I’ve said goodbye to many teachers who have supported me and whom I genuinely care about. My last day is tomorrow evening where I’ll go to prom, enjoy a meal and get my high school graduation certificate.
I’m nervous for tomorrow but also so excited. I have a beautiful dress, I’m getting my hair professionally done, I have beautiful accessories and makeup and I’m so excited!
I’m currently painting my toenails for the prom and I’m going to choose my jewellery – I’m definitely wearing my Elena vervain locket and my Elena ring as well as some of my Pandora charms.
I have a busy day tomorrow so I’m going to get some sleep. This may be the shortest blog post in the history of humanity but I want to record how I’m feeling.
I’ve come to the realisation that I’m not doing great at a subject I’ve been sudying for a year. I don’t want to quit it as I may aswell carry on to potentially recieve a pass but I’m not feeling great about it.
I keep thinking ‘I should have studied more’, ‘I should have done this – I was capable of doing this’ and ‘I’ve let myself down’. However in all these angry self-hating thoughts never have I allowed myself to think of the reasons why I’ve struggled.
The lockdowns, the not being able to do my routines, not being able to go to my appointments in person, feeling really unhappy and dealing with my OCD. All these factors and more have all added to my stress and inability to focus.
Despite knowing this, despite logically acknowledging that these things are true – I don’t believe it. I just feel bad. My brain hurts and I feel bad. I could be doing more but I’m going to go to bed.
Trigger Warning: If you are experiencing dark thoughts please don’t read further.
To give some context; I have an implant placed in my arm to stop my period, which worked up until a few months ago. I’m now going through my monthly cycle once more and all the hormones and emotions of this. (I will be seeing a medical professional soon to fix the implant or to go on the mini-pill.)
Note: I know my family reading this are going to be sad by all this – I personally don’t know why but I’m autistic and sometimes lack emotional understanding – but I don’t want to upset them. But I think it’s important to document the bad things and not just the good.
About a half hour ago; I got really upset. I was feeling insecure and then suddenly I wanted to cease to exist. I jumped to “I want to die” rather quickly in my tired brain and this was not pleasant.
And then the moment passed and I’m sort of okay again. These thoughts occur to me I’m moments of extreme anxiety or sadness. To clarify I never actually harm myself in ANY way before, during or after these thoughts occur.
The problem is that if I’m overtired; extremely stressed; upset or depressed – thoughts like I wish to be dead are inevitably more frequent.
I’m currently on my period and I’m very emotional and hormonal which added onto my exam anxiety and general depression – equals a very mentally vulnerable me.
But these semi-suicidal feelings are always at a moment of frustration and anxiety. And they never have a plan. I hate pain and I don’t really want to die – I just don’t want to live anymore.
It’s weird that I think like this but I’m concerned that I’m going to die of this in the future. It won’t be anytime soon, but maybe in about thirty years – I’m not going to have the energy to fight it anymore – not because I’m ‘old’ but because it’s a long time to deal with OCD and depression.
That being said I’m by no way encouraging other people to have this mindset. This blog post is about things I need to work through and deal with; not things for others to emulate.
If you are experiencing suicidal thoughtsplease contact The Samaritans : 116 123free of charge from any landline or mobile.
I had a choice today; a simple choice that could make a huge difference in my life.
I’ve been feeling like I don’t want to be here anymore for a few weeks now (not suicidal – just a wish to not exist). A feeling that if there was a magic button and I had a choice to remove myself from existence, I’d press it.
The world has felt bad and I’ve been feeling miserable. My OCD is bad, my self-esteem is bad and my anxiety is through the roof and whenever this happens a simple question goes through my mind “Things are always going to end up like this so what’s the bloody point?”.
I suppose it’s normal to be negative whilst being depressed but it still sucks. Knowing that I’m going to have to deal with my autism related OCD and anxiety for the rest of my life is horrible to think about and it hurts to think about.
