pacing

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
my piece or essay i am publishing is a piece from my autobiography , which is currently in progress. having the life i had , i had to find an outlet. multiple actually, but the big one that would only lead to more progress and healing. i had to find something bigger than me , bigger than the people making me so miserable. it was the only way to save my life. Here’s a part of what I’ve been writing.

Submitted: April 18, 2019

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Submitted: April 18, 2019

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It was 2012 , i was a freshman in high school. Hawhorne High School. It was an ordinary school day and i can honestly say i was dreading the day ahead of me, which was actually normal. I was afraid of school. Everyday , being taunted and teased , it started to have an affect on me. Ive already had the displeasureable feeling of despair constantly heavy on my chest. It quickly became fear. I feared what would happen next. I feared being seen. That day all i could remember is... I want to disappear.

Despite my ill feelings , i couldn't let that type of thought defeat me. I had to fight. All i could think about was how much i was already failing. Falling into that thought was not an option for me. Failure was not an option. I went to school repeating those exact words , hoping it would all be okay.

The whole way there i had a heavy feeling on my chest. I was beyond stressed out and filled with fear but all i could think about was not failing. I did want to disappear , but i did not want to disappoint my family. I had always been "okay" and i wanted things to stay that way. If that meant faking it until the day was over , fine. I was willing to do anything. I just didn't know it'd be so hard. I didn't know what i walking into. 

As i walked into school , the feeling on my chest grew stronger and stronger. It became so heavy. I wanted to just breath but the last breath i took felt the sharpest and the hardest to release , almost as if it was stuck. I didn't make it very far before i began to panic. The last breath i had to take was suffocating me.

 My feet were stuck to the spot i was standing in and it seemed as if the air was getting hotter. Trying to breath had become unbearable on my chest and the heat was making me dizzy, the only thing i thought to do was run to the girls restroom to sit a while before heading to class. Till this day im so happy and sad that i made that decision. 

I carried myself as best i could to the girls restroom. To my luck it was empty , i could rest , i could breathe. The only negative i believed i had in that restroom was that i was alone with all my thoughts and insecurities but there were plenty more negatives. I was alone with my thoughts and insecurities , i was also still in a panic. I believed the time i needed to breath would help but it did not. I only spiraled deeper into my thoughts and before i knew it panicking turned into what seemd liked an anxiety attack.

I had no knowledge of anxiety at that time. I wasn't aware of any mental health illnesses or emotional disorders. Although the feeling was all to familiar , i couldn’t put my pain into words. I could never figure out why my body reacted the way it did. 

My chest , the heat , the diziness , it all frightened me. My thoughts on the other hand frightened me more. They were so loud , so forceful. I felt like my thoughts were causing me so much stress that i started to have a heart attack. It was just the worst pain , it made me think back to all the pain i've felt ever, all the emotional and physical pain i've had to endure because of others. It made me angry. I didn't feel i deserved this. 

My anger took over me. I remember thinking , "What'd i do to anybody?" and i broke down. My chest was still inflamed and my mind began racing with all these questions that i had no answers for. Who was i to answer for even such a small popoulation of humanity ? I was nobody and at that point i truly felt it.

I wanted my sufferingin the restroom to come to an end but i didn't want to face anybody. I didn't want to be seen. If i was to make myself okay and go on like nothing happened , i'd just break again. I'd just fall all over. A process i was truly getting tired of. It became more work then school , it became more work then home and i was exhausted... this next part isn't the easiest to talk about. It was a point in my life I thought I could keep quiet if I hid just enough.

It ended in self harm. I cut myself that day ... on the wrist. I just wanted to all stop for once. I reached a point of no return and i was angry. 

After self-harming i stayed sitting , hoping , i wouldn't be any where near here when i woke up. I wanted what i did to work. I stayed letting myself fall and convincing myself that , that was the end. 

I was ready to give everything up. I was ready to quit. I made that choice and I wasn’t changing my mind. I didn’t want to be saved.

 As i was sitting there crying out the rest of my pain , a girl came in and she saw me. She followed the sounds of my sniffling and came to ask if i was okay. I believed she could see a little blood from the where she was standing because her voice became frantic as she began offering help. I was already accepting , so her trying to help me made me feel bitter. I felt as if she was trying to cheat me. For a long time, i had no desire to be where i was and now , after all this time , Im being saved ? 

While she may have felt empathy , i felt embarassed. The whole point was to leave everything behind without a story , without some huge scene. I didn't want the attention but I couldn't fight anymore. I may have had a plan and i may have been upset but i was so hurt and exhausted that i just gave up the fight and let her help me.

I let the principal call 911 and i let them take me to a mental hospital. My first time going out of 6 times in total. That’s another story.

I didn't have it in me to fight. I had been fighting myself that whole morning and i just wanted some help. I was so focused on not failing everyone else , i eneded up failing myself. 

The thought of  getting help was a bit overwhelming for me. What I’d done had been a secret for so long. I wasn’t ready to speak up about anything. I wasn’t ready to face myself . I know now it was a blessing. I was gonna get help and I was gonna live. Something I’d just have to accept. 

 

 

That’s the end of my first piece from the autobiography I’m writing. I’ve been through alot since the very beginning. I want to share my story to other young girls and young women. I have alot more to share i'd just love to know what you think of this so far. 


© Copyright 2020 Denise1206. All rights reserved.

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