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Enough - May 19th 2018, 04:15 PM

This thread has been labeled as triggering, particularly on the subject of self harm, by the original poster or by a Moderator. The contents of this thread might therefore not be suitable for certain sensitive users. Please take this into consideration before continuing to read.

It isn’t your fault, she said. It’s definitely not you. I’m just alone, no one wants me, you can’t do anything to help me. I sat there watching her, as she carved a circle into her skin with the point of a [edited]. I didn’t know what to think. Why would she do this? She isn’t alone! She has me. Why doesn’t she want me? I remember asking her time and time again to tell me what was going on... she never did. ‘You wouldn’t understand’ she said. No one would. And then she told a group of other people. I asked her why she told them, when she wouldn’t ever mention what was going on to me. And she said ‘you aren’t smart enough to understand.” She later told me ‘You don’t understand me enough’ another time she said ‘You aren’t a good enough friend.’ And that when I realised the problem. It wasn’t her, it was me. I wasn’t enough.

Not being ‘enough’ was a common theme from then on. Starting my next school year, I kept away from my old friends thinking they didn’t want to talk to me. I kept away from the other people as well, only making comments when I knew people would laugh or be on my side. I forgot what having a ‘best friend’ was like. I forgot what being wanted was like. But people laughed at all my jokes... so what else mattered? I was liked. Just maybe not enough. By the end of the year I was a joker. I didn’t try in lessons, or have any hobbies or talk to anyone about my problems, however I got along with most of the class because I was easy to talk to. I went through class with a smile, while watching the others go into their little groups to share secrets. But I wasn’t good enough to have real friends. Never good enough. It was somewhere around my ninth grade summer that time that people started to take an interest in life... in have special interests that made them unique, in having a different dress sense, and later on in having a relationship. I watched these people change and develop over time, almost as though they were on a short film, starting as a child, and as the final credits role they were an adult. It was in that time that I changed to. I gave up with the jokes and the laughter and began looking for ways to leave school. ‘I’m ill miss’ was my usual excuse. ‘I’ve got a headache’ ‘I feel sick.’ I don’t know how it worked but some obscure reason my excuses gave me a get out of jail free every time... until before long I didn’t need to bother with working or sitting in class. I could always escape.

Going into 10th grade, escape became a common problem. If I didn’t like something I would do whatever I could to get out of it. Whether this was quitting the various activities I had joined-Cos I was bored but didn’t like them, or getting out of writing essays, because they were too hard. Even with my cunning use of escape techniques, I still have to endure some part of school. And this was the worst. I had made some friends now. Casual friends, not people I loved but people I could get along with. Until Aly came along. Aly joined my class from another school in Dubai, so she didn’t know anyone-or anything about English schools. Almost immediately we hit off, and quickly became close. And almost immediately this led to problems. If I saw her spending lots of time with others then this would lead to feelings- partly of jealously by partly something worse. The feelings of ‘not being enough’ would come back, stronger over time. I was failing my subjects because I was rarely doing a full class-and never homework, however I blamed it on not being smart enough. I had dropped grades in drama-the only subject I liked...mostly because I stopped trying when things got difficult, however I blamed this on not being talented enough. At home I was having arguments daily with my family, but I blamed this on not being kind enough, when really they just didn’t understand what I was feeling. Ever situation came back to enough. Not good, strong, smart, clever, funny, pretty, loving, talented enough. At the end of 10th grade I used my worst escape. I cut my wrists. First with a [edited], then with a [edited], and by year 11 with [edited].

I remember a day in my final year of school when the night before I had cut so severely there was no was to cover it up. It was winter luckily but try as I might, all of my long sleeves jumpers still showed part of the wounds that I had inflicted on both my arms and hands. School did find out, however instead of helping they just told me off, saying I needed to smile more. That was their exact words. You have to smile in order to be happy. Who the fuck are they kidding?! A couple of weeks after the panic attacks started. I remember the amount of time I spent laying on my bed unable to stop shaking, crying silently for hours because no one could know, hitting any object in sight to stop myself from trembling, and texting everyone, pushing them further and further away. ‘I don’t need you,’ ‘leave me alone’ ‘you can do better than me’ were my continuous messages to everyone who meant something to me. I knew by then I was not coming back, and needed to warn everyone around me. By the end of year 11, I had worked out what I had to do. I had planned a way to distract my family, so I could take as many packets of antibiotics from the cupboard as possible. And swallow them. It wasn’t fair to anyone. Having to be friends, family, colleagues with someone.. who isn’t enough.

I think I took 4 or 5 tablets until I started feeling scared. What if this wasn’t the right thing to do, what if I could have tried harder. The main thought going round my head was... you aren’t brave enough! I didn’t kill myself that night, although I regretted that decision for a long time... maybe even still.

My life is a continuous cycle now. Good day, where I talk to friends, text people, go to the gym, get coursework done, bad day where I drag myself out of bed as late a possible and force myself to spend as long as I can at be gym in order to not be alone, and worst days where I can’t get up, constantly criticise myself, and spend all day wondering why I’m still here. These days are scary and when a week goes by of bad days, it is the ultimate test of strength to overcome this.
The feelings of clingy, scared, anxious, worried and hurt never really go, and my mood is constantly changing from good day to bad or worst. This is a way of living but it is not a good one.
I was lucky enough to find a job where I can forget. Working in childcare I tend to leave all my anxiety at the door and for 6 hours a day can work straight without worrying. However the second I leave the safe haven of a children’s playground and craft area, everything comes back.
I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know if I’ll find a miracle cure to free me from the black hole I’m trapped in. But I’m forever waiting. And I always will be.
If I had one wish I’m life, it would to just be enough. To be pretty enough, fun enough, clever enough, kind enough, talented enough, friendly enough. Just enough.


I can do it and I can get through it. So can you xx

Last edited by cynefin; May 23rd 2018 at 01:55 PM. Reason: Removing self-harm tools.
   
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Re: Enough - May 23rd 2018, 01:53 PM

You are enough. I hope sharing this helped.


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Re: Enough - May 23rd 2018, 02:44 PM

I agree with Cynefin, you are enough. I hope that you will continue to share your work with us.


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Re: Enough - May 25th 2018, 01:48 AM

This was lovely!


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