Trigger Warning: This post discusses self-harm, and depression.
It's funny, but not a day goes past where I don't ask myself how I got here.
Not a day goes past where I don't think back to the person I used to be so many years ago.
The other day I was wretched back to one of the worst chapters of my life, when one of my closest friends revealed something that was happening to someone close to her. Something that for many years I foolishly selected to be my coping mechanism when in reality it was nothing more than a cry for help fused with inexplicable self-hatred.
Or more precisely, self-loathing.
I believe I lightly touched on this subject before, but I must admit that it's taking every single, tiny shred of courage I have to share this next part of my life with you.
I choose to share this now because if there is one thing I have learned these last few years, it's that the only way to grow, and take ownership of your life, is to do the things that you most fear.
This I promise you.
Most importantly, however, you need to determine what you choose as your purpose in this life.
We are all driven by personal motivations which often time compel our actions in covert ways.
Which is why awareness is everything.
To be aware of ourselves, does not mean we know the where, what, how or even why...but we at least know the who.
We may not know much about life, but we can conclusively attest that it is uncertain, inconstant and unpredictable.
If we're honest without ourselves, we hold no significant control in our lives, the only thing we truly possess control over is knowing who we are.
So, let me begin.
I became acquainted with depression at the age of 13, although it took me almost 10 years to recognise it for what it was.
I had a distorted notion of the concept at that age; I simply endured a multitude of emotions not understanding where they came from or why I felt the way I did.
I just knew that I felt overwhelming despair.
All. The. Time.
There was an unabatingly, undulating tension inside me that I could not escape.
The more I fought to ignore it, the more it fought back.
Over time its strength developed from a barely discernible whisper into a distinct and commanding voice, that eventually became louder than my own.
A voice that told me no one would miss me if I was gone. A voice that said I would never be good enough. A voice that sneered at my reflection in the mirror until I could no longer stand to look at myself.
If you ask me when this started exactly... I cannot say.
If you ask my why I felt this way...I could probably cite a number of psychoanalytical theories about my childhood that might explain it somewhat...but maybe some other time.
I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, but realising, and understanding the reasons is entirely dependent on your level of self-awareness.
We don't always get answers and very rarely find closure when something ends badly or there are things that remain unsaid.
Out of all of life's pitfalls, for me, this one is probably the hardest to contend with...but I'm learning.
At 13, I did not think this way. I anguished over every tiny setback that came my way, and the same thoughts would run through my mind for weeks after.
"What did I do to deserve this?"
"I must be the worst person in the world for these things to always happen to me."
"I hate being me."
It's so strange to journey back through my mindset at 13 years old.
I no longer recognise that girl.
So here comes the toughest part.
I am fully aware that many teenagers have unfortunately experienced, and many are experiencing right at this moment, those same feelings I did.
Being a teenager is one of the hardest phases of your life and it's an unpleasant experience for the majority of us...but I can only speak from my experience and perception.
For many years after, I had given in to absolute darkness. It was as though I had accepted my fate and since I believed there was nothing I could do to change it...why fight it?
Yet, as humans we have an intrinsic need to find coping mechanisms; it's how our survival instinct is wired.
In early 2004, I bought a magazine that was incredibly popular with teenagers at the time in the UK - "Bliss Magazine."
It was my favourite magazine for most of my teen years. It practically taught me everything about relationships, friendships, periods, sex, fashion etc...
Growing up, I was extremely self-conscious and very shy, so asking my mum or sisters about these things was out of the question.
Reading about it was just easier.
Why am bringing up this random teen mag?
Because it was very much the inspiration for one of my biggest regrets in life so far.
Most of the mistakes you make at the age of 13 consist of memories that are replaced by other more significant memories.
But there are mistakes that are marking enough that aren't so easy to replace.
In my case, I have no choice in the matter because the scars won't let me forget.
I have a very vague memory of the first time I ever heard about self-harm. I remember reading an article in an issue of Bliss, and I remember feeling so incredibly shocked at the story.
