The Gift Of Life

Standard

I would be lying if I said I have never considered ending my life. Lying face down on my bed with tears rolling down my cheeks, it’s not hard to think about how it would feel to be able to end it all. But today, an Instagram photo that melted my heart gave me a whole new perspective on life.

Everyone has people or things they live for. For me, I LOVE The Vamps, a band from England. But that’s all for another day, another post. For almost two years now, I’ve watched the Sacconejolys, a daily vlogging channel almost every single day. Even when I feel like things cannot get any worse, I ALWAYS feel better after watching their videos, because their lives are filled with so much love and it’s impossible to not let their contagious smiles make me smile.

Today, their third child, a baby girl was born. Just from watching their vlogs, I know that things haven’t been easy for them either. In May, they had a miscarriage, and even then, they received a lot of negative comments, and it took a lot of courage for them to keep sharing their lives. Point is, life is a bitch. But if we keep fighting, at some point, we’re gonna be grateful for all the adversity we overcame. Notice I used the word ‘WE”. You are not alone. We are in it together, and although it might not feel like it will ever get better, we just have to hope that soon, the day we feel that surge of gratitude and happiness will come.

If this photo doesn’t pull at your heartstrings, I don’t know what will. Just for some context and extra tears, the tattoo on Jonathan’s hand represents the baby they lost, because he had nicknamed the baby squid just like he did with his other two children as babies.

Screen Shot 2017-03-31 at 10.34.22 PM.png

Sending my love 🙂

xx

“Is She Depressed Or Something?”

Standard

So where do I start? I’m just frustrated out of my mind just thinking about these five words, but these are words that came out of my friend’s mouth when we were talking about a girl I used to be friends with. Just for the sake of this post, let’s call her Kara. Honestly, I have no idea what Kara is going through, but I’ve noticed for quite a while that she hasn’t been happy. I know because that feeling is no stranger to me. I recognize the empty glare. I swallow hard every time I recognize that sad empty smile I know I give others sometimes. But the thing is, I just CANNOT deal with this girl. I see her every day, and she sits across me at the lunch table, but she manages to irritate me in every way possible. Everyone seems to think that I like her, and when people find out that I don’t, they tell me “but you’re so nice to her”.

I’m writing a blog post on this because I want to know, am I a horrible person for not asking her about how she’s feeling? We all have people we just can’t stand, and for me, Kara’s one of them. It’s no secret that she goes to the counselor often, and it kills me everytime someone says something like “is she depressed or something?”. Yet, I say nothing about it. I just stop talking and resist the urge to storm off to be alone. The girl’s not popular, but it scares me to think how many people have pretended to be her friend, INCLUDING me. Every time these thoughts pass through my head, I feel guiltier and like I’m less of a human. I feel like a hypocrite, because I am. I know I don’t want to be friends with her, but why can’t I bring myself to stick up for her? I can’t imagine what its like to have all those insensitive and uneducated things said about me behind my back, but I also don’t know what to do. I know this post is a little short and isn’t all glamorous, but when I started this blog, I promised to tell the truth. I promised myself that no matter how ugly, I would be honest. I told myself that if I can’t be honest about myself and my experiences anonymously, I will never be able to sort through my thoughts. I really hope I haven’t disappointed you guys, but I really need some advice because I can’t live every day like this. I can’t stand up for something online and not stand up for someone when they truly need it the most.

Please please comment below.

Sending my love 🙂

xx

Never “Just a Story”

Standard

When I started this blog, I knew I wanted to talk about my feelings and share a part of my life online, but I also knew that I wanted to post some of the stories or pieces I’ve written. Often, the pieces I’ll be sharing will be ones that I wrote for school, but that doesn’t mean they don’t mean a lot to me. Many people think that the stories they write are “just stories”, and have little to do with them, but I have recently begun to understand that a story tells us a lot about the author, regardless of how fictitious it is. The story I am about to share with you is one I wrote for English class, and with a word limit, I wasn’t really able to end it the way I wanted to, but I am quite proud of it. It is not based on a true story, but when I was given the assignment, I knew I wanted to write from the perspective of an unhappy or suicidal girl, and in first person point of view. I wrote this about the time when I first started toying with the idea of starting a blog to deal with the thoughts I couldn’t quite comprehend. So without any more dawdle, here it is.

