Cancer

No, not me. My mam has it. It was found two weeks before my 21st birthday, so about six weeks ago.

Breast cancer.

You don’t realise how much of a devastating disease it is until it happens under your roof. I mean you know it’s awful but you don’t fully realise it. My grandmother passed two years ago on my birthday of Lung Cancer and we’ve always had cancer in the family- my Mam’s side. But even my nana’s cancer was a shock but I didn’t fully comprehend it at that time because it was around the time of my selfish illness, my selfish mind.

Even now I don’t think I’ve fully cried over this- I was at work when I got the call from my mam, she’d went to the doctors that morning: “Yes, Kate, it’s cancer, but don’t worry, you stay in work and its fine” She said it so casually. I started to cry and called my boss and after about 5 attempted calls she picked up and I was allowed to leave. I raced home and ran in the house to see mam, dad and aunty pam. At the time I was angry, I didn’t want my auntie to be there I just wanted to see my mam. I hugged her and she sat me down and told me everything “The doctor said this.. The nurse said that.. Radio.. Chemo.. Operation.. Breast off.. Maybe.. Cancelled.. Thursday” it was just a blur on the day. But I still didn’t cry, not properly, I sobbed, but I didn’t cry like I used to – the I can’t breathe crying.

My mam had her operation to remove the lump two weeks ago, so she can’t really do a lot well she’s not allowed to so I’ve been taking care of the house and the rabbit and everything- which is fine but its hard. I never realised how much work my mam did. I’m part time at work now due to the company not being able to afford us at full time, which is really annoying because I need the money, and now with my mam having to be 3 months sick off work and then probably having to go to part time after that, she’s earning less, the house and the family needed the money.

She’s getting better though. And she’s so optimistic. She has another appointment this week to see how it was doing, good news! It hasn’t spread. She started radiotherapy soon, and has started the- well we call it the cancer pill, she has to take that for five years. Which sounds like a long time but its a small price to pay to get well again.

I was also going to talk about myself and some stuff but I figured I’d just leave this post for my mam.

So next time.

K

The Interview

So currently I am working in an evening wear store. I’ve been working here over two and half years! Which is a long time I think. So that means it started a long time ago.

The job in the Accessory shop ended around January, and it ended because the company went bust. I was made redundant, which was fine because I was planning on leaving anyway. I’d always wanted to work in Bridal or a Wedding based store, I wanted to dress people for the happiest day of their lives because I thought if I was surrounded by happy people it’d make me happy, which is a pretty plausible reason to work in that industry. I went all over the city, in every bridal store and evening wear store to find a job. Only one got back to me, and how embarrassing I didn’t remember handing my cv in there! It was a prom style store in the shopping mall in the city centre.

I went for an interview the next day, I was still working at the other store, so I remember going their first and changing into heels so I’d look professional. The heels didn’t fit and they’d slip off my feet when I walked, the skirt I wore was my cousin’s and was too big for me so I had to wear a belt on it’s tightest hole which kind of cut into my waist. All in all I was pretty uncomfortable and not feeling professional at all! But before I walked unsteadily off for my interview the Claws and Extensions girls wished me luck and told me I looked pretty, which was nice of them. When I got there I was met with the Store Manager(s), to which one of those walked me down to a cafe to have our interview, I tripped as I walked. She was really lovely and just laughed with me when I stumbled.

We sat down in this cute little cafe and had the nicest interview I’d ever been to! We had a cup of tea each and she asked the usually interview questions; strengths, weaknesses, why do you want to work for us, ect. I was really slow at answering and apologised a million times, but she was so lovely and understanding, and just let me take my time. Anyway after the interview I walked, no stumbled back up to the store and she told me to relax and she thought it went really well, and as I was leaving I seriously fell down the stairs.. I remember I looked back at her and I swore I saw the ‘oh, you’re not going to keep doing that are you’ look.

I must have been in the house about an hour and then I got the call, ‘Well done, you’ve got the job!’ I was so flustered on the phone, my mother was standing next to me and all I could say was ‘Ahhh, thank you, thank you, this is so brilliant!’ and then continued to flusher and flounder until she went ‘Well I’ve got to go’ and I was to start in three weeks!

