Nicola died on 7th May 2008 after overdosing. Two days before she had taken her French GCSE speaking exam; it later emerged that she got an A. She would have been so pleased about that. Various people gave her various nicknames, I called her Nessa, taking the first letter from each of her names N.E.S, and at the time it seemed cool. Times change…
One of the most important things in Nicola’s life was modelling, put her in front of a camera and she became the biggest poser to ever walk the planet. But not in a conceited way, she remained realistic and wasn’t one of those girls who’s main ambition was to be the next Katie Price. Nicola was incredibly impulsive, I never managed to find out what she truly wanted to do, but she often spoke about being a doctor. Who knows, she could have made a good one. She loved being centre of attention and making everyone laugh. They laughed and she laughed too. Probably, given the opportunity, she would have been a hilarious drunk: one of those people you really want to be with on a night out. But even in nursery, when I first met her, she was a livewire. I craved the friendship from someone who was bubbly and confident, even at the age of 3. The French language, it would seem, has been weaved throughout our friendship since day one, when I said “I can’t speak French,” after being forced to partake in language lessons at the European nursery we both attended. Her reply? Dancing around the tables singing “it’s easy peasy lemon squeezy!” Remembering that now still brings a smile to my face.
Nicola was sixteen when she died and had so much to live for, not just in terms of academics, which undoubtedly she would have done well in, but the simple things. I remember how excited she was about learning to drive and passing her test. And then being able to buy a car and drive up from Sussex to see me whenever she wanted. Like I said, she was impulsive.
Travelling was another large part of her life. Every few months, she would go back to her home town in Ireland and see her extended family. She was well travelled compared to your average 16 year old. I was so jealous when she spent 3 months in Australia, just because she could (and because independent schools have ridiculously long summer holidays.)
No one saw it coming, because even in her final days, she had a smile on her face. I’ve been told that she was quieter, but everyone thought that it was because of exams and the family situation. I will never forgive myself for not being there when she needed it. Even more so, because I didn’t go to her funeral. I wanted to shut it out and pretend it wasn’t real. I couldn’t face the truth: my best friend was dead and I wouldn’t ever hear her voice again or be able to converse with her every day. So I sat outside one of the schools in my town, waiting for my French exchange to arrive for the week, (a week which, incidentally, was horrific…Nicola would have loved the stories) on the day of her funeral and shut it all out. I will never forgive myself for not saying goodbye; visiting her grave a few months later wasn’t the same.
Nicola, you have taught me a lot, by not being here. I should look out for my friends, not think about myself as much and speak up if I disagree with something.
Talk to people.
Trust people.
Some of that I have succeeded with. My friends remain the most important people in my life, along with my family, and in many ways are the siblings I’ve never had. Speaking up if I disagree is definitely not something I need to work on. Talking and trusting however…well, I haven’t done quite so well there.
Nothing in the world can ever replace what an amazing friend you were. All I have are memories. And I will hold on so tight to those memories that it will hurt. I will love you forever, Nicola. Thank you for being the sister I never had and one of the most influential people in my life.
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
Tuesday, 24 May 2011
emotion disassociation
"It's good to see you looking a bit brighter and happier."
Oh the irony. Actually I feel anything but that. But the smile, putting my head down and remaining fairly quiet seems to be working. I very nearly burst out laughing at that comment this afternoon.
Something I have realised though, is that taking on everyone else's problems makes me forget what is going on in my head for a short while. Looking after a twelve year old girl when she is ill and there are suspicions of her having an eating disorder is one of the better things I have achieved today. Trying to sort out the mess that a young girl has got herself into regarding boyfriends, self harm and drugs is again something which takes my mind off things. I am a complete hypocrite, I am very willing and able to give the latter girl advice and support her, and yet that same advice I can't follow myself. But that disassociation, however damaging it may be for myself in the long run, is the only thing which keeps me going and stops me collapsing onto the ground in a trance like state of utter paranoia and panic.
I am my own worst enemy.
Oh the irony. Actually I feel anything but that. But the smile, putting my head down and remaining fairly quiet seems to be working. I very nearly burst out laughing at that comment this afternoon.