 

I didn’t know what death felt like until I died. Shadows followed me. Until they didn’t. Those last few days, I hid under my covers, trying to escape not the rays of sunlight, but the lurking shadows. My thoughts caved in, and I bought a one-way ticket for departure. It wasn’t always like this. But that was how it ended.

Those who only knew me before the summer I turned ten would describe me as an extrovert. I’m not really one for labels, but I really was the concrete image of an extrovert. I was a social butterfly. My fondest memories are of when my mother had tea parties, where she seemed to be no different from all the other mums blowing into their petty china teacups.

But you see, my mother isn’t like all the others. I once asked her to tell me a bedtime story. I never asked for one again. She came into my bedroom, her auburn hair in a disheveled bun, her lab coat stained and fringed. Tucked into my bed, I closed my eyes and listened to her hushed voice as she told me the story of her first and last autopsy. The images of the sticky damp blood, the merciless scalpel, and shattered skull are forever ingrained in my head. From that night onwards, I swore to myself never to follow my mother’s footsteps.

With my mother working at home, I was never allowed into her room. “My room is my lab. No different from a study.” she reminded me whenever she suspected my curiosity levels were rising. One morning during the summer I turned ten, I walked across the room I passed every day, but instead found the door slightly open, urging me to take a look inside. My fingers closed around the rusty knob, and from that moment on and the few weeks that followed, I discovered more of mother’s secrets than I ever would have wished for.

Most people would describe their mother’s room smelling of flowers, her perfume, or her favourite candle. My mother’s room had smelt of disinfectant and latex gloves. It wasn’t long before my mother’s sharp fingernails pinched the back of my t-shirt and hauled me out of the room, but I distinctly remember the row of colourless perfume bottles that sat on the windowsill, and the dark crimson velvet curtains drawn behind it. The velvet curtains seemed to have lost its silkiness, heavily slumped from the curtain rail, awaiting the day they would be draped, finally letting the warm glow of the sun into the dark suffocating room. The light behind the ajar door shone on the glass bottles as they glistened icily. The shadows swayed, mirroring the liquid inside. Although I have long since given up on finding an explanation for the inexplicable liquid I came across in my mother’s room that night, I am here to tell my story, one last time.

Long story short, my life was an experiment. My mother wasn’t a mother. She valued her life’s work more than anything a child could ever bring her. When I stepped onto the train track and watched the driver go pale as my eyes locked with his, I whispered a faint apology and assured myself that it was the only way to win. I have no regrets. With me gone, the shadows have nowhere to follow me. I have beaten my mother’s game. Why live to tell a story when you can tell it from start to end.

 

Right, so that’s it, I really hope you liked it. Please please comment below and give me feedback because it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you!

Sending my love 🙂

xx

 

IGCSE- The Pressures From Within Myself

Standard

If you’re not familiar with the IGCSE curriculum, it is a course you take in 9th and 10th grade (or year 10 and 11) to prepare for the IB (International Baccalaureate), A-levels, or other Junior and Senior year courses. It is the international equivalent of the GCSEs that are taken in the UK. As a student in my first year of IGCSE who strives for straight As and even better, A*s, I can tell you that it is not easy.

Many teenagers believe their main source of stress is the pressures from their parents to do well in school. But for me, the only person I am afraid to disappoint is myself. My parents are the two most supportive people I know, and I owe them a lot. If I don’t do as well on a test or project as I would have liked, what my parents will think is not the first thing I think of. For most of my peers, it is. I sometimes wonder if I would have preferred my parents to be like the others, who get mad when I don’t get a certain grade. I wonder if it would be easier. If it would be easier to overcome the fear of disappointing my parents instead of getting over the fear of disappointing myself. To those who face anxiety due to the fear of being judged or letting down others, they say to do things for yourself and no one else, but no one ever really thinks about people like me, who can’t ever seem to be satisfied with themselves.

