Hola,
I want to give up on my life, that's just the way it is now. That's normal to me. I'm fed up of having fake shifts where I am a tiny bit more positive and I think I have recovered. I'm not going to recover but I can't get my mind around the fact that I never will be the same as I was before. This isn't something I can just take pills for and it will all be better. I'm fed up of wishing I was strong enough to cry and thinking why didn't I just kill myself. I'm fed up of being sad, I'm fed up of feeling empty and most of all I'm fed up of my life.
You know what I have gave up on, trying. I'm sick of trying and then being told I haven't tried hard enough, of revising for hours and being told I didn't prepare enough, of trying to make a good piece of work to be told that I haven't worked hard enough. I guess I just wish people would stop expecting me to achieve highly when they don't know how hard it is to give 100% when you are depressed. I don't like other people setting me targets not anymore, it's too much pressure. One of the things I hate the most is that I feel so bad for not getting the targets that others set for me as I think they are disappointed and judging me that I don't feel happy when I do well.
I want to type more but I'm not going to because I'm fed up of hiding this so I'm going to talk to my parents. This was meant to have some positivity and quotes but I cant type anymore, I need to get this done. Wish me luck, I'm going to try
Scarlett x
Tuesday, 28 April 2015
Tuesday, 21 April 2015
Self Harm, Depression&Anxiety- My story
Hello there lovely people,
Today I'm typing something that I haven't explained properly to anyone but the thing is I don't care if I get judged for this because I am proud of what I have done. So read on and know how much this post means to me and thank you for being here reading my post.
For all my life I have been shy, I was the kid everyone took the mick out of and that was just the way it was. I didn't know life to be anything different. Through primary school I didn't really have any friends, I don't know why but I guess that's just what happens when you're ugly. The couple of people I did talk to I would always end up arguing with as I didn't trust them. When I got fed up of watching other people I would go to the only place I knew I would always be accepted, the netball pitch which the boys used for a game called Bulldog. Before then I didn't know what to do at break or lunch times but once I played there I felt as though I had a place, until the game got banned. I went back to being a loner the only thing to think about was lessons. I guess that's how I got good grades at primary school as I never did homework and I didn't know what revision was. When it finally came to the last day I walked out of that building with the highest levels (I still don't know the simple stuff though like times tables) and I was the only one left dry-eyed. That school was a prison to me; I hated it.
Then I started secondary school, which was great. I loved school, I was the kid who was sad when lessons ended and never wanted the clock to hit 3o'clock. That was back when I was happy, I had good friends and even though I was picked on badly that didn't really get to me. I hardly remember anything but I do remember that I was happy, however I cant remember what it feels like. It must of felt good. I crave to be back in year 7 with no cares in the world and when I used to like doing activities. Then when I got into year 8 I was still happy but that's when I started getting anxiety, it slowly got worse but I didn't know why I had it or what it was. I cant really remember much of that year but I know that it was still at the stage I could control it and I still managed to do okay at school. It was in year 9 when my anxiety got bad and it became a struggle, I started a course at school to try and calm it but it never helped. That year I tried so hard at school I didn't want to let it get in my way; it didn't but I lost my happiness that year. It was that summer where my depression started (at least I think that's what it is) and my life became a mess. I had everything then, even a boyfriend but I still felt like I was worthless, pathetic, useless and I wanted to die. When we were dating he asked me to promise him never to self harm and I agreed. We broke up not long after that and since then I haven't made another promise. For months after I didn't get any better or any worse I just stayed the same- sad. I never understood why I was feeling like this and I still don't. Then it got bad again I got pulled back into the war with myself and I haven't came out of it. I wanted to kill myself not long ago so I did something I have never done before to try and cope: I cut myself.
After I self harmed I did it four times in a week and that's when I realised I had a problem and I needed help. My anxiety increased and I haven't stopped feeling anxious for the last week. 2 days ago I got help. I was waiting outside my maths class and I was having an anxiety attack, I knew that there was no way of me going into that lesson so I didn't. Instead I waited outside and told my friends I would be in soon, I just needed a minute to myself. My friend Jess, she wouldn't leave. She was telling me that she couldn't leave me upset out there on my own and no matter how many times I told her to go away she stayed there with me. The thoughts got too much and I couldn't hold them in; I cried. That was the first time I had ever cried in front of my friend. It was when wiping my eyes she saw my cuts and she took my hand and told me the most supportive things I think anyone could of said. She told me that I need to tell someone before it got too bad and I said I wanted to. That's when my teacher came out and he was really concerned so he let us go to someone that I trusted. I hardly told the person I went to anything but I wish I had told him everything. He phoned my parents and told them that I cut myself and that it was out- just like that.
When I got home I went upstairs and I was too scared to go back down. I curled up in a ball in the bathroom and silently cried (which I'm very good at after all the practice). All I could think about is why didn't I just kill myself. When I finally got up and made my way downstairs the first thing I did was hug my mom and say sorry. They haven't asked about it, I think they know that when I feel it is right to talk to them I will. Until then I am gradually telling my friends: not everything, just something.