Something I have realised though, is that taking on everyone else's problems makes me forget what is going on in my head for a short while. Looking after a twelve year old girl when she is ill and there are suspicions of her having an eating disorder is one of the better things I have achieved today. Trying to sort out the mess that a young girl has got herself into regarding boyfriends, self harm and drugs is again something which takes my mind off things. I am a complete hypocrite, I am very willing and able to give the latter girl advice and support her, and yet that same advice I can't follow myself. But that disassociation, however damaging it may be for myself in the long run, is the only thing which keeps me going and stops me collapsing onto the ground in a trance like state of utter paranoia and panic.
I am my own worst enemy.
the truth is...
The time is 9.50am. And I have cut.
On the surface, that would seem like it is a bad start to the day, when actually it's anything but that. It was an amazing sensation watching the blood run down my leg. I can't really explain it, I know it's wrong and like I discovered yesterday, people can judge you as a weak person, but I can't stop.
I know I'm slipping. I'm slipping back into the habit of not being able to manage the smallest of things without resorting to hurting myself. I'm hurting on the inside, so I have to hurt myself on the outside. And the worst part is, I can't even explain why I'm hurting so much. I can work out the things which aren't right: exams, health, school, parental job insecurity. But I can't link those reasons to my actions. All I know is that when I cut, I feel better. That feeling of "betterness" lasts for a while and then I remember. The way I see it, unless I stop thinking, I can't break this cycle.
I want to cry and cry but I can't. I don't have the ability to cry anymore. I have single handedly pushed so many people away and only now am I starting to realise the consequences of this. Right now, I need someone to sit down next to me and give me a hug and tell me that everything is going to be okay. Even if I don't believe them, I need to hear it.
I guess the truth is, I am feeling incredibly lonely and isolated from the world.
On the surface, that would seem like it is a bad start to the day, when actually it's anything but that. It was an amazing sensation watching the blood run down my leg. I can't really explain it, I know it's wrong and like I discovered yesterday, people can judge you as a weak person, but I can't stop.
I know I'm slipping. I'm slipping back into the habit of not being able to manage the smallest of things without resorting to hurting myself. I'm hurting on the inside, so I have to hurt myself on the outside. And the worst part is, I can't even explain why I'm hurting so much. I can work out the things which aren't right: exams, health, school, parental job insecurity. But I can't link those reasons to my actions. All I know is that when I cut, I feel better. That feeling of "betterness" lasts for a while and then I remember. The way I see it, unless I stop thinking, I can't break this cycle.
I want to cry and cry but I can't. I don't have the ability to cry anymore. I have single handedly pushed so many people away and only now am I starting to realise the consequences of this. Right now, I need someone to sit down next to me and give me a hug and tell me that everything is going to be okay. Even if I don't believe them, I need to hear it.
I guess the truth is, I am feeling incredibly lonely and isolated from the world.
Monday, 23 May 2011
just because I'm smiling doesn't mean I'm happy
Today I had my second counselling appointment. I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I'm glad I went. I hated every minute of it and couldn't get out of the building quick enough.
I went in with an open mind. I was honest in how I felt, I admitted to self harming and answered the questions which I was asked. A few too many conclusions were drawn from the hour appointment/session, whatever I should call it.
I'm a grief stricken teen who can't cope with the loss of her best friend and her father. I've turned to self harm because I am over stressed and can't absorb anymore emotion. I don't have a degree in counselling, so maybe I should listen to what they say, but really? As evil as it sounds, I have no memories about my father, so it is very hard to have emotions about someone who I didn't know. Yes, of course I wish I had a father, but do I miss him? I always feel like a bit of a fraud when I go to his grave...like he's not my father to miss. In an ideal world, I would have a father, but I can't change it.
When you lose your best friend, it's like part of you dies too. There will always be part of you which wonders "if I'd done this differently maybe..." or "what if..." I will always hold the blame. Nothing can change that, countless people have said "it's not your fault", but the truth is, I'm pretty sure they would feel the same if they were in the same position. I cared about her. I loved her. And I let her down. Three years have passed, and I still miss her. So maybe there is an element of truth of saying I can't cope with her loss, but I can't change it.