I arrived at my shift at the Accessory shop the next day to hand in my resignation letter, I figured I’d wait until the end of my shift to do it, so I got on with cleaning the store, sitting in the back of the girls conversations and organising the bag hooks. About an hour into the shift, the store owners walked in, which was strange because they didn’t visit a lot, once every three weeks maybe? They asked us to close the doors so they could talk to all of us together. We all stood out back and then they just came out with it ‘Sorry, we’re going to have to close the store’ the rest of the conversation was a blur, I was upset, I knew I’d be fine because I already had a new job, but I was sad for the company and the other girls and because I was watching this shop fail. The other girls left straight away, but I stayed behind and helped pack up the store with the owners- it was incredibly awkward, they didn’t  talk and we just got on with it. When my official shift ended at 8pm the woman owner came up to me and thanked me for being with the company, gave me a pair of earrings from the packed up stock and told me they could handle it from here. I left. I didn’t tell them I had another job waiting, I didn’t think it was fair to do so.

I never saw the brown haired girl I used to work with again. I liked to say I think about her and wonder or care what she’s doing now, but I don’t. I saw the blonde haired girl twice since leaving that job, one time was a couple of weeks into my new job and she was job hunting, and I didn’t tell her where I worked. The second time she had a new job at Next where one of my closest friends worked, she said she was close friends with him too, I asked, they weren’t close. They hadn’t even spoken before. She did have a new job though. This is probably one of the only time’s I’ve thought about her since the last time I saw her two years ago, I’d like to say I’d like to see her or the other brown haired girl again but I don’t think it’d effect me in the slightest if I never saw them again. It’s strange you spend 5 months working with someone and then it’s over, and you just don’t care. It wasn’t a significant part of my life, it was a job. And they were work friends colleagues.

Kate

I didn’t realised this would be so hard.

Or maybe I did.

This is so hard to write about my stupid life.

I’m sorry that I can’t keep up with this and post all the time. I really am trying. But I go to write something and I read the blog name and think ‘I smile?’ and I swear I do smile, I smile. But I still get sad. I feel like I’ve lied to you all, I think making this and saying I was happy would make me happy, like I’d believe it if it was written down ‘you’re happy.’ I am happy, sometimes. But I’m also sad, and it’s not right. Sometimes I wish I could go back on the Prozac because I never got sad and never got anxious and I just did stuff and didn’t worry about it, just did it. If I thought something was a good idea I’d just do it. 

—

So, I found this^ in my drafts and I’m glad  didn’t post it when I was going to. Yes, I still get sad. I still get anxious and I still worry. And I’m sorry to say I’m using you, the readers, I’m using you to help myself, because I think it does help to talk. Even if you read this and you don’t care, or maybe you do, maybe it makes you laugh, maybe it doesn’t. It helps. Talking, writing, blogging even, it helps. It’s going to get better for me, and if you feel the same it’ll get better for you, I refuse to give up, no matter how sad we get, I won’t let us fail. We’ll talk and we’ll read, we’ll survive and we’ll smile. 

In the last couple of months I’ve been away, I can’t say I’ve done a lot of exciting stuff, I went to London to visit my brother, I took time off to paint my bedroom, my job got worse, and then better, and then worse again, my gorgeous nephew, E, got christened, I went on a date (it didn’t go well), I made some curtains and cushions for my room, I made a dress, I read some books, I stopped sleeping for a while, I bought for Nytol and slept again, I baked, I made a new desk, I basked in the sun which finally hit Britain and then I sat back down and decided to write this blog post. I am truly sorry I went away. I didn’t even realise how much time had past. 

It may take me time to get back into posting, but I will. Please be patient with me, while I learn how to smile. 

Kate

The Other Sex: Boy No. 1

I’m going to go against the grain here and not continue my story. I mean, I will continue it soon, but I figured I’d quickly talk about something which I think effected me into being who I was and am. There’s been a couple of bits and bobs I’ve missed out because they’ve been hard to tie in with my writing. So I’ll be doing a couple of odd posts to talk about those bits.