So many of my peers carelessly make comments like “oh, of course, she gets a 7” (a 7 is an equivalent to an A+ or A*). These people aren’t just those who don’t ever seem to put in any effort in their school work, and blame their grades on everything but themselves. At times, my friends are guilty of saying such things too. No one ever realises that it’s not a compliment. I was guilty of saying such things too, until I realised how much it hurts to have it said to you. It hurts because it feels like no one ever understands how much work I put in to achieve the things I have achieved. But I’m human. I don’t always do as well as I would have liked, no matter how much I study. So when I hear comments like that being said about me, I feel like shit because when they ask me what I got, and I tell them I didn’t get a 7, they all make that same face and I feel myself crumpling from within. I know it isn’t just me who is affected by such careless comments that are supposedly meant to make me feel good. My grades matter so so much to me, but sometimes I just want everything to stop.

This academic year, I’ve realised that time has passed really really quickly, and not in the way it does when you’re at a friends house and having fun. There just seems to be so much to do that I can’t afford losing any time at all. I’ve given up so many of the things I loved to do, and I’ve rejected far too many offers to go out with my friends. I tell myself I’m going to thank myself in the future, but these days, I’m more uncertain than ever. If I feel so numb because it seems like there is no time to think about my feelings and my mental health declines, how am I ever going to be grateful for the way I “lived” in High School? Sure, I may get into a good university, but won’t it be the same deal there? I just wonder if things are ever going to get easier, or if I’m ever going to let myself make things easier for myself.
For anyone another person (especially teens) out there who feels similarly, I want you to know that you are not alone. You don’t always have to be strong. Sometimes, I go home, get into my bed, and just cry. I don’t always feel better after it, but at least I know that I’m feeling something.

It has only been a week since I started this blog, but the support has been incredible. I want to thank every single one of you so much, because despite everything that’s happening in my life, reading your comments and your blogs make me feel better. I feel like you guys are the silver lining to all this.

Sending my love 🙂

Xx

“It’s just a mental block”

Standard

So today I’m happy to report that I had a pretty great day. Despite it being a Monday and having the flu that everyone at school seems to have right now, I felt happy. I think it helped that my first class was the one class I wouldn’t give up for anything: Enterprise. I’m not going to give a boring course overview or anything, but I thought you should know that I go to an International School, take IGCSE, and am interested in starting a social enterprise of some kind in the future. The teacher is great, and even though I often feel drained on a Monday morning just thinking about the week I have ahead of me, I always walk out of first block feeling happier. But most days, my mood rapidly goes downhill from there, and it’s definitely not just because it’s a Monday. I know that if I allow myself to feel pride and accomplished, I feel happy. So I guess it was a combination of being praised in my first class, getting a pretty good grade on my English essay, and getting through a pretty really intense track session were the things that made me feel better about myself today. Anyways, I just wanted to keep note of this so I could look back and remember the days I felt good, and remind myself that life isn’t always so bad.

Now, back to Sunday. I really love Basketball, and even when I’ve felt horrible, I’ve always loved playing Basketball. Yesterday, I was thinking a lot about this, and I know a part of me was afraid that Basketball would also be taken away from me. And so what happened at the game kind of broke me. I made quite a few shots in the first quarter and then missed five or six wide open layups after that. Even if that means nothing to you, it sure as hell meant a whole lot to me. Fear started to kick in, and my hands started vaguely trembling. At every Time Out, my coach assured me “it’s just a mental block”. Thing is, it wasn’t assuring AT ALL. All I could think was that if he knew what was going on in my head, those words wouldn’t have passed through his lips. Every missed layup felt like a punch in the stomach, and even though our team ended up winning the game, I was incredibly disappointed in myself. Thinking back on it a couple hours later, I realised that I’ve walked away from pretty big losses feeling better because even though Basketball is a team sport, for me, working hard at it has always been something that could make me feel accomplished. But yesterday, I let the voices in my head get to me. I was on the verge of running out of the gym and locking myself in a toilet cubicle. It scares me to think about how close I was to declaring defeat. In the heat of the moment, it felt like nothing in the world was going right. But the truth is, it was just a Basketball game. Life is tough, but we can’t let all the little things get to us. If only we could remember such words when we really need them.