As for the self harm, the truth behind it is I cut to control the pain I'm in. I can't control the pain from my hip/knee, but this I can. That small amount of control grounds me. Some people are strong. Others are weak. The message I've got from today is that I'm a weak person; that makes me feel rubbish and worse about myself.
I would like to cut myself. I feel like my wall of protection has been knocked down and now everyone can see me for who I am: a fucked up teenager who can't control herself. And that realisation truly sucks,
I went in with an open mind. I was honest in how I felt, I admitted to self harming and answered the questions which I was asked. A few too many conclusions were drawn from the hour appointment/session, whatever I should call it.
I'm a grief stricken teen who can't cope with the loss of her best friend and her father. I've turned to self harm because I am over stressed and can't absorb anymore emotion. I don't have a degree in counselling, so maybe I should listen to what they say, but really? As evil as it sounds, I have no memories about my father, so it is very hard to have emotions about someone who I didn't know. Yes, of course I wish I had a father, but do I miss him? I always feel like a bit of a fraud when I go to his grave...like he's not my father to miss. In an ideal world, I would have a father, but I can't change it.
When you lose your best friend, it's like part of you dies too. There will always be part of you which wonders "if I'd done this differently maybe..." or "what if..." I will always hold the blame. Nothing can change that, countless people have said "it's not your fault", but the truth is, I'm pretty sure they would feel the same if they were in the same position. I cared about her. I loved her. And I let her down. Three years have passed, and I still miss her. So maybe there is an element of truth of saying I can't cope with her loss, but I can't change it.
As for the self harm, the truth behind it is I cut to control the pain I'm in. I can't control the pain from my hip/knee, but this I can. That small amount of control grounds me. Some people are strong. Others are weak. The message I've got from today is that I'm a weak person; that makes me feel rubbish and worse about myself.
I would like to cut myself. I feel like my wall of protection has been knocked down and now everyone can see me for who I am: a fucked up teenager who can't control herself. And that realisation truly sucks,
Saturday, 21 May 2011
£0.70
"How are you feeling?"
"Okay."
"And honestly?"
"Not good."
"Have you cut yourself?"
"Yes"
"How many times?"
"I don't know"
"Are they bad?"
"Some bled"
"When did you last cut?"
"Today, at lunch, I bought a compass and cut in the toilets."
"Okay...Did you make you feel better?"
"No."
The price of self harm: 70p. 70p for a compass, then a shaky walk to the toilets. Cut. Be sick. Plaster on a smile. Walk into tutor. Sorted.
"I'm fine."
It's funny, I say it so much, I'm starting to believe it myself. I'm not fine, but the magic smile fools people. And they really do think I'm okay. Except my doctor. I couldn't fool her. And I'm annoyed at myself for not trying harder. It's hurting too much and I am a bad person for lying to so many people, when really, all they want to do is help me.
"Okay."
"And honestly?"
"Not good."
"Have you cut yourself?"
"Yes"
"How many times?"
"I don't know"
"Are they bad?"
"Some bled"
"When did you last cut?"
"Today, at lunch, I bought a compass and cut in the toilets."
"Okay...Did you make you feel better?"
"No."
The price of self harm: 70p. 70p for a compass, then a shaky walk to the toilets. Cut. Be sick. Plaster on a smile. Walk into tutor. Sorted.
"I'm fine."
It's funny, I say it so much, I'm starting to believe it myself. I'm not fine, but the magic smile fools people. And they really do think I'm okay. Except my doctor. I couldn't fool her. And I'm annoyed at myself for not trying harder. It's hurting too much and I am a bad person for lying to so many people, when really, all they want to do is help me.
Thursday, 19 May 2011
"I want to scream so I can't hear"
simply because I love this song. When everything else fails, I can rely on this song, to calm me down.
let's start again
Today I cannot explain how I feel, not a great start for my blog, or in this case, not a great restart to my blog. So why did I start this blog? I am clearly not all that good with words so why am I writing? I have failed at communication, so maybe a blog is the answer. Actually my doctor and counsellor suggested it. I can't (and won't) talk about how I feel face to face with someone, so this, in many ways is an outlet.