Keep in mind that it was different back then. In the early 2000s, self-harm just wasn't something people talked about openly, and especially not to (or in front of) children. At least in my world it wasn't.
Self-harm, even today, isn't something that people like to talk about, myself included to be honest.
But that's why I decided that it is something I need to talk about, because although I remember initially feeling shocked and incredulous at the story...it was only the next day that I tried it for the first time.
I had had a terrible day at school. There was a girl who made it her job to make me feel as small and insignificant as possible.
All I remember is having a particularly bad day, and as I rushed home desperate to get into the safety and comfort of my bed, I passed two kids who looked around my age.
I wasn't really paying them much attention as I was deep thought but as I passed them, I heard one say:
"Eurgh, seriously that girl is so f*cking ugly!"
My heart stopped.
To this day, I have no idea whether they were even talking about me or simply to each other about someone else...but it was in those moments that the "voice" would pronounce itself.
"Of course it was about you...who else do you think they were talking about?
They weren't lying, you are so ugly."
I couldn't hold back the tears even though I was so close to home.
I only remember feeling like my life was hopeless and I desperately searched my mind for something to make the feeling go away...and that's when I remembered something I had read in that article.
The girl who was sharing her story was asked why she cut herself, and she replied that it helped to stop the pain. The emotional pain.
It was as though a lightbulb flicked on in my head, and with the utter despair I felt, I would have done anything to make it stop.
This began at 13 and finally ended at 18.
I woke up one day, looked in the mirror, and to this day I have no idea why that day was any different, but as I looked at my reflection I no longer felt anguish - I felt angry.
I felt angry for allowing myself to see myself as a victim, because that's how I saw it... had permitted myself to be a victim so that I wouldn't be accountable for my own failures.
For example, if I was uninteresting then if someone didn't like me...then it wasn't myself because I couldn't help who I was so there was nothing I could do about it.
If I was so ugly and then I started to like someone - then I wouldn't have to face my fears and actually do something about it.
This allowed me to pity myself and have an excuse for everything.
That day I made a promise to myself that I would never again allow myself to be a victim.
I thank God every day for that day...because I might not be the person I am today.
If there is anyone reading this who is going through this right now, or knows someone who is I just want to say this - self-harm is a drug.
It disguises itself as a friend that you turn to in times of struggle, but it is your biggest enemy.
Just like a drug, it becomes an addiction you can't quit.
As much as you feel may feel right now that those seconds of relief are worth it, trust me when I tell you that the shame you'll carry of those permanent scars...really aren't.
It's been nearly 15 years since my last time, and even now, at the age of 32...the scars are there. I still feel self-conscious about them. I still feel shame when someone notices them, and I still stutter when someone asks me what happened.
The only positive I can find about them is that they will always sit as a reminder of the promise I made to myself.
I can almost picture the subtle judgement and credulity harbouring some people's expressions at this moment.
I couldn't tell you what instigated my self-loathing at such a young age, but I know it began to surge as I became aware of others...which consequently caused me to be start becoming more aware of myself.
And for some reason or other...in my eyes I never measured up.
I wasn't good enough. I wasn't pretty enough. I wasn't funny enough. I wasn't smart enough. I wasn't interesting enough...
...in comparison to everyone else.
And the more I compared myself to others, the easier it became to spot all the things they were or had that I didn't.
I now realise that a great part of how you feel about yourself is how you see yourself.
And, for me at least, this is dependent on 3 different things:
1. On where you choose to place your focus
I was choosing to focus on everything others had that I didn´t instead of focusing on what I did have of value.
2. Developing a realistic and practical perspective
At 13, I lived in a fantasy world which led to a mindset of always wishing things were different and trying to fit the real world into something that it would never be.
3. Accepting what is not within your control
Only once I started to accept that there isn't anything I can about how I was psychically born or the life I was born into...that was when I realised I had 2 options - accept myself as I am...or live my entire life being miserable.
I truly hope that by writing this post, maybe it can help someone out there to love themselves as they are, and to never ever treat themselves the way I treated myself.
As cheesy as it sounds...life really is way too short for that.
Thank you for reading and for sticking with me!