Whilst being in this vortex of misery other aspects of your life gets sucked in too – aspects such as your schoolwork, your appearance and the tidiness of your room. As seemingly inconsequential as these three things seem, they all add up and lead to a very depressing situation.
So after all that; my choice came today. My exams are starting in the next week – exams I’m woefully underprepared for – and the thought of doing any studying felt impossible. It was physically and mentally straining to pull out my textbooks and open my laptop. I confess I nearly quit twice and I nearly threw my laptop in frustration.
But I chose to keep studying; and I ended up doing some good revision. Despite every part of me wanting to curl up in my bed and want to die – I chose to do something productive and it has made me feel better. Schoolwork feels that little bit less worrisome and I feel more in control of my life.
I’m still not feeling 100% – or even 50% but it’s a start and after today I want to keep trying.
DISCLAIMER: This is going to be a very depressing post. I’m feeling very negative surrounding my autism and differences.
Today I feel bad. I feel guilty for saying this because it’s not very positive but it’s how I am currently feeling and so I’m going to share it. I feel like a mistake of a human being. I don’t work properly. I have OCD, low self-esteem and I have autism.
It’s not even autism that makes me so wrong. My problem is myself. There is no escape from being who I am and it is becoming very difficult to deal with. The autism just adds to it.
I feel like a broken toy in a factory conveyer belt. I was the one mistake in a perfect batch of toys and no matter how hard the factory workers try, I can’t be fixed.
My brain doesn’t work properly and I’m feeling more and more aware of this fact every single day. I just want to be normal and I just want to be able to not be autistic for a day to see if what I’m feeling is autistic or just an average emotion.
My brain just doesn’t work properly. Explaining how or why is impossible – a bit like describing a colour to someone who can’t see. All I know is that there is something wrong with my brain and I can’t fix it.
I want the autism to be erased; like how the toy repairman from Toy Story 2 wipes over the signature of Andy’s name with paint, leaving him perfect. I want to be free to not have to constantly fight or give in to my OCD and I want the chance to be an average person who has the average social skills and an average brain.
It feels never ending today. It feels like I’m trapped in my own stupid brain that does not understand how to be a human. My brain does not work and consequently I do not work and there is nothing I can do except struggle.
But what do you do with the broken parts of a toy? Perhaps you make something new out of it. Or perhaps you chuck them in the bin. Time will tell.
Thanks for reading. I’m sorry if this is depressing. Bear in mind that I do not think there is anything wrong with being autistic or having mental health problems – I’m just kind of the personification of “Don’t let me get me” By P!nk today.
Today I just feel so desperately unhappy and it’shard.
On the 27th of March 2021 I will turn 18 years old – officially an adult and I have very mixed feelings about it. On one hand I’m excited to get birthday presents and cake. On the other, I feel a deep sadness.
The sadness doesn’t stem from the fact that this is my second birthday in lockdown and I can’t go out to celebrate-although that doesn’t help. My sadness is to do with the fact that I grieve the childhood I could have had, had I not had OCD.
I grieve every time I held my breath as a primary school student as I entered my bedroom due to the fear that I’d “contaminate” the room with my breath. I regret never using my iPod as a little girl because I was scared that I’d “ruin” it. I regret not playing with my toys because I thought that I was “contaminated” and would “destroy” my favourite thing. And I regret spending countless childhood birthdays crying, refusing to touch my presents and not enjoying being a kid.
A normal childhood would’ve been so easy for me if I didn’t have OCD; if a few neurological connections between synapses and nerves were different, I could’ve had a normal, happy childhood.
Whether you had mental health problems, family problems, suffered a trauma, were bullied or anything else that stopped you from enjoying your birthdays and your childhood; it can be hard to accept that you’re growing up.
I wanted to be “uncontaminated” and the way I thought other girls were like. I wanted to be able to touch my toys without showering and holding my breath before hand. And now I have managed to deal with my OCD enough to be able to touch my belongings but it was too late.