So first off… Boys. I think this is a difficult subject for any teenage girl.. Shame I’m not technically a teenager anymore. I hate talking about this, and boys, I mean still now I find it so difficult to talk to boys, finding relationships, all that jazz. But I don’t find it as much of a big deal anymore. When I was a kid, like 13 or 14 I was like every other girl on the planet I had crushes and I gawked at pretty boys in the street. I didn’t have boyfriends in High School, and neither did half of the rest of the girls in school, but it always feels worse when it’s you. I had a boy that I kissed once when I was 14, I think he was my first real kiss, I honestly can’t remember because there was this other boy (which we don’t talk about- maybe one day, but not now). We’ll pretend for now that the first boy I mentioned was my first kiss, HEY maybe he was, as I said I’m not entirely sure.

So this boy. NO wait, I’ll start from how I came to meet him. I was a bit of an outcast (as I’m sure you could imagine) in High School, I had a couple of friends in my Year and then a couple in the Upper Year and some in the Lower Year, but I mostly met people at this place called The Green it was pretty much a patch of grass in the city centre of the closest city. Myself and a couple of friends would travel there every Saturday, we’d take a train and a steady walk to get there, and once we did we’d pretty much lay on this plot of grass with these strangers that we’d just meet. I hate the labelling but it was mostly Goths, Emos, Scene-Kids (if anyone remembers those?), Skaters and the odd Charver. It was a pretty friendly place, you’d meet these new, strange people who would just talk to you and not care who you were, they’d instantly be your friend if you wanted it. It was nice for me.

One day myself and my little social group were sitting by a tree (we were all around 14 at the time) and this guy came over, he knew one of my friends and just sat with us and the whole time I was staring at him like ‘Wow look at this guy!’ His hair was longer than mine, he was an inch shorter than me, he had a scruffy beard and he was 17- but I guess I was into that. He’d sit with us almost every week for a month and then one time I was walking home with our mutual friend and I asked him about him. And this guy found me on MSN and we got chatting and a day later I was his girlfriend.. (I’d never say he was my first boyfriend though. No way) We would MSN through the week and hang out on Saturday. This went on for a month and then he asked me to kiss him and I hesitated because I guess at the time it was my first real kiss and I had always expected the guy to just do it. I didn’t realise I had to put effort into it! I pecked him on the lips, pulled away with a MWUUAAHH and ran off. I was embarrassed that I’d made the noise that you use when kissing you’re grandma. I got home that night and was so happy that I’d had my first kiss even though it was terrible. I think I was happy that I’d gotten it out of the way.. If you know what I mean.

In the week before the next Saturday meeting I had let it slip to my brother about this guy and he was livid. My brother was and still is incredibly protective (I used to hate it but now I understand why), he’s four years older than me, so he was pretty much the same age as the guy (understandable why he was angry really). On the following Saturday my brother pulled me into town and made me break up with him. I was a little sad at first, but I got over it; I didn’t want a boyfriend, if anything I wanted a friend and then maybe a boyfriend, but I was never really bothered about having one. My brother did me a huge favour really, because I was still young, I was emotionally young too. I didn’t mature and grow up like other girls in school, I was always the baby. So what.

That was my first, well technically second, encounter with a boy. And it was soon forgotten and uncared about in a week after it had happened. I remember it somehow got around school and this girl came up to me and said “I heard your boyfriend is 17, that true?!” I didn’t know how this had got to school, and I didn’t like it. I turned to her and shrugged and said “He wasn’t really a boyfriend”, thinking back now it probably didn’t help to say that..

Stick around for the next Boy.. he’s a doozy.

Kate

Let’s Break Here.

Hi everyone. Before I continue with my story, I wanted to make a quick confession. I got a little down the other day, not really, really bad, but bad enough that I thought I was regressing.. Then again, maybe that was the whole over thinking thing that I still do. Anyway, I figured since I started this blog, I’ve done 5 posts and still haven’t gave you any clue as to how I smiled, and it’s still a couple of posts away, I think. So I thought until we get here I’d make you a quick list of things that kept and still keep me going so you’d have something to hold onto until we got to the deeper posts..

1. Remind myself of all the lovely things I haven’t done yet, and need to stick around to do.

2. Remind myself I still haven’t learnt how to cook so many recipes in my book! I don’t know how to make Creme Brûlée, or how to make the perfect stake (I don’t eat steak but it’s good to know), or Yorkshire pudding! or the perfect gravy.

3. Drinking tea! It’s simple but every cup to tea I drink is like a stop in time, a minute where I can breathe and relax. Find your ‘tea’

4. Hot bubble baths with candles and music playing.. Again, another simple pleasure but the simple ones are the best ones.

