrible. Little girls are bitches. :P
So, here I was, just turned 11 and being bullied because I was a loner. Continue sadness, begin depression. I thought I was wortheless, and I was made to believe that I would never amount to anything. I made it through the end of primary school relatively emotionally unscathed, although my mind was beginning to believe the bullshit.
During my first year of intermediate, the bullying, and consequently my depression, became worse. I was basically an outcast, I had very few friends. And the ones I did have, I shut out.
My bully wasn't a physical bully. She was very much an emotional bully, doing little things she knew would upset me. Such as stealing my pencil case and dropping all my beloved coloured pens, pencils and glitter pens out around the school. It seems trivial now, but at the time, I was heartbroken that I had lost my Winnie The Pooh pencil case. That kind of thing kept a hold on me, and when I turned 13, I contemplated suicide. I believed my life was never going to get better, that I was destined to be a loner and a weirdo for the rest of my life. I thought about how I would do it, and where. I even went as far as visiting the place where I thought would be best suited for my actions! Fucked up. But if I hadn't gone, I wouldn't be alive today. Because while I was there, I thought of my Grandma. I thought of how much I missed her and how I wished she had been a part of my life. And then I wondered if she would have been proud of me. I realised then that I was standing of the edge of my life, of course she wouldn't have been proud of me. I started crying then, apologising to my dead Grandmother for thinking about suicide. I stepped back from the edge of death and I walked away. Thanks Gran. :)
So back at school, a teacher had started to notice that I was becoming more and more withdrawn from everything and I prayed that she would ask me if I was okay.
She did.
I was in Year 8, my last year at intermediate. Age 13. And the girl who had been bullying me relentlessly since I was 11 had finally turned to physicality, and punched me in the stomach. So I wrote about it in a speech that I delivered to the class. The good thing was, she was in my class, so when I started talking she went bright red. I was looking at her the entire speech and everyone gathered it was her I was talking about. So when I had finished, one of the teachers, Ms. K, took me outside and down to her office. She sat me down, and she looked at me. I was hoping she was going to say it. And then the words came: "Are you okay? Talk to me."
I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders because finally, someone had noticed I wasn't okay. I let out a sigh of relief and I started to cry. I cried and talked, and she listened for two hours.
I went to the doctor and it was there I found out what I'd already known for a while..I had depression. I wasn't prescribed any anti-depressants, because I wanted to fight this on my own. It took me another 5 years to beat my depression, and all of the people in my "friends group" never understood why I was a loner. I told someone once, the person who I thought was my best friend. She told me to deal with it on my own. She even had the nerve to say nobody should ever get depressed because no-ones life could be that bad. Then and there, all the respect I had for her disappeared. People do feel that way, people can have depression. Fuck you you ignorant cow.
So I struggled through most of my high school years, fighting a quiet battle no one else knew about. Often I would bunk school just so I wouldn't have to be social. One thing I'll never be able to change is the fact that meeting new people now scares me. I just can't cope with meeting new people, unless someone I know is with me. I didn't go to many parties and I didn't drink much alcohol. Because when I drank, I got more depressed. That, in turn, made me even more anti social, because while everyone was getting drunk and hooking up in the corner, I was sitting on the couch, drinking my lemon lime and bitters.
Enter Mrs S.
She was my teacher in Year 13, and by this stage, I was at the point in life where I just didn't care anymore. I didn't bother putting much effort in at school, sometimes not turning up for a day or two. Mrs S was a miracle. She was quite possibly theeeee best teacher I ever ever had. She was amazing. She was my saviour, and she didn't even know it. Every day I looked forward to going to school, and I tried my best in her classes. I was awarded the top prize in her class, which topped off a great year. I can't explain how much she means to mean...I let this song do the talking.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQyQst3iBB4
Thanks Mrs S, you saved me from myself.
And wow, I've rambled on a lot. And now I feel alot better.
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