I’m nearly 18 and I no longer receive toys for birthdays and Christmas’s. I’m nearly 18 and whilst I lack the motivation to play with action figures or dolls – I grieve not being happy when I could have been and when I wanted to be.
Social media has positives. It allows us to communicate with family and friends for free. But it does come with a lot of negatives…
Whether it’s mother’s competing over whose child can make the best macaroni rocket picture or teen girls obsessing over other people’s appearances – social media has made an enormous impact on millennials and generation Z.
Something a lot of girls do is post pictures of themselves with friends. It fascinates me how most of the time the photo isn’t a memory, an event or because they’re having a good time – it’s done with fake smiles to tell their followers that they are friends and are having a great time. When you’re a teenage girl and you see two of your friends hanging out without you – it can really hurt, but at the same time many people feel obligated to post these pictures. Of course you should never not post a selfie with your friend just because you’re trying to make others feel included – all I’m saying is be yourself and don’t feel obligated to share pictures that are simply there to show you have friends – if they are true friends they’ll like you even if you don’t tag them. Also if you are one of those people who feels hurt when they see other people in massive group selfies – ones where you are neither invited to be nor part of – remember something: However happy they all seem in that photo, they are seldom that happy and friendly when the camera is off.
I’ve noticed that many very young girls’ Facebook/Instagram/Twitter profiles are of them doing the “duck face”. Young girls as young as nine are seen pouring in a provocative manner and it is really bizarre. There is something very wrong with our society when little girls are pouting on their public profile pictures.
Being a teenager is hard, growing up is hard. Growing up with social media – is terrible. I used to have Instagram (a personal account that followed my classmates etc) but all it did was make me miserable. I never even realised how miserable it made me until I was forced to take a break from it by my Mum. It had become an endless cycle of seeing other people’s perfect lives, bodies, friends and lifestyles and it made me upset. I saw the girls in my year with friends out together and celebrities looking stunning.
But when I took a step back from Instagram, (don’t get me wrong the first few weeks were frustrating, my thumb was aching to like the latest posts and scroll through my feed) but after a while, I felt relieved. What you don’t know can’t hurt you and whilst I wasn’t up to date with who was dating who or which Kardashian posted which naked selfie – I was happier.
I still look at social media but I do it either through my blog or anonymously without following anyone I know in real life. I don’t use Instagram at all other than for my blog-though I barely use it for that either – because it just makes me upset.
Talking about looks and appearances, whether they’re celebrities or classmates one thing is consistent across social media, most people look perfect. Despite the irrational idea that these celebrities really look that good at every angle at every moment. In short, no, they don’t.
To prove how easy it is to manipulate the way we look online I’ve done a little experiment of my own. I took a few pictures today of myself – not looking my best. I gave myself 25 seconds on each photo to edit or use a filter and this is what I did. Bear in mind this was in 25 seconds, imagine what someone could do with professional assistance and time spent on getting good lighting and angles.
So my advice: put your phone down, take a break from social media and do something fun. Whether it be listening to music, reading a book or making a scrapbook-just stop comparing yourself to those fake pictures.
I doubt I’ve ever been sure how to act in conversation. I take on the role of who I think I should be in different circumstances. It never really works of course, there are only so many mannerisms you can copy from people in your life before your real opinions and thoughts are revealed.
Since my diagnosis I’ve noticed that I’m acting the way I think an autistic person should act. Try that for irony? I’m even being autistic about being autistic. These days in a difficult conversation I avoid eye contact, not because I hate it or feel uncomfortable looking people in the eye, but because I feel like people understand that I am uncomfortable. I play with my sleeve and avoid eye contact because when I do this adults who know about my diagnosis (which is most people) understand how I’m feeling. I take on the persona or role of having autism despite the fact that I actually have it. I know that many autistic people dislike making eye contact so I’ve adopted that in taking upon my role.