I congratulate you if you read the entire post, because I must apologize, it must have been quite a boring one. Here’s a little question to ponder on and perhaps you could answer it in the comments below: What would you do if someone told you all you had to do was get past your “mental block”?

Sending my love 🙂

xx

Better Off Unhappy

Standard

Some days, I wake up and I feel fine. Except the voice in the back of my head stays lingering telling me I don’t deserve to be happy. But on those days when I simply feel more like myself, I can conjure up the strength to ignore such thoughts. I can sit there with my friends and laugh about the stupidest things and gossip like any other teenage girl out there. But sometimes, I wake up knowing the day is going to be a rough one. Sometimes, I start a day feeling great but end up feeling like shit by noon. Instead of talking to others, I dig myself a deeper hole by putting on earphones, listening to music, and avoiding eye contact. I even restrict my music choices, as if I’m afraid cheerful music will make me happy again, and I’m better off being unhappy and feeling numb. I know some of my friends have started to notice. I’ve been given sad looks and been asked, “are you ok?” But I don’t want the pity, nor do I want to talk about my feelings with them. I tell them I’m “just tired” and put on a fake smile, but in reality, I feel tired of life, and faker than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m a stronger believer of Marilyn Monroe’s saying  “A smile is the best makeup a girl could wear”, so knowing that so often, I smile not because I’m happy, but to satisfy others, makes me feel horrible. In my last post I wrote about the teacher who told me I could talk to her if I wanted to, and so I’ve been thinking, what on earth could I ever say without me sounding crazy? I don’t understand why I feel the way I do, and why I don’t want to do anything about it. Have any of you ever felt this way? How did you get help when every part of your body seems to be telling you that you’re better off feeling this way?

On a separate note, I would like to thank every single one of you who have read my first post, especially to those who commented. It really does make me feel like this blog might be worth posting on.

I Just Need A Place To Figure Things Out

Standard

Welcome to my very first blog post. No one might ever read this, but like my title says, I just need a place to figure things out. This year, I feel like my life has changed a lot. I wish I could say there was one event that changed me, that made me feel this way, but there isn’t. I won’t be giving out much personal information- I know, that’s ironic, because all I’m really going to be talking about is myself, but what I mean is I can’t give out certain things like my name, my school, etc. However, I will start by saying I am a 14-year-old girl who is simply trying to understand the complex thoughts going through her mind. For the past couple of months, I’ve had all these thoughts in my head about how I feel, and the possibility of starting a blog has been sitting in the back of my mind for a while now. Today, one of my teachers asked me if everything was okay, or if something had happened. I replied by saying that I was fine, but the way in which I said it, I know obviously showed I wasn’t but I just didn’t want to talk about it. She told me that if I ever wanted to talk, she would be there with two ears to listen. I thanked her and walked away. That was when I knew I needed to start my blog, because unconsciously, I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to talk to or communicate with someone somehow about my thoughts, but I still can’t quite bring my thoughts together into words. I feel like this blog is just the beginning of self-discovery- yes I know that’s the cheesiest thing you have ever heard, but in my mind, that’s exactly what I intend to do with this blog. If anyone has read this, and somehow managed to read till the end, I thank you, and I hope you keep reading because I hope that other people can relate to or learn from all this babble. Tell me about your stories in the comments below, and I’ll make sure to check out your blog too.

Sending all my love 🙂

xx