Maybe I’ll go, before I fall to pieces

Starting a blog with lyrics from Razorlight is always fun. I remember when I was around 11 and I got this CD at the airport for my Walkman  CD player (HAH just proves that I am as old as I feel!) and I constantly played ‘before I fall to pieces’. When I was 11 I had no idea what it meant and now when I listen to the song I have some idea, if you want to listen to it here is the link. Anyway I’m not writing today to give you the Pros and Cons of a Walkman, although I might save that for later. The title reminds me of how I feel in driving test situations! 

Last year I wrote a list of all the things I wanted to do in 2013, some I achieved my nose piercing, my change in hair colour, my tattoo, passing my exams, getting into univeristy. Some of them I know have a great chance of happening this year, such as recording an EP (finally). There is one on there though that sticks out and pisses me off endlessly, get my driving license. Aha there we go, the big one. Get that damn bit of card and paper that says I’m allowed to drive in my car without an adult. Sounds easy, right? Wrong. More than anything else driving stresses me out. Not the actual driving a car I’m generally a good driver but knowing I have to take a test at the end of it. 

Now I’ve done well over my 40 hours by now, I’ve passed the theory, I’ve taken 3 different tests. The problem? A mix of general driving test nerves, awful anxiety issues and memories of past tests. I’ve moved now and I thought that would be enough but I’m still terrified, we have a DOUBLE roundabout. Who even invented those? So while I’ve seen loads of people I went to school with in their own cars, effortlessly driving I’m still the idiot who can’t pass. I’ve had the BS from everyone of ‘don’t think like that’, ‘everyone is different’ blah blah blah. I honestly think that if I hadn’t had such an awful examiner in Basingstoke then I would have been ok. I had them for 2/3 tests, for the first they were fine, for the second they turned into the bloody devil. After sighing when I done anything wrong, raising their voice to me when I chose the safest thing to do and just being a general arse I fell to pieces. After a long appeal where I was called a liar (don’t even get me started) I had to pay once again and was not granted the promise I wouldn’t have them again. The third test was nothing more than hilarious, I was awful!  Here is a tip for you all, don’t take your driving test the day before you get the most important results of your life! 

All this said, I will attempt it again and again. I think this is one of THE main areas my anxiety can take hold of my life. While people say ‘don’t let it’ my fellow anxiety sufferers will know that this isn’t something you can switch on and off. I’m going to try and carry on this year, not because it’s new years but because my theory test runs out in September. After going out with my Dad tonight (and only almost killing us 4 times…I kid, I kid!) I’m feeling a bit better and one day I might actually enjoy driving! 

Take the next exit out of my brain

I’ve realised that I need to be honest in my blog, it may not always be interesting but I did say I would be brutally honest about my experience as a fresher. For the first time in my life the university has taken an interest in my mental health and sometimes I think it makes certain people feel better that they are helping someone with a condition. Don’t get me wrong I am really grateful that people are there to help me and support me if I need it but sometimes it just doesn’t work.

The last 4 years of my life have been spent with depression (diagnosed or not) and so now I’m pretty used to it. I’ve gone from the past 4 years of people in education seeing me as a problem and people around me not really knowing how to help. As for the doctors? I can think of a few who should re take whatever classes they had on depression in teenagers. It took six different doctors to get a diagnosis for depression and anxiety because I was a teenager and it all had to do with my moods. Bull shit did it. It took so long because my medical notes were selective.

I don’t know if she’ll ever read it but I’ll say here and now my mother is a saint. It’s because of her and Ali that I didn’t completely lose my head. While my head is clear I can remember the countless times she took me to doctors to explain what the bullying was doing to me physically as well as mentally. It’s because of my mum that I’m not more screwed up, because she knew when I needed time. She knew when going to school wasn’t an option because I couldn’t cope any more. For 19 years my mum has been my own personal soldier and she’s damn good at it. She might have had the schools trying to avoid her but she never gave up on making sure I was ok. She knew which doctors to take me to so they would try and intervene with the school (at one point I had well over a month off because of stress…I now think that was my anxiety.

The reason I write about my mum is because she was one of the very few people who doesn’t ask a million questions that all start with why. I’ve started reading Michael Thomas Ford’s Suicide Notes and it’s a character I can identify with. Not because I’ve ever tried to kill myself, because he hates being questioned. I’ve been given a mental health advisor and a mental health mentor and boy oh boy do they love asking how I feel and why. Sometimes I just want to shout because I do, leave me alone and I might work it out.

I’ve had various mentors, councillors, people who have been assigned to work with me ‘through my problems’ and they all either try and blame my ‘issues’ on my relationship with Ali or they try and ‘fix’ me. Both of these just piss me off on a daily basis/whenever I have to talk to them. I’m quite lucky with my advisor, he doesn’t question me, he knows I just like getting things done and out of the way. My mentor on the other hand wanted to touch on my relationship a few weeks back and that just isn’t happening. It’s not because of her, she’s lovely and very respectful it’s because of my past councillors. They all try and ‘understand’ me and then try blaming my relationship. Why do I share my boyfriends friends?, Why do I spent so much time with him?, Why am I sure we will stay together blah blah blah. In the past they’ve all tried to psychoanalyse me and pin my ‘issues’ on something. Never mind the bullying that lasted more of my teenage life and a fair bit of my childhood, it has to be the boyfriend. One of the idiot ones said we had a ‘parent-child relationship’ when I showed her a picture to make me feel less nervous. Needless to say I never went back.

Whenever people hear who have or have had a mental illness they want to analyse you. Your brain is the great attraction and they’ve all be waiting to have a look around. Here’s the secret, you take a left, then a right and get the fuck out of my brain. I guess if I’m making this post useful I have one thing to say to others who are reading. If you ever find yourself in a session and you don’t want to reply or they’re starting the brain tour then just remember you’re in control. It’s your mind, don’t let anyone put words in your mouth.

You’re kidding, right?

I trudged back to London today with a miserable face, I hate going back alone. Unfortunately I had a lecture which I don’t normally have on a Monday so I had to go ahead of Ali. Luckily I bumped into my friend Jen so the journey wasn’t as boring as I thought. I went ot a fair bit of effort to get back for this lecture, one which I believed to be important. It was, but not for the right reasons. I have just learnt that the work I have spent so long slaving over now counts for nothing, absolutely nothing. 

I’m going to keep this post short, purely because I’m now going to go and do things I wanted to do while I’ve been working on the stupid module!