5. Laughter.. It is the best medicine. (Look below for something to make you smile..)

Tough Love     Banana     I don’t like you all the time     Roller Babies

Until next time,

Kate

Claws and Extensions

It’s pretty difficult to remember all that happened in college. If I’m honest that last post is mostly what I remember, there’s a couple more situations and stories, but nothing really relevant. Like one girl was pretty mean, but not noticeably, unless it was happening to you, she had this horrible grin which she’d use while saying these half mean half nice things. But I mean other than those type of situations nothing else really happened in college, or I can’t remember anything happening..

What happened next? College ended in May.. June time and then summer, I don’t remember that summer.. Think I just went numb. All my friends were moving away for University that September and I was preparing to be alone. I didn’t go to Uni with everyone else, it was another age milestone, it was another thing I didn’t think I was good enough for, I did apply though.. I applied to do Teaching. Three Uni’s I applied to, I got into one, and then the “I’m not good enough for this” came into play and I decided not to go. So by the time September came around my closest friends went off to different parts of the country to study. Scotland, Manchester, Liverpool. And it hit me, hard. I wasn’t going to see them often, they were making new friends, probably better friends, and they would forget me. I had to find a job. A job!

It took me until October to find a job and in those months throughout summer and then over September I got really sad. In fact this is probably where I’d say the depression and the anxiety hit worse. I sunk into this pit, into this tiny part of my mind where it was normal to think horrible things and be sad and I didn’t want help. In fact help never came into my head at this point, I was content being unhappy, I was used to feeling down and I had routines and I didn’t like change. That was the biggest problem of mine, I didn’t like change, I’d avoid anything that meant change and obviously getting help or being helped was all about change!

So this Job, it took me so long to find a job because although I was desperate for work, I was also incredibly picky. I didn’t want to work in a big company, I didn’t want to work with men, I didn’t want to work with too many people, I wanted a small shop where I wouldn’t be bothered and I wouldn’t bother anyone else. And that’s what I got, I got hired as a part timer in a boutique style accessory shop, there were four other girls, two worked through the week, other two were weekend workers, so I got the chance to work with all of them.. The weekenders didn’t like the weekdays and visa versa. I worked Wednesday, Thursday, Friday 4-8pm (sometimes 12-5, just depending on.. Whatever) and Saturday 10-6, and Sunday 12-4 so I got my fair share of time working with both.. I never really liked the weekday girls, they were pretty close friends so I was a third wheel, I’d just clean all day and they’d talk amongst themselves. They didn’t make me feel good. Saying that, one was nicer than the other.. They both had painted claws the length of my pinky finger.. Both wore a bottle of fake tan a day and both wore these horrible hair extensions and eyelashes which you’d find in the staff room or vacuum when you were emptying it. Now that didn’t bother me too bad because each to their own. It was the fact that they both had these two sided personalities to match..

At first they didn’t speak to me at all! I mean for the first two weeks they literally didn’t speak to me.. Try and imagine that for a minute, ok? You are me, and me, I mean I, was incredibly shy, socially inept and terrified of people and myself. They left me to myself and being left to myself gave me too much time to think.. Day in, day out I’d constantly be thinking. About my friends not being around, being alone, not having a real education, not having a real job, going no where with my life, doing nothing, having no one, it was never ending thoughts rushing through my head! It was horrid. When they eventually did start talking to me it was the odd question every once in a while, or “do you mind if we go to lunch together and you look after the shop?” And they’d be gone for hour and a half to two hours.. They took major advantage of me, but I wasn’t going to say no, was I? I couldn’t understand why they couldn’t and didn’t make conversation with me, so I was quiet and shy, and was the complete opposite of them, so what? I know it’s a phrase that’s been thrown around so much it’s almost lost its meaning but don’t judge a book by its cover. In the job I work now it’s pretty much my mantra! I guess they didn’t use that phrase, which honestly isn’t okay.

Moving on, the weekend girls, who were much more down to earth, and liked the same things as me and actually spoke to me! They were generally pleasant to be around except for their constant and outspoken dislike for the weekday girls.. It sort of annoyed me that they disliked someone so much but when it came around to seeing them or working with them, they were friends with them..? But I got over that because unfortunately everyone has a moment when they have to act pleasant to some they don’t particularly want to, especially when it involves work.