Now I'm not hiding the fact I have problems I have been less afraid to express my emotions. However now I have to cope with people knowing that I have these problems, at least now they cant say that I'm pretending.
I haven't beat my problems but at the moment I don't want to self harm again and I hope that I stick to it. I haven't felt suicidal since that day and I haven't got used to my problems. But what I have done is took a step in the direction I want to be going in- the direction of happiness.
Until next time stay awesome and thanks for reading,
Scarlett x
Today I'm typing something that I haven't explained properly to anyone but the thing is I don't care if I get judged for this because I am proud of what I have done. So read on and know how much this post means to me and thank you for being here reading my post.
For all my life I have been shy, I was the kid everyone took the mick out of and that was just the way it was. I didn't know life to be anything different. Through primary school I didn't really have any friends, I don't know why but I guess that's just what happens when you're ugly. The couple of people I did talk to I would always end up arguing with as I didn't trust them. When I got fed up of watching other people I would go to the only place I knew I would always be accepted, the netball pitch which the boys used for a game called Bulldog. Before then I didn't know what to do at break or lunch times but once I played there I felt as though I had a place, until the game got banned. I went back to being a loner the only thing to think about was lessons. I guess that's how I got good grades at primary school as I never did homework and I didn't know what revision was. When it finally came to the last day I walked out of that building with the highest levels (I still don't know the simple stuff though like times tables) and I was the only one left dry-eyed. That school was a prison to me; I hated it.
Then I started secondary school, which was great. I loved school, I was the kid who was sad when lessons ended and never wanted the clock to hit 3o'clock. That was back when I was happy, I had good friends and even though I was picked on badly that didn't really get to me. I hardly remember anything but I do remember that I was happy, however I cant remember what it feels like. It must of felt good. I crave to be back in year 7 with no cares in the world and when I used to like doing activities. Then when I got into year 8 I was still happy but that's when I started getting anxiety, it slowly got worse but I didn't know why I had it or what it was. I cant really remember much of that year but I know that it was still at the stage I could control it and I still managed to do okay at school. It was in year 9 when my anxiety got bad and it became a struggle, I started a course at school to try and calm it but it never helped. That year I tried so hard at school I didn't want to let it get in my way; it didn't but I lost my happiness that year. It was that summer where my depression started (at least I think that's what it is) and my life became a mess. I had everything then, even a boyfriend but I still felt like I was worthless, pathetic, useless and I wanted to die. When we were dating he asked me to promise him never to self harm and I agreed. We broke up not long after that and since then I haven't made another promise. For months after I didn't get any better or any worse I just stayed the same- sad. I never understood why I was feeling like this and I still don't. Then it got bad again I got pulled back into the war with myself and I haven't came out of it. I wanted to kill myself not long ago so I did something I have never done before to try and cope: I cut myself.
After I self harmed I did it four times in a week and that's when I realised I had a problem and I needed help. My anxiety increased and I haven't stopped feeling anxious for the last week. 2 days ago I got help. I was waiting outside my maths class and I was having an anxiety attack, I knew that there was no way of me going into that lesson so I didn't. Instead I waited outside and told my friends I would be in soon, I just needed a minute to myself. My friend Jess, she wouldn't leave. She was telling me that she couldn't leave me upset out there on my own and no matter how many times I told her to go away she stayed there with me. The thoughts got too much and I couldn't hold them in; I cried. That was the first time I had ever cried in front of my friend. It was when wiping my eyes she saw my cuts and she took my hand and told me the most supportive things I think anyone could of said. She told me that I need to tell someone before it got too bad and I said I wanted to. That's when my teacher came out and he was really concerned so he let us go to someone that I trusted. I hardly told the person I went to anything but I wish I had told him everything. He phoned my parents and told them that I cut myself and that it was out- just like that.
When I got home I went upstairs and I was too scared to go back down. I curled up in a ball in the bathroom and silently cried (which I'm very good at after all the practice). All I could think about is why didn't I just kill myself. When I finally got up and made my way downstairs the first thing I did was hug my mom and say sorry. They haven't asked about it, I think they know that when I feel it is right to talk to them I will. Until then I am gradually telling my friends: not everything, just something.
Now I'm not hiding the fact I have problems I have been less afraid to express my emotions. However now I have to cope with people knowing that I have these problems, at least now they cant say that I'm pretending.
I haven't beat my problems but at the moment I don't want to self harm again and I hope that I stick to it. I haven't felt suicidal since that day and I haven't got used to my problems. But what I have done is took a step in the direction I want to be going in- the direction of happiness.
Until next time stay awesome and thanks for reading,
Scarlett x
Tuesday, 14 April 2015
Inspiration Board
Hi guys!
Today I am showing you how to make an inspiration board.
I love things like this and it is so simple to make!
You will need...
A Variety of Colours, Cardboard, Glue, Paper, Scissors, Quotes and imagination!
What to do...
- Cover the cardboard with paper of your choice I chose pink.
- Get lots of quotes, or lots of different things you like or even pictures and stick them all over the cardboard. I used white paper for all my quotes and using coloured pens I drew/ wrote the designs.
- Once done put somewhere where you will see it to inspire you and make you smile when you are down.
