My history

My aim with this blog is to try and get across how someone who feels as I do. I used to self harm as a way of dealing with my over-active emotions. I can remember the first time, as if its happening now, its so vivid. I was 11. Some extreme family behaviours had left me feeling alone and abandoned. I still had one parent, the one who hadn't abandoned me, be had been abandoned also. This offered little comfort at the time although in hindsight meant I was not alone, but we as a family had been abandoned; my dad, my siblings and me.

That evening I picked up a compass and started to scratch a message of hatred into my arm. It hurt, but it didn't bleed. I told my dad what I had done, this upset him and he angrily told me never to do it again.

After this I began scratching my arms, wrist and hands, often till they were red raw and turned orange when they were healing. A year on from the compass incident I remember sat on my nan's bathroom floor talking to her whilst she bathed. I started crying, telling her what I had done, fearful for what it would turn into. She told me not to be stupid and it was nothing. Going on to say if I knew what a hard life she had had I wouldn't be so unhappy about how good I had it. Little did she know about me and what had happened all those years ago, before my mum left, before any of this started. Something that still gives me nightmares and haunts me. I have told a few people but have sworn them to secrecy for fear of anyone finding out, for if it was ever to get out, my family would surely break, torn apart by it and would surely cave in and turn on itself.

Shortly after this encounter with my nan I continued with the scratching. More family developments, my dad found someone else. (In all honesty right now this is how she seemed and came across, I am not saying for one moment that these were her intentions!) She was lovely, I spent days at the office with her whilst my dad went about his work, she was easy to talk to and made me laugh. Until their relationship got more serious. She changed, all she seemed to want was my dad, all to herself. I became a stranger in my own home, walked around on eggshells.

She started to take over the role of looking after the cooking (something my nan had been doing since my mum had left) she would cook different meals; pizza (burnt) and chips (still half raw) for myself and my siblings, whilst her and my dad would have steak or other such fanciful foods. She would turn something tiny into a massive argument, every time I would approach my dad with these problems, he would immediately get defensive and tell me how much she did for me (true she did cook my meals and pay half for our yearly family holiday; disgusting half cooked food and a holiday ending with an explosive argument - guaranteed!) When I told my dad that I would rather her be nice to us than do those things, he would call me ungrateful. I soon dropped the issue and after a while stopped going to him at all with these problems. It felt horrible knowing that after everything we had been through with my mum, that I could no longer talk to things that upset me and my siblings, for fear that it would happen again (mentioned above).

Before the divorce I had spent a day in London with my mum and dad, one of my happiest childhood memories, whilst there I had my portrait drawn. Since that day it took pride of place on the mantle in the living room. Shortly after my dad's new partner arrived it was replaced with minimalistic ornaments and candles. Still myself and siblings put it back in its place, trying to cling on to a home that used to be ours, until one day it vanished completely. That was approximately 4 or 5 years ago. Haven't seen it since.

During the time after my mum left I had counselling for it all. It was a very messy divorce (mainly because of the partners of my parents) there is far too much to talk about for me to go into detail. The counselling helped. I don't remember much about it apart from taking photos in so that the lady I spoke to could keep up with everyone involved. I do remember that she said I didn't have to talk to her if I didn't want, I could just play with the toys instead, I always chose to talk to her.

During the years that my nan looked after us, there were good days and bad days, but I can honestly say that the bad days felt like hell. She would start arguments over nothing, when I would walk away to get away from her, she would follow. I must have gone in and out every room in the house trying to get away from her.  If it happened in her house, she would eventually say "get out of my house...now!" so I would leave, she would follow and would continue shouting at me well out on to the pavement, she liked to humiliate us in front of the neighbours, always portraying the victim. Causing my dad more stress. I can say that I have very few happy memories as a child. One being my day in London, any after that are few and far between, often with friends, or my dad and siblings. Never with my nan. My poor granddad; had to put up with these arguments often. I get upset now thinking about how torn he must of felt, always put in the middle.

When I was 16 one day I was speaking to my mum on the phone about life in general. She asked if I liked my life, my response? "Well I'd be lying if I said I thought it had been easy" Silence from her... then she asked a question about the experience from my childhood, one that no one could know was true, that I had told no one about.  I shakily replied "yes....how did you guess?" Turned out she had been through the same thing. Or something similar at least. We cried and the next day I took a train to where she lived and we cried together, hugged and talked about it.

Then I had the chance to go away for a week, stay in university accommodation with some school friends. I liked having my own space and decided to move out, move in with my grandparents who lived in the same town. My dad wasn't happy with this but I didn't care, I needed to get out of that house. I was sick of walking on egg shells. I was 17.

I moved in with other family, but my feelings were getting worse. After an emotional low point I cut for the first time. I had such a sense of relief. Soon this became my way of being able to cope. It became a normal thing to do. My dad's girlfriend took me shopping to get a sports bra (after months of plaguing me to join the gym) and when I was trying it on put her head through the curtain asking if it fitted. It was too late, she saw the marks on my arm, though she said nothing, I knew she had seen. Although nothing was said by anyone in the days, weeks, months and years that followed, obviously she told no one. Part of me wonders what had happened if she had; would I have gotten help sooner?

I started getting more and more piercings and tattoos (the first tattoo being the day before the sports bra incident) it gave me a sense of individuality, controlling my own actions, making my own decisions. In total I had 4 tattoos and 24 piercings in the space of at most 2 years. Looking back now I don't regret any of my tattoos, because they all had a meaning, they are all symbolic of people in my life. I still have some of my piercings, but also have a lot of scarring from them.