Oh, my mind’s gone blank. I don’t want to stop typing, otherwise I’ll lose the.. flow..? What was I going to say? I’ve forgot where I was going with this. The going blank thing? That’s happened a lot since being ill, my brain just shuts down for a second and I don’t remember a conversation, or what I was doing. I mean, give it a minute or two and I’ll remember but it’s really annoying. Does this happen to anyone else?

In those first months; summer, looking for jobs, having this first job, being without friends; I felt so alone. I would cry every night, without fail, even if I had a good day, I’d go home and lay in bed and I’d think.. Thinking is one of my least favourite things. Still. My closest friend moved to Scotland and I think he was there two months before he transferred back home, I was so happy he was back, but so sad because he changed his course, and I’d never tell him this but I really wanted him to stick out the course in Scotland, it was Pathology and he was so smart, still is, well he’s dumb but smart.. I won’t go into it but if you’ve got a friend who does stupid things but is also the smartest person you know, you’ll know what I mean. So at the time I was happy for me to have him back and unfairly I was disappointed in him for leaving. Saying that though, I’m so happy for him now, he’s studying something he enjoys and he’s happy, as far as I know, I still 100% worry about him because he’s my best friend and I hope always will be and everytime he does something stupid I want to scream but also… everytime he does something stupid I’m usually sighing and standing beside him doing it with him. I don’t want him to ever think he’s alone.

It’s unfair to say but I wish I had someone that felt the same way for me. I mean he probably did, my family probably did, a lot of people I knew probably cared but I never knew it, and if there’s one thing I’ve changed since feeling better is I don’t lie, I always say I love you when I end a phone call with family, and I tell my friends I appreciate them and care about them and miss them, because I can’t allow them to ever be as sad as me. It’s a small list of things but people appreciate it, I sure as hell would have appreciated it.

Kate

 

 

Mr Anxiety & Mr Tweed

Quick catch up, I went to school and passed with below average grades, and then I went to college and again got by with below average grades. In general I think I’m quite smart, and I think I was quite smart back then, I just wasn’t academic smart. I didn’t do well in tests or exams, coursework I could do, because you got support. Exams were all about revision which I couldn’t do, I was a big procrastinator. College was a huge change from school, it was a social nightmare. Making new friends, being in classes with people you didn’t know, in my case taking some courses only because you’re friends did so you wouldn’t be alone. College was a big test, it was a whole new way of learning, we had lecturers instead of teachers, we called them by their first names! Dan, Ian, Gillian.. It was strange to get used to. But I adapted, and by adapted I mean I continued not talking, I made a few friends, I don’t talk to them much anymore.

My friends were all really smart, like unbelievably smart! In all honestly it made me worry that they’d all get a place in college and I’d be left. We went and I literally decided on our application day what I was going to study at college, I didn’t think about it prior, I didn’t want to. In my mind College was an age milestone and I hated the idea of getting older especially when I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.

We walked into the College cafeteria where the Application area was set up. There were a couple of stages in applying, picking your courses, being approved, paperwork, more paperwork, student ID card issued, and a couple of “Are you sure? Are you happy with these courses? Because now is your time to say no, before you leave”. If I could go and stand behind myself then, when the double-check questions were asked I would have screamed “DO LAW, OR HISTORY, OR ART, OR SOMETHING MILDY ACADEMIC! OR SOMETHING YOU’RE AT LEAST INTERESTED IN!” I chose; Photography, Media, Film and English Language. Know don’t get me wrong I loved studying them first year, but by second year it got boring. Art was what I really wanted to do! I would have settled for history, criminology, or math! The reason I decided to skip Art was I didn’t think I was good enough.

I took those courses because they were easy grades. I got a B in Photography & English Language. Film Studies would have been an easy course if I didn’t succumb to some weird breakdown in second year. First year was easy really, it was hard making friends and getting used to this new environment, but all in all, and academically it was easy. I dropped Media in second year, I just didn’t enjoy it, and you had to drop one course by second year so why not choose media? Film was the class which got me down in second year, the other students weren’t 100% pleasant, but I started to understand then that it was something you had to deal with throughout life, you weren’t going to like everyone.