Hope this gave you an idea to do for inspiration as I love mine and it is so simple!
Thank you for tuning into this blog (makes it sound like a radio station)
Goodbye x Scarlett
Tuesday, 7 April 2015
Feelings ruin your life- Short Story | Part 2
You know I feel like I don't have the right to be depressed because so many people have it worse than me.
I'm glad that now I trust him. I'm glad that I can talk to him about this because I'm so fed of hiding it and having to deal with it alone.
You can feel whatever you want to feel and you shouldn't feel ashamed because of it
Oh joy, there we go, I knew it wouldn't take him long. He always ends up talking about how I 'should' be feeling and what I 'should' do about it. When all I want him to say is "it's okay I'm here for you"
I don't WANT to be depressed. I don't WANT to feel sad.
That should do it. Make him feel sorry for me, I've earned some sympathy after hiding this for 2 years. It feels so great to let this out.
I know, but I'm saying that because it's the case now, there's no need to feel ashamed or anything.
No reason to be ashamed! Ha! I don't think he realises that I'm not ashamed of what I have done. But I'm not proud either. I do not feel guilty for my scars because each and everyone of those scars has a different story, the fact that the wounds are healing tell me that things are getting better.
Why do you say that Felix?
Trying to get to the bottom of what he is saying is like trying to get something out of the bottom of a glass bottle; there's only one way to do it.
Because it can be fixed. You can be fixed.
Sometimes it annoys me that I over analyse things because now I'm just upsetting myself reading that over and over again. The fact that he refers to me as being broken, does he think I'm fragile or is he saying that I have just been strong for too long. I can assure him that I'm not put together at all. Nor am I broken. I'm searching for the pieces that have been lost. I'm recovering- I'm finding the beautiful in all the ugly and I'm stitching it into my life. I'm putting myself back together. I know what to do and I simply reply.
I cant knock on the door or ask for napkins. I cant call you and ask you how you are. I cant raise my hand without the fear of being wrong. I cant hang out with new people. I cant live my life- Its like being in a cage that's unlocked. I can get out but I've trapped myself. It's like wanting to have friends but not being able to hangout. It's like suffocating when you're still breathing. It's not a way to live it's a way to die.
I sometimes wonder why I even bother. Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill myself. He doesn't make me happy, he makes me feel worse. The nicotine he gives me when we talk is fading and I need more. Is it the fact that I expect so much from him because I would do so much more for him? Is it that I want him to make it better, I want him to love me so that when my life flashes in front of my eyes it will be worth watching.
I just want to tell him that he was right. I'm broken. Remember, when something is broken it can't be fixed, which is why he described me so perfectly. Because that is exactly how I feel. I feel like he does care but not enough. I'm so ashamed of myself: I'm worthless and replaceable.
I'm glad that now I trust him. I'm glad that I can talk to him about this because I'm so fed of hiding it and having to deal with it alone.
You can feel whatever you want to feel and you shouldn't feel ashamed because of it
Oh joy, there we go, I knew it wouldn't take him long. He always ends up talking about how I 'should' be feeling and what I 'should' do about it. When all I want him to say is "it's okay I'm here for you"
I don't WANT to be depressed. I don't WANT to feel sad.
That should do it. Make him feel sorry for me, I've earned some sympathy after hiding this for 2 years. It feels so great to let this out.
I know, but I'm saying that because it's the case now, there's no need to feel ashamed or anything.
No reason to be ashamed! Ha! I don't think he realises that I'm not ashamed of what I have done. But I'm not proud either. I do not feel guilty for my scars because each and everyone of those scars has a different story, the fact that the wounds are healing tell me that things are getting better.
Why do you say that Felix?
Trying to get to the bottom of what he is saying is like trying to get something out of the bottom of a glass bottle; there's only one way to do it.
Because it can be fixed. You can be fixed.
Sometimes it annoys me that I over analyse things because now I'm just upsetting myself reading that over and over again. The fact that he refers to me as being broken, does he think I'm fragile or is he saying that I have just been strong for too long. I can assure him that I'm not put together at all. Nor am I broken. I'm searching for the pieces that have been lost. I'm recovering- I'm finding the beautiful in all the ugly and I'm stitching it into my life. I'm putting myself back together. I know what to do and I simply reply.
I cant knock on the door or ask for napkins. I cant call you and ask you how you are. I cant raise my hand without the fear of being wrong. I cant hang out with new people. I cant live my life- Its like being in a cage that's unlocked. I can get out but I've trapped myself. It's like wanting to have friends but not being able to hangout. It's like suffocating when you're still breathing. It's not a way to live it's a way to die.
I sometimes wonder why I even bother. Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill myself. He doesn't make me happy, he makes me feel worse. The nicotine he gives me when we talk is fading and I need more. Is it the fact that I expect so much from him because I would do so much more for him? Is it that I want him to make it better, I want him to love me so that when my life flashes in front of my eyes it will be worth watching.
I just want to tell him that he was right. I'm broken. Remember, when something is broken it can't be fixed, which is why he described me so perfectly. Because that is exactly how I feel. I feel like he does care but not enough. I'm so ashamed of myself: I'm worthless and replaceable.
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