Managing Depression; Taking The First Step

One of the best steps you can do at the beginning on your struggle is talking to someone! Personally I found this the hardest step to make. It took me over a year to open up about my feelings because I had convinced myself no one would believe me and I was making a mountain out of a mole hill. I would punish myself for not being able to cope with these negative emotions, and being weak. I thought I was alone. 

This could not have been further from the truth. The strength that has to be found from within to try and continue with daily life, even when you feel close to tears, proves that is the behaviour of a strong individual. By just trying, there doesn't have to be success, shows strength. 

Turning to someone trust worthy and saying "I feel down today" is of paramount importance, and the relief when you're believed (because they WILL believe you) is soothing on its own. After I confided in my mother, I felt like a massive weight had been lifted - one that was holding me down. It took over a year, but one of the best decisions I made. 

The trustworthy person can be anyone you feel comfortable with: A teacher, friend, parent or doctor. 

If you're able to approach your GP as the trustworthy person that is brilliant! However if they weren't this is not an issue. The thought of going to the doctors terrified me - why would my GP, who I hardly ever see, want to help me? Yet again I had an irrational belief. GPs are there to help and to listen. 

It took over a year to tell my mum I am depressed. I then took a month for her to convince me to go to one of the appointment she had made for me to see my GP. The pivotal moment was when I went to my dentist appointment, and couldn't hold in my tears. I no longer could master the will to try.

During that first appointment I broke down and cried. 

It is hard to cope with depression. It is not just feeling sad for a limited amount of time, it is on going. It is feeling sad, guilty because you're feeling sad, weak because you believe there is nothing you can do, anxious by always assuming the worst and isolated - even though you try to be 'normal' and have a 'normal' day it doesn't quite work. 

What I have been learning through my journey is that everyone get sad therefore there is nothing to feel ashamed or guilty about. The majority of the population will need help at some point in their lives, this could be financially, mentally or physically; does not make you weak. Everyone has felt fear, everyone is anxious about something. Additionally it is not logical to be isolated for not being 'normal', as there is no rule book. 'Normal' does not exist. 

And The Flood Gates Opened; My First Period

And the Flood Gates Opened; My First Period

The annual year 7 school trip was to journey by coach to Paris and spend five days exploring and experiencing culture the French has to offer to broaden our understanding of the world around us (with a day trip to Disney Land Paris which was by far the best part of the residential). 

My mother had packed me a load of sanitary pads in my suitcase - even though I had asked her not to!  How embarrassing if someone saw them - right?! And just like I had predicted I had survived the whole trip thus far without staining my knickers with red. Therefore when it came to packing my suitcase to come home the thought of stashing some pads in my coach bag 'just incase' didn't even cross my mind. I was completely naive to the hormones that were about to explode... literally. 

It was a full days travelling to get back home from our hotel we were staying in, in Paris. 'Early' early we were made to climb out of our beds and onto the coach. My experience from waking up too early is that you feel sick, especially when you haven't been able to have breakfast! Therefore the ache in my stomach did not surprise me - I was expecting to be a little uncomfortable on the coach before stopping for breakfast. 

The coach wasn't helping with my stomach ache either. Wasn't the most.... comfortable. Think of the old school buses you used to get with the fabric seats that when you thumped them a whole load of dust came out? Oh! And you could never trust a crease or pocket on the seats because there was bound to be some old chewing gum stuck to the side? It was like that... but on a coach. On a coach that felt like a never ending journey going at a snails pace. The length of the journey was irritating me a lot more than it did on the way to Paris, however a massive influence of this could have been, I thought, that it was so hot. I was baking. So much so I was even sweating around my butt cheeks as I was sitting down, making it feel like I had peed my pants. 

At the first stop I ventured to the toilet. Found a cubical, pulled down my pants and saw a fresh red liquid coating the cotton of my underwear. 

I knew none of my friends had anything to help as they had yet to reach this stage of womanhood. This was it! I am now a young lady! My body has told me I am ready to bare a child and be a responsible adult! In all the novels I had read where a girl gets her first period it is described as a massive mile stone of paramount importance - a wonderful experience where she discovers what it is like to be a woman! 

This was a load of bollocks.  I. Was. Freaking. Out.

A teaspoon of blood?! A TEASPOON OF BLOOD A MONTH?! Who the hell created that lie?! They all knew! Every teacher I have ever had that taught me Sex Education lied! I bet they used to come out of the classroom chuckling to themselves - waiting for the perfect opportunity to say "Tricked ya! Now bleed to death!!!" 

