Anxiety & Depression

Near enough everybody, at somepoint in their life, will experience some sort of depression and/or anxiety. It may impact their life quite profusely, whereas some people might just see it as a temporary inconvenience.

My first memories of depression and anxiety started when I was 10, and I got a diagnosis at 14. At such a young age, symptoms can easily be mistaken for "terrible teens".

I grew up with my Mum, a single mother who suffered from terrible depression and awful anxiety herself. Agoraphobia had crippled her life from a young age, and I grew up thinking that staying away from social situations/public transport/outdoors was normal behaviour. It was only when I started Secondary school, I knew that this behaviour was not normal.

I was shy, really shy, just like my mum. I would only speak when spoken to, and would keep myself to myself at all costs. I was relatively "normal" to a few close friends that I had, but I knew that I was very different to them in some way.

Age 11-12 I grew as a person. I had become more outgoing, my sense of humour flourished, and I enjoyed school. I look back on these years with a warm feeling in my heart.

At 13, things started breaking down at home. My Mum had drinking "issues" and couldn't take me to the dentist, or the doctor. The thought of going to these places on my own had filled me with so much fear. The resentment directed towards my Mum started here. I wanted to know why she couldn't do these things with me. I tried talking to her, but I would get snapped at, and the conversation would grind to a halt.
I was so angry as to why I was "turning into my Mum". I tried fighting it, but the more I fought, the more fear would overcome me. There were times where I would wake up on a school morning in a cold sweat and a headache, and leaving the house was just NOT going to happen.

I started missing school days here and there, and I was a wreck. I slept during the day, and was wide awake during the night. At that point in time, I didn't care what people thought of me, I hated the world, I hated myself, and I took it out everything that I hated.

I find it very difficult to put into words the reasons why I self harmed. I was in control of the pain that I was giving myself, and it was the control I lacked so much in my life. I enjoyed the routine of cutting myself, cleaning myself up, and bandaging all the wounds. It was comforting.

People started noticing the scars on my body at school, and I would get teased. I was lucky that I never got "bullied" in the sense that people weren't nasty to me. I suspect this was mainly because I was called "Psycho" at school. I don't blame them for calling my Psycho - I used to go out of my way to freak the boys out by stabbing myself with a compas. Quite funny looking back at it now..  no it's not funny. It is.

By GCSE time, I was rarely at school. I had a home tutor, who I told to fuck off most of the time.  My subjects were cut to English Literature, English Language, Maths and double award Science. It broke my heart. I was a good student, and my projected grades were great before everything fell apart.

I saw a child psychologist, who was as much use as a condom in a nunnery. I could talk for England about my problems, I just wanted the answers. I was given all sorts of antidepressants over the months, a lot of them gave me horrible side effects like hallucinations. I remember one hallucination in particular, everytime I moved my eyeballs, I saw spiders in the corner of my eye!
It turned out I had to find the answers myself. So I did. So I thought I did.

At 16 I decided to leave my cosy village in Oxfordshire, to move in with my 25 year old boyfriend in Tottenham, and to stop my meds! At the time, it was the best idea I ever had. I thought throwing myself into the deep end was the answer. I spent 3 months there, only leaving the house twice on my own, and that was a minute walk to the shop where I would be overcome with panic attacks.

I didn't revise for English Literature, and got a C. I did half the coursework for English Language and got a D. I did half the Maths exam and got a D, and I went through the Science exam in 5 minutes and got a C C. I got my results while I was in Tottenham. I cried for a solid hour. After an hour, I realised how well I had done, for doing so little. That was a comfort.
Getting a D for English Language.. HA, I'm a writer. I don't put that on my CV btw.

I had reached 17, and the fun was about to begin!

                                                   Part 2 to come.. How I fixed myself.