Tuesday, 16 October 2012
Monday, 8 October 2012
Think
Have you ever really stopped and thought about things properly? Have you ever really considered what would happen if what you've been talking about doing really happened?
Note: People struggling with eating disorders are never far away from suicide attempts.
Okay, story time.
You lie crumpled on your floor, in a small ball to hide the tears that continuously streak down your cheeks. You've thought about this a long time, and you're finally ready. It was a bad day today. People were mean; people ignored you. You have no friends, no reason for being; you're a mistake on the fabric of the world. You shift over slightly, revealing the folded note lying before you. It's torn and broken now. You've taken it out and rewritten it a thousand times now, but, at last, it's finished.
Mum, Dad, Ella,
I love you all so much! I'm so sorry, but I just can't deal with this anymore. This isn't like when people say they're lives are awful. Mine really is. I've thought this through, no one will miss me really. I'll be okay, and this way I can start again somewhere new. I don't care anymore, okay. Everyone hates me. Nobody gives a damn. I'm so sorry, and I will always, always love you.
With that you get to your feet, run to the bathroom cabinet, and take out the bottle of tablets - the ones that were supposed to help you deal with your headaches. You go back into your room, lie on your bed, and swallow the entire bottle. Then you close your eyes, and wait.
Only an hour later, your little sister, five year old Ella, runs up the stairs to tell you dinners ready. She knocks frantically on your door, squeeling out your name. When you don't answer, she pushes aside the door and runs into your room. She jumps on your bed and tells you to wake up, but you don't move.
Another hour later, your limp body is packed inside of an ambulance, your mother by your side. She is crying and telling herself that it was all her fault. She says to shouldn't have been so hard on you; shouldn't have pushed you so much. She killed you. Your father hugs Ella outside, his face expressionless. He doesn't know it, but he will remain in an empty shell, far away from his family for the rest of his life. He will not smile for five years, and will not laugh ever again. He blames himself for every harsh word he ever shot at you; he killed you. Your sister doesn't understand what's happening. She's too young, but one day she will, and you will always be her role model. She won't remember you, but she'll blame herself, just as anyone would. She killed you.
Next Monday morning, the school is informed of your death. There is an announcement in your tutor group, telling the class first, before the rest of the school. Your best friend falls apart, wondering why she didn't talk to you last Friday. She was too upset because her parents were splitting up, but she should have talked to you about it. She should have been there for you. She runs out of the room and into the corridor, where she falls to the floor and cries. She doesn't properly stop crying for months, and even then she will never forget. She killed you.
Your other friends are teary wrecks, tearing themselves apart. It was their fault. They shouldn't have pretended to hate you, it was so mean. They shouldn't have laughed at you when you slipped up. They killed you. Your old best friend, the one that didn't talk to you for years; the one that turned into a s**t and hated you for being you, screams. She runs to the bathroom and wipes her makeup off, smearing it all over her face. She brushes her dead hair, pulling it out and crying through the pain. She remembers how much you hated her for what she became; she remembered how much you hated her hair; she remembered how much you missed the old her. She doesn't know it then, but when she grows up, she'll become a nun, and never touch another boy ever again. She hates herself for hating you, and treating you like nothing. She killed you.
That boy that you used to like, and who liked you back, but always made fun of you, goes quiet for days. He remebers how you used to stare at him, but how he pretended to hate you. You weren't good enough for him. He turns gay, and never looks at another girl again. You were the only one for him, but he never told you. He killed you. His best friend makes friends with completely different people and never talks to him again. He knew that he liked you, but he always told him it was stupid. He blames himself. He didn't let you two be together. He killed you.
In assembly, the headteacher annonces to the whole school that you killed yourself. There is silence in the room for about a second, and then there are gasps, and mad sobs from around the room. Your ex runs off and locks himself in the toilets. He doesn't come out until the end of the day. He should have never broken up with you. He always loved you, and always will. He never told you, though. You weren't cool enough...but you were. He killed you.
Your other friends freeze and shout, cry and scream, expressing their emotions in their own ways. They all hate themselves. They should have listened to you more. They shouldn't have made fun of you. They should have included you more. They killed you.
That was your life, over at such a young age. Truth is, though, none of those people killed you. YOU did, and you left everyone behind to blame themselves. They all loved you so, so, much, even the ones that bullied you. There's no easy way out, and no matter how bad you think things are, you'll always be loved. Act now, and fix the bonds with the people that you think hate you. They don't, not really. Life is everything. Don't waste it; you matter so, so much.
Note: People struggling with eating disorders are never far away from suicide attempts.
Okay, story time.
You lie crumpled on your floor, in a small ball to hide the tears that continuously streak down your cheeks. You've thought about this a long time, and you're finally ready. It was a bad day today. People were mean; people ignored you. You have no friends, no reason for being; you're a mistake on the fabric of the world. You shift over slightly, revealing the folded note lying before you. It's torn and broken now. You've taken it out and rewritten it a thousand times now, but, at last, it's finished.