It makes me feel guilty, like I’m stealing from people but I can’t help it. It’s both subconsious and consious, I didn’t know I was doing it at first but then I noticed it worked. People could understand the obvious signs of distress especially how I usually make good eye contact and would understand that I was feeling stressed or upset.
I’m not good at figuring out what is the right thing to say, do or think. I struggle to understand people’s feelings sometimes and this makes me sad. I get angry with myself for not being able to decipher the correct things to say, do, act or think.
So what can I do? The truth is I’m not sure but right now I’m going to watch some YouTube and distract myself from being angry with myself.
“I’m not like other girls” is usually said by edgy teenage girls with perfect makeup, hair and clothes to their hot love interest in a teenage movie but, I am actually not like other girls. I’m autistic so fitting in was never really in the cards for me and I longed to be the same as the other girls in my class – or more like the way I thought they were. My ocd basically consisted on “I’ve never seen a celebrity or person I admire do this” therefore doing it is “contaminated”. I washed my hands till they bled because I was half convinced the other girls and celebrities never had sticky fingers, never spilt food on themselves and never touched their belongings when “contaminated”. The girls that my autism, my ocd and myself want to be like is the perfect girl. This made up Disney channel character who never has ear wax, snot or any other human functions. The girl that is perfect on every social media platform and never has acne. Of course this girl doesn’t exist – I know that, I just wished I believed it as I still yearn to be her.
My ocd is centered around my desire to have friends and be accepted – something that is a result of being autistic and being bullied when I was young. I can remember the first time that I washed my hands before touching one of my belongings because I was worried about ‘ruining’ it. That way of thinking is still with me. I feel like I am the problem.
I still have the juvenile dream of being this perfect person with perfect things. I want to be perfect and “clean”. But I can’t. And whether I believe it or not, the truth is no one can. Of course as much as I know that no one is perfect, there is a big difference between knowing and accepting.
I’ve got OCD and instead of accepting that I was bullied by mean girls in primary one, instead of accepting that I have had problems making and keeping friends because I’m autistic, I have created a narrative where I think I must be, look and feel perfect in order to be accepted and liked by the other girls. But the sad thing is no matter how many times I wash my hands and avoid touching my belongings as to not “ruin” them; it doesn’t solve the impossible problem. That I am me. I sometimes struggle to make friends and I will never be able to be in a romantic relationship, get married or have kids because I’m not that type of person. *(Both of these things are not due to my mental health problems or autism- people with one or both can happily sustain relationships – this is a me thing.)*
So perhaps it’s time to stop lying. Perhaps it’s time to accept that I’m autistic and I’ve got OCD, depression and low self-esteem. Perhaps it’s time to realise I’m genuinely not like other girls and can never be. I am autistic; I am a blogger; I am a teenager; I am a good friend; A hilarious family member; Lover of jewellery and books and tv; I have back acne and weird toenails; I’m a scrapbooker; And I’m spotty, smelly, often have a uni brow and my social media, my work and my life are not perfect. Perhaps I need to start accepting this and perhaps one day I will.
I’m still not doing good. That shouldn’t be a surprise. Right now I just don’t care about anything. I’ve showered now three nights in a row giving into my OCD and it feels acceptable. Avoiding going into my room and scrapbooking due to spilling some ketchup on my leggings feels acceptable now.
I can’t care enough to study. I can’t make myself care enough to try and cope. I’m not sitting and crying and I’m not depressed enough to not care about contamination but I’m by no means happy.
I was so anxious about contaminating my room with ketchup that I spent hours in my little brothers room during the day. I was sleeping in his bed, my logic being that if I have a shower now when I go for dinner I could get “contaminated” and then I’d have to shower again. So instead I opted for sleeping in order to make the day go quicker.
I don’t want to be better and that’s the problem. I don’t feel any motivation or need to not feel like this anymore. The worst part is that I know that I could probably force myself to fight back against my OCD, it’s just that I don’t want to. There doesn’t seem to be a point.