4. Alone

I was heard and I was listened to, don’t get me wrong. My mother was my angel in all the darkness, and she really did everything she possibly could to support me. But unfortunately because I was on the wrong medication, and I didn’t have the right therapist, there was only so much she could do.

Weeks turned into months and I ended up staying at home for almost 6 months. I was a mess. In some ways I had come a long way – connecting to spirituality, connecting to my emotions, talking to more people, accepting my mother’s sexuality and her beautiful partner (whom I am so close with now). In other ways I had taken so many steps back; I was miserable, and when I had the opportunity I was still turning to alcohol to make me feel better, still self harming, still feeling suicidal. I was always trying to balance on the tilting board of life, trying to find my way through the labyrinth; but to no avail. The ball of yarn had been pathed for me, to allow me to find the light, but I could not follow it.

One positive outcome of seeing the CAMHS psychotherapist was that she referred me to ESMA (Educational Support for the Medically Absent) – a Government funded organisation that helps children to reintegrate back into the school system. Karen and Peter, the two teachers who visited me at home regularly, were so unbelievably helpful and kind. Step by step they encouraged me to begin the slow process of returning to school. It started with one lesson every week, gradually increasing until I was back at school daily and Karen arranged regular meetings to help the teachers fully understand how they could support me. I remember attending one of these when I was asked to give a talk to my head of year, the deputy headteacher, the assistant headteacher and the senior student support manager, to explain my mental health and ways I could be supported. I would normally have been intimidated in such an environment but I was so passionate and desperately concerned about the lack of knowledge of mental health, especially in the school system. Any fear I would have had, turned to adrenaline, and I spoke fervently and from the heart. The school was extremely supportive and empathetic, and for the first time in a long time I felt a glimmer of hope.

Before I had left school, I had spoken to a girl in my year about how I was feeling. She was lovely, but I didn’t really think anything of the conversation at the time. So subsequently I was surprised when she messaged me to say that she was here for me and that I could talk to her any time. She was a fairly popular girl, and it made me feel more “adequate” as a human being that she would think of me to text. So naturally, my first response was “Thank you so much!” and I blurted everything out as I had done with everyone else. But she didn’t turn her head, she listened and cared and texted me almost every day for six months. When I returned to school, she was part of an amazing group of friends who really comforted me.

The next year, things were still okay. Of course there were downs, which were really low downs, but there were also significant ups. My hair was beautiful and clean, I had a personal trainer as I wanted to lose weight, I was doing yoga and a workout every morning. But slowly I could feel things going downhill again. Everyone was saying to me, “you’ve come so far from where you were before.” But I knew I hadn’t, I could feel the happiness drifting away again.

It started with the personal trainer leaving – I went straight back into a bad diet and no exercise. Then it was the fact that GCSEs were coming up. I ended up having to drop every subject apart from Maths and English because I had missed so much. I was terrible at maths, always in lower sets, embarrassed by leaving the classrooms, thinking that people thought less of me; that was really difficult. English was okay; fairly simple and I could get through it. Teachers had begun giving up on me, like my music and drama teachers; they didn’t care about me, they cared about the grades in the end. I just couldn’t cope so I had to drop those two precious subjects too, and I was so disappointed in myself. But still, everyone was expecting so much more of me than I was simply able to give, because I knew the depression was back. The girl who had texted me every day for all those months began distancing herself without explaining why, and others began to follow her. Luckily there were still others who cared for me. Despite this, it felt like I was crying out for help but no one was listening; I felt stupid, alone, trapped. The building of stability and happiness was slowly crumbling down on me.

After trying to explain to the teachers that I was feeling at the point of ending my life again, we arranged another meeting. They initially suggested that I “try and hop to the finish line” (which is a really dangerous thing to tell someone who is feeling suicidal) and finally conceded that I could go back home again and complete my GCSE-studying there.

After six weeks of maths and English lessons at home, I felt much better. I completed both GCSEs and felt brave enough to go back to school for the final day to say my goodbyes. I returned to a cold welcoming from my “friends”, who didn’t have the guts to tell me that they had arranged an after-school gathering without me. It felt like I had been stabbed in the heart. I knew they had been distancing themselves from me before this, but I was still clinging on. Clinging on to a stable group of friends, to feeling I belonged, to feeling loved. I had a negative energy that they couldn’t handle, and I understand why. They were stressed about GCSEs and didn’t need more negativity in their lives. I do not blame them at all. But I just wish they had been strong enough to tell me the truth, instead of leaving me alone without an explanation. They will never understand the pain that caused me, the sleep deprivation, the endless tears, the loss of trust. I closed up for over a year, not even talking about my problems to my family. I realised that they had never been my friends.