In all honesty, I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't even remember when it started. I could bullet point everything which makes me unhappy, but it seems somewhat heartless. I guess the starting point was three years ago: my best friend killed herself. Shortly after this, I started self harming. In the space of a few months, this slowly got worse and I was very close to taking my life. I blamed myself for my friend's death, and to a certain extent, still do. It says a lot about a friendship when you don't notice someone is that unhappy.
Two years and various self injuries later, we find ourselves in January 2010 I stopped self harming. I got a hammer and smashed my wrist and that was the last thing I did. I got help, although to this day, no one knows what actually happened, I have always and will always stick to the story of slipping on ice. Getting help from medical professionals symbolised the end. I felt safe. I trusted myself.
So why am I writing this now? Well, I'm self harming again. I'm a little bit messed up, some people have referred to me as crazy. I hear voices. I don't really know who I am anymore. The triggers? A2 exams in a matter of weeks - geography and philosophy, the latter I am definitely failing at the moment. A university place depending on me getting decent grades. A group of school friends discovering alcohol and spending a lot of time (and money) drinking - something which doesn't really appeal to me. I drink to numb, not something which can necessarily be done in public. My mum is going to lose her job...cheers government. And the small matter that for the past year I've had ongoing hip problems and pain, resulting in very little sleep, reduced mobility and my life being turned upside down with the news that this summer I'm having major surgery, meaning crutches, more pain and no summer lovin'. Could be worse sure, but right now, I feel pretty rubbish. It's one thing after another.
But when did it all truly start? I remember feeling sad, incredibly sad. Loosing interest in school and other people, spending hours staring at the ceiling of my room hoping for sleep but sleep not coming. But when does sadness become depression? I don't know. Does anyone know? Probably not.
Oh and frigus...
Noun, frīgus (genitive frīgoris); n, third declension
1.cold, coldness, coolness, chilliness
2.the cold of winter; winter; frost
3.the coldness of death; death
4.a chill, fever
maybe that sums me up.
In all honesty, I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't even remember when it started. I could bullet point everything which makes me unhappy, but it seems somewhat heartless. I guess the starting point was three years ago: my best friend killed herself. Shortly after this, I started self harming. In the space of a few months, this slowly got worse and I was very close to taking my life. I blamed myself for my friend's death, and to a certain extent, still do. It says a lot about a friendship when you don't notice someone is that unhappy.
Two years and various self injuries later, we find ourselves in January 2010 I stopped self harming. I got a hammer and smashed my wrist and that was the last thing I did. I got help, although to this day, no one knows what actually happened, I have always and will always stick to the story of slipping on ice. Getting help from medical professionals symbolised the end. I felt safe. I trusted myself.
So why am I writing this now? Well, I'm self harming again. I'm a little bit messed up, some people have referred to me as crazy. I hear voices. I don't really know who I am anymore. The triggers? A2 exams in a matter of weeks - geography and philosophy, the latter I am definitely failing at the moment. A university place depending on me getting decent grades. A group of school friends discovering alcohol and spending a lot of time (and money) drinking - something which doesn't really appeal to me. I drink to numb, not something which can necessarily be done in public. My mum is going to lose her job...cheers government. And the small matter that for the past year I've had ongoing hip problems and pain, resulting in very little sleep, reduced mobility and my life being turned upside down with the news that this summer I'm having major surgery, meaning crutches, more pain and no summer lovin'. Could be worse sure, but right now, I feel pretty rubbish. It's one thing after another.
But when did it all truly start? I remember feeling sad, incredibly sad. Loosing interest in school and other people, spending hours staring at the ceiling of my room hoping for sleep but sleep not coming. But when does sadness become depression? I don't know. Does anyone know? Probably not.
Oh and frigus...
Noun, frīgus (genitive frīgoris); n, third declension
1.cold, coldness, coolness, chilliness
2.the cold of winter; winter; frost
3.the coldness of death; death
4.a chill, fever
maybe that sums me up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)