Mum, Dad, Ella,
I love you all so much! I'm so sorry, but I just can't deal with this anymore. This isn't like when people say they're lives are awful. Mine really is. I've thought this through, no one will miss me really. I'll be okay, and this way I can start again somewhere new. I don't care anymore, okay. Everyone hates me. Nobody gives a damn. I'm so sorry, and I will always, always love you.
With that you get to your feet, run to the bathroom cabinet, and take out the bottle of tablets - the ones that were supposed to help you deal with your headaches. You go back into your room, lie on your bed, and swallow the entire bottle. Then you close your eyes, and wait.
Only an hour later, your little sister, five year old Ella, runs up the stairs to tell you dinners ready. She knocks frantically on your door, squeeling out your name. When you don't answer, she pushes aside the door and runs into your room. She jumps on your bed and tells you to wake up, but you don't move.
Another hour later, your limp body is packed inside of an ambulance, your mother by your side. She is crying and telling herself that it was all her fault. She says to shouldn't have been so hard on you; shouldn't have pushed you so much. She killed you. Your father hugs Ella outside, his face expressionless. He doesn't know it, but he will remain in an empty shell, far away from his family for the rest of his life. He will not smile for five years, and will not laugh ever again. He blames himself for every harsh word he ever shot at you; he killed you. Your sister doesn't understand what's happening. She's too young, but one day she will, and you will always be her role model. She won't remember you, but she'll blame herself, just as anyone would. She killed you.
Next Monday morning, the school is informed of your death. There is an announcement in your tutor group, telling the class first, before the rest of the school. Your best friend falls apart, wondering why she didn't talk to you last Friday. She was too upset because her parents were splitting up, but she should have talked to you about it. She should have been there for you. She runs out of the room and into the corridor, where she falls to the floor and cries. She doesn't properly stop crying for months, and even then she will never forget. She killed you.
Your other friends are teary wrecks, tearing themselves apart. It was their fault. They shouldn't have pretended to hate you, it was so mean. They shouldn't have laughed at you when you slipped up. They killed you. Your old best friend, the one that didn't talk to you for years; the one that turned into a s**t and hated you for being you, screams. She runs to the bathroom and wipes her makeup off, smearing it all over her face. She brushes her dead hair, pulling it out and crying through the pain. She remembers how much you hated her for what she became; she remembered how much you hated her hair; she remembered how much you missed the old her. She doesn't know it then, but when she grows up, she'll become a nun, and never touch another boy ever again. She hates herself for hating you, and treating you like nothing. She killed you.
That boy that you used to like, and who liked you back, but always made fun of you, goes quiet for days. He remebers how you used to stare at him, but how he pretended to hate you. You weren't good enough for him. He turns gay, and never looks at another girl again. You were the only one for him, but he never told you. He killed you. His best friend makes friends with completely different people and never talks to him again. He knew that he liked you, but he always told him it was stupid. He blames himself. He didn't let you two be together. He killed you.
In assembly, the headteacher annonces to the whole school that you killed yourself. There is silence in the room for about a second, and then there are gasps, and mad sobs from around the room. Your ex runs off and locks himself in the toilets. He doesn't come out until the end of the day. He should have never broken up with you. He always loved you, and always will. He never told you, though. You weren't cool enough...but you were. He killed you.
Your other friends freeze and shout, cry and scream, expressing their emotions in their own ways. They all hate themselves. They should have listened to you more. They shouldn't have made fun of you. They should have included you more. They killed you.
That was your life, over at such a young age. Truth is, though, none of those people killed you. YOU did, and you left everyone behind to blame themselves. They all loved you so, so, much, even the ones that bullied you. There's no easy way out, and no matter how bad you think things are, you'll always be loved. Act now, and fix the bonds with the people that you think hate you. They don't, not really. Life is everything. Don't waste it; you matter so, so much.
Welcome!
So here I am, sitting alone in my bedroom with my music blaring through my speakers and my door shut. I'm not about to be disturbed. So here we go.
Three years ago, my older sister was diagnosed with the eating disorder, Anorexia.
Since then, we have all been trying to comfort and help her as much as we possibly can.
Those days were some of the scariest in my life; I will never be able to shake the fear of thinking I'm about to lose her.
This blog is here to help those going through the same thing, whether you're worried you have an eating disorder, or you're a friend or family member of someone who does.
No matter what, I'm here to help you. Please feel free to ask for advice or ask me questions at any time.
I'm not about to patronize you or mock you as I know some people do.
I know what you're going through, and I really, honestly, want to help.
Three years ago, my older sister was diagnosed with the eating disorder, Anorexia.
Since then, we have all been trying to comfort and help her as much as we possibly can.
Those days were some of the scariest in my life; I will never be able to shake the fear of thinking I'm about to lose her.
This blog is here to help those going through the same thing, whether you're worried you have an eating disorder, or you're a friend or family member of someone who does.
No matter what, I'm here to help you. Please feel free to ask for advice or ask me questions at any time.
I'm not about to patronize you or mock you as I know some people do.
I know what you're going through, and I really, honestly, want to help.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)