My photo
It's impossible for me to describe myself in a single paragraph because I'm still trying to find who I am. I'm seventeen and I live in an insignificant city. Sometimes I don't make very much sense but during the time I spend here I try my best. My kitten is actually the devil and I drink too much diet coke.

Thursday, 25 October 2012

untrust us

I don't think it's very healthy to wish bad things to happen to people. Especially those who matter the most to you- or used to. These thoughts have been influenced by the aftermath of a house party held three weekends ago by one of my ex boyfriends, I'll call him James for now.
 James and I broke up about 8 months ago but he started making an effort with me again between his brief encounters with other girls once he found out that I'd lost my virginity to someone I am no longer with. He's very fickle. I purposely kept my responses to his attempts to spark conversation brief and blunt to make it difficult for him. When we were together it was very one-sided because I've never been very good at voicing my feelings, even if they are there. That was why it was such a shock when he broke up with me absolutely out of the blue. The way he did it was particularly cruel so I didn't want to get close to him again, although we did end up kissing a few times when I bumped into him during Summer. But it meant nothing.
He invited me to his eighteenth birthday party. Since I'd met some of his friends before I knew they were decent enough people and I had half a bottle of vodka and some joints left from Summer I couldn't think of a good enough excuse not to go. I suspected that he'd try something with me so I convinced Tate and Ella, my closest friends to come with me just in case. My hunch was correct as he didn't even bother saying hello, instead tried to kiss me as soon as he saw me. Of course I pulled away. He was ridiculously drunk and before long was carried into another room by his brother to lay down. A tall boy with an English accent offered me a cider, so while I drank it I sat outside talking away to him and some girls wearing too much make-up. Then Tate joined us asked if we could share a joint so I went back to the house to fetch my bag which I'd left in the room James was resting in. Big mistake.
I tried to be as quiet as I could so he wouldn't notice me, but he did and found his feet. He was stumbling across the room towards the corner where I tore through a pile of coats, he refused to even sit down when I pointed out that he couldn't walk properly. I reached the door and thought I was safe but he put both arms around me. James is a good bit stronger than me so I was trapped. Fuck it, I thought and leaned in to him. He'd let me go if I did. Finally he released his arms and I saw my opportunity to disappear out the back, leaving him in no state to follow me.
For the next hour I was with Tate and Ella, smoking on the doorstep. I told them what happened and they said we could leave if I wanted. The last train had already been so I had no way to get home and I figured James would leave me alone for the rest of the night so I said I'd be fine. I was wrong. He staggered out the back and picked the spot beside me. The three of us did our best to ignore him because he as he dropped not so subtle hints at me, which we found a lot funnier than we should have. James didn't understand why were laughing and continued playing the fool. Ella went with Tate to find something to drink, I was by myself with James and my guard should have been up but everything was starting to go hazy. I leant against the glass door and silently took draw after draw, aware that he was watching me and not caring. Then I started drinking.
I'm stupid. I knew why James had invited me. I knew that I'd be drunk and vulnerable. I knew that my friends would end up deserting me. I don't know why I wanted to go to the party. But I don't think I could have predicted what happened next.
The rest of the evening is a blur. I'm not certain how I ended up in James' bed but I did. We got to that stage; I said no. I'd forgotten how shallow he was. It might have been his eighteenth birthday but he had the intelligence and personality of a selfish seven year old. Apart from his looks there is nothing that attracts me to him. Why was I happy with him? I'm hoping this realisation means I've grown as a person. His head started to run away with his mouth and he apologized for how badly he had treated me. Then he asked me again and again. Luckily I'm stubborn when I want to be and got him to back off because I was exhausted. He went back to his friends and said I could sleep there. I remember him coming in to bother me a couple of times, I got maybe an hour undisturbed.
It was Tate who woke me up. "James wants you to get out of here now." I could tell he wasn't telling me something. "Where's Ella?" He didn't answer. It was late and my head was still spinning, music still playing and awful shrieks of those still here accompanying it. I expected Ella to be with them but she wasn't. One room left to check. I walked in on Ella and James.
James saw me and carried on. Ella stared for a second then began giggling.
My first thought was that I wanted to throw up. By the time I managed to find the bathroom I didn't have to any more. I needed to go home, lock myself in my room and bury myself under the covers but there weren't any trains leaving for 7 more hours. There was nothing I could do but stay the night. Tate and I made ourselves a bed in the living room and I barely slept a wink, it was daylight by the time I drifted off. I replayed the moment in my head until I was sick of seeing it, like when you watch a film too many times. It didn't make me feel any better.
The next morning Tate and I left before anyone else was up. He didn't have the heart to tell me why James wanted me out of his bed. Now he told me how that he was glad I didn't sleep with James and horrible he thought both he and Ella were to do that to me. A tiny part of me felt guilty for leaving her there, however most of me was too numb to give a shit.
We haven't spoken since. James texted me on the Monday morning in school basically blaming me for what happened and had a go at me. I told him I didn't throw him on Ella and that he could go fuck himself. Ella messaged me: 'sorry I like him idk sorry'
Ella knows a lot about me. She's the only person I trusted enough to tell about the dreadful therapies I had to attend, who I'd slept with and how James and I broke up. She was fully aware of what he had put me through and saw how much of a wreck I was once it was over. I revealed more of myself to her than had to I had to anybody. Thinking back, I regret each and every word I confided in her. I just don’t understand because I was one of her best friends for over a year then suddenly she doesn't care about me at all because a boy she's met maybe twice in her life decides to stick his tongue down her throat.
I'm really awful at thinking of titles so instead I'm just going to name my posts after almost relevant songs. There's a Crystal Castles one for my thousands of followers. (Sarcasm doesn't seem to work very well here, oh well)

