Taking Things Out On Myself

When I was around the age of 13 years old, as I mentioned, I was having some issues with a cousin. It wasn’t just that though. I was having personal problems at school and with everything coming down on top of me I couldn’t take it any longer, so I began self-harming. Though everyone else would call me an attention seeker, they didn’t know what was going on inside my head, nor on the outside. I used to scratch myself with my fingernails, slice my arms with a pair of scissors or a kitchen knife. I also used to hit myself with various objects, or bang my head against a wall. It was a way of releasing the built up tension I was feeling inside. No one understood me. I was having a hard time with everything. The bullying, abuse and sheltered life were taking its toll. I loved school and had an amazing group of friends. We all used to hang out in the History classroom at lunchtimes and play Top Trumps or cards. I don’t mind naming names here because they deserve to know how truly great they all were and how grateful I was for their friendship; Mark Bevan, Ben Mahon, Andy Dalgleish, Mark Pelling, Jo Followes (now Shea), Carole Martin and Nik Jessup. The list is endless really, but it’s you few that stand out above all else. You guys meant more to me than you could ever begin to realise.


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