Anyway, two years of Film with one lecturer who was more anxious than me and one who wore the same tweed jacket everyday, was hard. Mr Anxiety made me uneasy because he was like a little lost puppy, or like Bambi, and he was so skinny, he looked like he would break if you touched him, and so anxious, and when he’d talk to you or give you feedback on your work he’d nod a lot whilst talking and.. I’m getting off topic. I did generally like them, they seemed to care, but in their own little way. However, my feelings towards them didn’t matter because I was still skipping every two hour wednesday class held by Mr Tweed, I was scared of that lesson because Mr Tweed always used to make me read in front of the other fifteen or so students and I hated that. It was part of the social anxiety.

My only option was to avoid that class and lecturer. Mr. Tweed would send me emails asking where I was and after the 6th or 7th “Sorry, I’m ill” he got sick and sent me a final email “If you don’t come in and talk to me about this then I’ll have no choice but to kick you off the course” and I didn’t want that, it would be one less grade if I did! So the next Wednesday before the class I went to meet him and it was the second time I cried in front of a teacher. He talked about how I couldn’t expect to get a decent grade if I didn’t attend his lessons, and I told him I was scared of public speaking and I didn’t want to speak up in his class anymore. He agreed he wouldn’t make me speak if I attended. I agreed too. I also apologised for being an awful student to which he laughed at and said I wasn’t the worse, which made me feel better.

That isn’t a great story, but for me it’s a big one, I mean I didn’t just cry I broke down! Heaving and sobbing and “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to! I haven’t been feeling well recently” first time I reached out… Of course he didn’t catch my vague cry for help,  I figured I needed to speak up and be blunt next time.. Guess that’ll be for my next chapter.

Kate

Baby’s First Diary

I think around Year 9 or 10 (that’s age 14/15) I started to keep a diary, I found it a little while back, it was hidden in one of my drawers. I only filled half of the book, when I reread it I couldn’t believe some of the stuff I wrote down, this illness had really got a hold on me when I was younger. Because of my illness I had a really horrible memory (I still don’t have an excellent time with short term, but it’s not as bad as it was) I couldn’t remember how bad I was, throughout college when people would go on about school I’d join in with reminiscing and the “It was fun!” but honestly I couldn’t remember a lot of it, it was like I’d blocked it out, I remembered some events, like the bathroom incident, the brilliant girl, and a few more stories I’ll tell you, but I couldn’t remember emotions. As far as I was concerned when I was writing that diary I was just a blank page, no real emotion to show. Obviously I know that wasn’t true now, because when I started to feel better I started to remember, and I was feeling emotions- they weren’t good ones most of the time but I was feeling and that was an important thing to realise.

Anyway this diary had my feelings in it, as well as musings, and reflections, and most entries ended with “I don’t know why I feel like this but I wish it’d stop” so clearly I wasn’t conscious about the illness. It was really sad for me to read back on that as an adult because in reality I was reading the thoughts and theories of a 14 year old girl that didn’t know of a way out, didn’t like where her life was going and wanted to find a way to stop it, even it that meant taking her own life.

Now, taking my own life was a thought which constantly crossed my mind, I thought about it so much it became this fantasy, this beautiful way of exiting a world I hated. I believed a lot in reincarnation at the time, or my own perception of reincarnation, so in my eyes taking my life was just a way of restarting the game, a do over, even if the next life I was a boy, or a lion, I didn’t think too much into that part. I used to fantasise about how I’d do it. When I was a kid a bunch of my favourite celebrities had passed away and it made me want to too, which isn’t a nice way of thinking but I wanted so much to be like them. Heath Ledger, Johnny Cash, Natasha Richardson, Mark Speight, James Owen Sullivan, Steve Irwin, Brittany Murphy, and so many more that my mum would say “Oh, did you hear about..” and I’d go “Who?” and she’d reply “The girl from..” and even though I only vaguely knew who she meant most of the time, it’d make me sad. Okay, so they weren’t all suicide but even hearing that they’ll died made me want to. When it was announced about Heath Ledger I cried for a week.