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

I can't write

I have a lot I want to say here but something's holding me back. Recently many things in my life have changed and I'd like to write about them because I don't tell others very much. I bottle most things up and when I don't, I regret telling people almost instantly. But I need to get some things out. On my previous blog I was able to write whatever I was thinking, I could be completely honest and not have to worry. Hopefully I'll eventually become that relaxed with my writing here. Perhaps I was able to write so well this morning was because I hadn't slept yet? I generally have a hard time sleeping and when I can't get over I usually end up thinking too much so obviously I'll have more to say.

urerfthsejfrisge rsgserptgdh

I don't know what the actual definition of a mental breakdown is, but I know that I have either have experienced considerable amount of them in my life or have come very close quite frequently over the last three years. Since I'm only seventeen you're probably rolling your eyes at me and think I'm just another stupid, over-reactive teenager and stop reading. You don't have to do that because that's not the case here. Although, I wish it was. My name is Yuki and I'm writing this because I need to put my thoughts somewhere.  A long time ago I used this website before; I could say whatever I wanted and take comfort that others were actually taking time out of their day to stop and listen to what I had to say. Everyone needs someone to listen sometimes and I feel like screaming because at the moment no-one listens to me.

There isn't a simple explanation for what I have. In fact, there isn't one. The NHS will not diagnose anyone under the age of eighteen with a personality disorder because apparently most adolescents displaying the symptoms of them are either hormonal or acting out for attention. At least, this is what my therapist tells me. I display every symptom of Borderline Personality Disorder and have done consistently since I started missing school in 2010.
Typically someone with borderline personality disorder will:

  • have emotions that are up and down (for example, feeling confident one day and feeling despair another), with feelings of emptiness and often anger
  • find it difficult to make and maintain relationships
  • have an unstable sense of identity, such as thinking differently about themselves depending on who they are with
  • take risks or do things without thinking about the consequences
  • self harm or think about self harming (for example, cutting yourself or overdosing)
  • have repetitive suicidal thoughts
  • fearing being abandoned or rejected or being alone
  • sometimes believe in things that are not real or true (called delusions) or seeing or hearing things that are not really there (called hallucinations).

  • I do a lot of things that are self-damaging. Sometimes I won't realise that what I'm doing isn't good for me or if I do chances are I won't give a fuck and do it anyway. It's like there's a force controlling me somehow. I don't want to be a bad person but there are times I really cannot seem to help myself. Though recently I have been trying to change. I still hate myself and can't go to school much but I've been making an effort to be nice to everyone and to get rid of the things that get me down because I'm sure having them around won't help me.

    Whether I have Borderline Personality Disorder or not, there is something definitely wrong with me. I attend therapy at an the 'Adolescent Mental Health Clinic' at least once a week and they're only allowed to stop seeing me if they can declare me as well again. But they haven't. When I first started going I thought I'd be finished in six months but to this day I'm still having to drag myself up there. During the first year I came unwell, I stopped going to school altogether; I barely left the house or spoke to anyone. Day after day I'd lay in bed and torture myself with terrifying thoughts. Eventually my mother was able to unwrap herself from her own ridiculous life and noticed that I wasn't leaving the house or eating or able to sleep despite being permanently accompanied by my duvet. After I refused to leave the house for a month she brought me to the doctors who sent an emergency referral to the clinic. Personally I thought everyone was making a big deal and I started to feel trapped. Suddenly I was being asked overly personal questions by a bald man behind a clipboard and my phone was taken away. I had no contact with any of my friends and even when I felt up to it I wasn't allowed to see my friends. I was on a downwards spiral until the next September, when I started school again.

    I'd been held back a year and allowed to change my subjects. Now I was studying things I cared about and I expected things to get easier, but they didn't. Slowly my mother restored my freedom and things went back to normal. I'd fooled her into thinking I was better and my therapist stopped asking difficult questions, I was down to an appointment a month.

    The charade didn't last. I couldn't keep up with school work, I was so stressed about missing deadlines and failing tests that I'd take days off and just sleep instead. It was easily done now that mum had gone back to work. That was when I self-harmed for the first time. My maths homework was frustrating me and I had got myself into such a state that I ended up driving the sharp end of my compass across my arm. In addition to this, I was also messing around with my ex boyfriend behind the scenes. I knew he was using me because it was casual and that there were other girls, but I needed to be close to him so I went along with it.
    Thoughts started creeping into my head again. I tried ignoring them but soon they built up so I couldn't. In April 2012 I stopped going in for the second time. I missed my GCSE modules. I have to do them all at the end of this year, but I don't think I can.

    I'm not getting any better. I've missed 12 consecutive school days and I feel worse than ever. I can't handle the work. My predicted grades were 11 As. Now I think I'll be lucky to get 7 Cs. I'm not stupid. But I can't cope with all this pressure that's being put on me. The only thing stopping me is myself and this year is my last chance to get them and that puts more fear in me than anything.