During this time I was accepted in to college to study travel and tourism. I went for counselling, for the second time in my life, the lady was lovely and we met once a week and over a period of about 6 months she helped me, gradually I thought more positively and I generally became happier. We talked and she gave me a sketch book, she told me to fill it with what ever I wanted and to bring it along to our meetings and if I felt comfortable with the idea, letting her look at my drawings. I did and this helped so much in some way. I stopped seeing her because I sat down and she asked how everything was I said "great" with a huge smile on my face; I was truly happy. She smiled back and said that it didn't sound like she was needed any more. I thanked her for what she had done and we parted ways.

At college I did well, got accepted into university. My nan told me that I would never make it in university and that it was a "pie in the sky" dream. I made a promise to myself that I would not self harm any more, I was now a different person. However I soon found that it was hard to stop like that and soon found that hitting myself bought the same relief. Then Christmas eve of my first year of university, my granddad passed away. I was at my mums house spending it with my youngest sister (7 at the time), Christmas felt magical again with her, she believed with all her heart in Santa and the look of pure delight and shock on Christmas morning made my Christmas. Around lunch time my sister (back at home with my dad) phoned to tell me that our granddad had died. She was in tears, I cried, even my mum cried. She explained the reason my dad had not told us sooner was because he wanted us to have a good memory of Christmas morning. I rang my nan to ask her if she was ok. She responded with "No, you said you'd be here for me and you aren't" then she said something about how my granddad would feel, but I don't remember exactly, the rest of the conversation was a blur. I was hysterical when I hung up, my mum even rang my dad about it (they didn't speak, ever. Not since the divorce except to argue down the phone) I went home the next day, tried to pretend what my nan said didn't hurt. She never apologised. Still hasn't. That was Christmas 2009.
The funeral was a few weeks later, I had returned to university to study for my first set of exams. The snow made it awkward to get home and I returned the day before the funeral. That evening we went to see my granddad in his coffin. He looked so different, it looked like he was sleeping. The funeral passed by in a flurry of tears, tissues and snow. At the wake, my other nan (who runs her own cafe and had offered to do the food and drinks) had me running around handing out tea and coffee to other guests! At a moment in my life where I was struggling to hold it together I was handing out tea and coffee to people I had no recollection of, but had known my granddad at some point in his life. Now it seems so surreal, that it didn't really happen.

The snow kept me at home for an extra 5 days and my exams were fast approaching. My boyfriend encouraged me to fill out a special circumstances form, to explain what had happened, to get them to go easy on me, explain why my mind wouldn't have fully been involved in my exams, but I refused. Part of me thinking I didn't deserve it, part of me thinking that I could do it for my granddad, almost like having something to prove. I did fine in the exams.

Half way through my second year I had a cutting relapse. Whilst going home for the Christmas holidays, I pushed a car through the mountains. I have got it into my head that this caused me to miscarry. I didn't even know that I was pregnant. It has never been medically proven that I did, but the symptoms are far too similar and I believe that is what it was, both then and now. Myself and boyfriend made it to my house, where he stayed the night (his house being only another 30mins drive from mine) this was when it happened; I don't feel comfortable going into the details but I genuinely believe I miscarried. He was desperate to get home to his mum, so he left me. I was scared and asked him to stay, but he refused. We argued. After Christmas, we returned to university where I found that his sister had been bad mouthing me to him. I facebooked her to ask why she felt the need to say it, I was very polite and told her how much he meant to me. She responded by saying that she knew how hurt he'd been by some stuff I had said. But he hadn't told her the whole story, not why we had argued. She said she was just looking out for him and I would do the same in her situation. The whole message came across as very unapologetic and accusing. I asked my boyfriend if I could tell her the whole story as I felt it was unfair that I was getting this treatment for something I had been deeply upset by. He said yes and I told her. Next thing I know is she phones him to ask if its true. Like someone would lie about this kind of thing?! It was more than I could handle and I left. Walked along the sea front for a while before returning. A few days later was when I had my relapse. I felt awful. It didn't bring the same relief.

Since then I have hit myself a few times, but it was getting less frequent. Then one day I stopped all together. Every time I did get upset, thoughts would go back to harming, but I never gave in. I graduated and my widowed nan created an argument out of it.  A few days before the graduation throwing my graduation dress  at me whilst I stood on her door step in stunned silence, where she proceeded to rant at me. "if you do it wrong it comes wrong" over and over again, I said I had done nothing wrong. She laughed. In all honesty I knew that she would have created an argument and end up not coming, just to ruin it because she didn't get her own way. This knowledge, the years that she did similar things and the fact that she laughed led me to say something I now regret: "You're evil" She just laughed in my face. I turned and walked away and she shouted after me "put it on facebook, see what everyone else thinks" I felt like I did when I was a child, humiliated on the street. When I got home my dad was angry with me for being upset, told me I had always known she was like this and that I needed to harden up. Asking if it mattered that everyone else was still going to my graduation. I told him of course it did. I was so upset at the fact I knew it was going to happen, but I still let her hurt me. I was relieved that she wasn't coming! It meant that she wouldn't cause drama on the day, with my mum and youngest sister (we have different dads - but she is my SISTER not half sister as my nan loves to point out) she hates my youngest sister, I have no idea why.

She didn't come to my graduation, it didn't matter. I had a brilliant day with people that do matter. I graduated with a 2:1 BSc, a 1st class dissertation and top of my class; earning two awards!

Moral of the story so far?
Ignore those who make life difficult! Don't let the bad experiences define who you are, everything is possible! I wish someone had told me this back when I was sat at the kitchen table being told university was a pie in the sky dream. 

If I can do it, so can you! :)

Much love,

Panda Girl 2

xxxxxxx