In Art Class, I was assigned a seat at a new table, with one of my friends and then the rest were more acquaintances, some of them become more than that, I actually went to parties with a few when I was in college. Anyway, this one time in class we were sitting painting and chatting, well I was just painting, and one minute they were talking about the homework for science class and the next moment I tuned in it was a discussion on the best way to die. Which sounds pretty morbid to say but it was just banter and nothing serious was meant by it, and I spoke up and I said what I thought was the best way to die. Ofcourse when I decided to join in with “Dying in your sleep is the best way, there’s no other way that would make sense if you had the choice” Ms Art Teacher was standing behind me and the students at my table decided to drop their heads as if I was the one to start this. Apparently they knew that topics like this weren’t meant to be discussed my students, or heard by any authority, because of course as soon as you mention death, or dying it obviously means you’re going to do it. Now I know in my case at the time I was thinking about death and dying, but just because I mentioned it, it didn’t mean they had to presume. No wonder Mr and Ms English Teacher came straight to me after the bathroom incident.

Now I’m saying all this about suicide and death, but actually my first diary entry wasn’t about any of that it was about a certain ICT lesson which involved me, two girls that I wasn’t fond on and a boy I had one of those annoying crushes on. And basically to wrap it up one of the girls stretched across the boy to me and said something along the lines of “Where’s your chest? What are you double A?” and I felt so horrible for so long, why would you put someone down like that? Especially in front of a boy! And then the another girl came around handing out Birthday invites, to literally everyone in the class bar me and another girl sitting across the room, and when passing me said “Sorry, Kate you just wouldn’t fit in at the party, hope you understand” a sickly sweet hope you understand.

School was horrible, I got through it. At the time getting called Double A and not getting invited to that party was the worst possible thing to ever happen to me, but looking back now I think did I really want to go to that party? And who cares what size my chest was? I was a kid.

Kate

That could have been handled differently

That first post was hard, I’ve reread it a bunch of times since posting, I feel like since it’s about my actual life it’s a lot more important than anything else I’ve ever wrote about. It needs to be perfect, it can’t be wrong. I’m not a writer so this is hard, I keep using that word, hard, my therapist used to say “Nothing is hard, you just haven’t got the hang of it yet” and I used to think what? Ofcourse it’s hard! I can’t do it! But maybe she was right? I don’t know, I’ll try not to use that word as much. I don’t want to find writing about myself.. that word. I want it to be easy! I suppose it’ll get easier with time.

Anyway where was I? School. I feel like I should just do this in a timeline sort of way. I have a couple more stories from School which I feel relate to how I got to the point in my life where I felt I needed help.

Not long after the brilliant girl took her life I was approached by a certain English teacher, I generally liked her I didn’t have any quarrel with her, I didn’t have quarrels with many people. I remember it really vividly, I think it’s because it scared me so much at the time. I was sitting in registration (that little waste of class ten minutes at the beginning of every day to make sure we were there), I was sitting at the second table from the front two away from the window, I was pretty exposed to bullying in that seat, but I think registration was too early for that. Ms English Teacher walked in to the classroom and looked at me briefly than spoke quietly to my registration teacher, they shared this weird look which at the time I didn’t understand but as I thought about it through later years I realised what it was. Pity. They both knew something and I was going to find out what.

I was taken out of registration and up to Ms English’s classroom on the second floor, she sat me down and asked how I was, and I asked why I’d been taken out of class, and she asked me again “How are you feeling?”. She was apparently also the school guidance counsellor I found out later that year. I remember not saying anything and just looking, thinking Am I in trouble? What did I do? She went on to tell be about an incident in the girls bathroom on the first floor. Apparently a girl had wrote something quite horrible on the wall… “I hate myself and I’m going to cut my wrists” It wasn’t me, I was sad not suicidal, and I’d never deface school property, I was a goody goody. So the staffs first instinct was me, the quiet, shy girl who doesn’t talk and doesn’t have a lot of friends, to be honest I can understand why they’d think me but I think they could have approached it differently, saying that the next teacher to come up to me was a lot less kind. In my eyes.

After having a little talk and sobbing to Ms English “I’m not trying to kill myself” I was allowed to clean up and head to my next class, late. It was Science, that went by quickly and then English with Mr English Teacher, (no relation, just both happened to teach English) I was in a pretty low grade class for English and when Mr English stood up whilst we were writing short stories and asked to see me in the corridor the whispers started. I laugh when I remember one girl whispering “She’s getting moved up a class!” like it was the most exciting thing ever!