I felt betrayed - but the biggest betrayal I felt was from my own mother! "Oh you will hardly notice it when it starts - its not a big deal." NOT A BIG DEAL?! There was freaking red river leaking out of my vagina! 

I questioned weather this was even normal and if I was going to die! However I can only deduce I wasn't too worried about dying because I had made the decision I could not tell any teacher; that would have been too embarrassing! Talking to Dr Fox about what was currently leaking out of my lady hole? I don't think so! Besides I had decided I couldn't bleed that much more, therefore the damage was done. I was going to keep quiet. 

This was the worst decision I could have made. 

What is missing from Sex Education in school, along the discussion of periods and puberty, is that your first period will be the heaviest mother-fucking period you'll ever have!!! Therefore, if you start your period for the first time and won't have access to any tampons or pads for the next couple of hours the WORST thing you can do is keep quiet.

By the time we had reached the second stop the red river had leaked through my jeans. I was past the point of no return. Even if I did want to ask for help I couldn't do it now! This was even more humiliating than before! I had been sitting in a puddle of my own period blood that had ventured through the fabric of my jeans. 

My horror did not stop there! Oh no, I had not been humiliated enough! As I sat up and turned around I realised the blood that had been leaking out of my vagina, through my knickers and through my jeans, was attacking the fabric of the coach chair. There was a red stain.

For the rest of the journey I had to strategically sit in the same red spot as to not make the strain more noticeable than it already was, then tie my jumper around my waist to hide the stain on my jeans when I got up. 

All of this was because I was too worried to tell a teacher in the first place. 

Lesson learnt? Always listen to your mother when she tells you to pack spare sanitary pads. 

Doing It Wrong

As the internet has so helpfully pointed out Puberty can be a helping hand for any young adolescent growing up to be a stunning member of society.... or it can be a horrifying experience with an acne filled face, evident by the awkwardly taken family photographs because you're not quite sure how to smile to make yourself look half decent. Believe me when I say I have been there!!! I did puberty wrong. Oh so wrong. 

I started off okay... I was a cute kid! Adorable - could have won baby competitions. Prospects to grow into a stunning young woman was high! I was the cutest child in comparison to my siblings (a statement they both agree on!). However this title was short lived as by the time I had started high school puberty had struck. 

As my body changed to start developing little boobies, naturally I started to become more aware of myself and more insecure to the way I looked. When confiding to my older sister how I felt, she suggested make-up. Big mistake. Huge. 

Emily is now a classy young woman, intelligent and sophisticated BUT she wasn't always. During high school Emily was a Chav. Badly spoken, orange faces, trackie wearing chav complete with the metal chain given to her by the high school sweetheart and MASSIVE gold earrings. I idolised her (my taste in fashion wasn't great either).    

Being Emily's younger sister wishing to be just like her, the thought of getting a makeover from my fashion icon was amazing. The morning of being my sisters canvas for creativity I marched into school proudly with my head held high. Other students would stop and turn to me, and I thought "That's right! I am amazing!" Swaying my hips to the musical going on inside my head. 

The tiny hint that something wasn't quite right came from my best friend Molly. Molly said what she thought and was lovingly brutal. I will never forget those words she said to me as I walked into our tutor room that morning.

"What the fuck happened to you?!" 

They brought my musical to a sharp end. I never looked in the mirror this morning - assuming I looked like my older sister. However what I came face to face with as Molly offered her little compact mirror was an orange beast with spider leg eye lashes and trashy hair extensions. I had so much eye make-up on it was impossible to remove without make-up wipes (unfortunately no one I knew had reached the stage of applying blusher at school) and the Matt foundation was wiped on so thickly I couldn't find my skin under the layers of what resembled orange peal. As a consequence I had to walk around school for the rest of the day as if I was a umpalumpa from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

One of the life lessons I had learnt was always check the foundation being used is your colour and not three shades darker. But this was not the only lesson I learnt - oh no. This was the experience that just kept on giving. 

Lesson number two - never assume a shower has removed ALL your orange peel, especially when it had been layered on thick. Always go over your face with a make-up wipe just incase. I did not know this. 

I had my shower that night then happily went to bed thankful my umpalumpa days were behind me. I woke up, looked in the mirror. 

I can only assume I had not removed all of the foundation from the night before, as what grated me in the mirror did not look healthy. I was covered in angry looking, puss filled spots all over my face. One small mistake and my skin decided to use this as a gateway to play havoc. An excuse to misbehave. 

This was the start of a four year battle with acne, and the downhill spiral of my experience with puberty.