Mr English stood to the side of the corridor and muttered “Let me see your wrists, Kate” I got really upset and after he felt my wrists he said I could go back in, whilst he went to speak to someone. It was never mentioned again, I didn’t even tell my mum I didn’t want her to think the same as those teachers. A couple of years later I told my friends and I made a joke of it, when I think back now I think it was a horribly careless way of approaching something so sensitive, but I guess extra precautions were being taken.

The one thing I think a lot about when I think back about this is the girl who actually wrote that on the wall, was it a joke? Was she really upset? Who was she? As far as I’m aware nothing bad like that happened in the school again, I kind of hope that the writing was a joke (sure, it would have been a sick one) but at least I wouldn’t have this guilty feeling that some girl was actually asking her help and instead of seeking her out they came to me. Saying that, maybe I wasn’t the only one they questioned, maybe they got whoever it was help, maybe she’s okay.

I hope she did, I also hope she’s a figment of my imagination and it was a joke.

Kate

Am I really about to tell people?

This is probably the third hardest thing I’ve ever done. The first was getting help, the second telling my family. It’s been over a year since I told my family about how I was feeling, it was so difficult. I guess the reasons to why I’m about to tell the world about this is a good place to start, or should I tell you what I’m writing about? I suppose this will be a bit like the prequel of my life as it is now but I’ll just start from where I remember, the beginning.

When I was going through Comprehensive school (Aged 14) I started to feel sad, at first it was this small pain in my heart but it progressed to an aching feeling. I was crippling shy in school, I found it so hard to speak to anyone, especially boys. I guess the boy thing was part of growing up but it always felt like something more. And I don’t mean speak to anyone as in speak about my state of mind I mean actually speak to anyone, I physically found it hard, that was the anxiety shining through, of course I didn’t know it was anxiety at the time and I sure as hell didn’t know it’d become depression. As for my state of mind I thought it was fine, I thought this was just how you felt, I didn’t know any different I assumed everyone was sad and they all pretended to be happy, I figured I just hadn’t got a hang of the whole pretending to be happy thing, I would grow into it like those old pair of shoes your cooler, older cousin would throw you and go “I don’t wear them much anymore”.

I was one of the youngest in my year being a July birthday, my mum said I was bound to mature and understand a little slower than everyone else. I wasn’t stupid, I was incredibly naive (still feel like I am sometimes) and grasping some situations did confuse me but I eventually clicked on to things, I did eventually learn to understand. A brilliant young girl took her own life when I first started Comprehensive, we weren’t close but she’d spoken to me a couple of times and she’d been nice, I think we could have been friends. It was over Christmas break, some parents knew and told their kids before they returned to school to prepare them, I can’t remember when I found out I think at the assembly dedicated to her in that first week back. I didn’t understand what had actually happened, I had to keep asking my friends because I couldn’t comprehend someone so young and happy taking their own life, I couldn’t comprehend anyone taking their own life and my friends would ‘shh’ me, like “You can’t just bring it up like that” and I must have come off so prying but I was genuinely concerned and confused and who else was I going to ask I only spoke to that small group of friends. After that I stopped prying, I stopped asking questions and I just thought about it alone. First mistake.

Comprehensive school was hard. I didn’t get bullied but there was the odd occasion where the boy sitting in front would spin around and spew a horrible comment about my appearance or my work or just something stupid that big bad boys think are funny. Some of my friends got bullied, I didn’t realise until recently about some, talking over a drink and they let slip about some boy doing or saying something horrible “…and that wasn’t the last time!” following it with laugh and a big gulp of drink. I’d say “I wish I knew he did that I’d have…” I’d have what? Nothing. I would have done squat because no one wanted to make School harder than it was.

I feel I’m making School sound really, really horrible it wasn’t all bad, I did laugh and joke with my friends. I think without my friends I’d have been a lot worse off. Without sounding to.. you know.. They made me who I am, if I was a couple of years younger I’d go “Why’d you do that? I don’t like who I am!” But know, I’m happy, happier. And although I went through a lot to get to this stage I’m happy I’m here.

I suppose I’ll stop now, I’d hate to bore anyone, but to anyone reading this who feels some sort of connection or feel they can relate, I urge you to hang around a bit. My life got better, and I promise yours will to.

I’ll show you how I smiled.

Kate