Disclosure, this post contains content relating to Self Harm / Mental Health that some people may find distressing, and relates to a true story and incident that happened to me at school while in the Ellington and Hearson school
James is a fictional name for Data Protection.
The lead up to the incident at school.
I was 15, and after six years of hiding the first instance of self-harm (The Thing), my mental health was at its worst. Every day there was a conflict of the sort, and I was struggling in school. Both physically and mentally. Some people thought that my coming out as gay led me to go crazy and do what I did. This was incorrect. The bullying was very minimal compared to what I had dealt with previously. Some others thought I had issues at home. The truth was, at home with my foster parents. I was doing great. Moreover, I was protected from any negative impacts of my biological parents.
However, the school did not have to this bad. Is, is there mental health in schools? Of course. But the teachers are not helping us either. From my experiences, there was very little help offered.
But the truth was, I was waiting to derail from day one. Past events with family caused me flashbacks. I had anxiety from the beatings of my peers at school and depression from the isolation. I would put myself through confusion from the cocktail of medication prescribed to me and the regret from not expressing myself to the many professionals on standby to help me. By the time I got to this Incident, I felt empty because I was empty.
t being able to express myself to the many professionals on standby to help me. By the time I got to this incident, I felt empty. Because I was empty.
The Incident At School
It started towards the end of April 2012 and lasted a week before realizing it was not going to end. I was triggered by someone I had my first gay mutual romance with. James. See, we broke up a long time ago, but I kept getting mixed reactions from him. In a group, he would take the piss out of me. Alone he was sweet and flirty.
Furthermore, this had been driving me insane for ages. I was mostly getting over James, but I had just had enough of it at this point. When he insulted me in front of his group of friends, I just turned around and started punching the wall as hard as I could.
And I loved it! I enjoyed being able to feel something again! This was not good because now, I was able to translate my lack of emotions and emptiness. But all in a negative way…
What is it like to feel empty inside?
For me, I would walk around. I almost felt as if I was not even in my body, and I looked upon myself. When events in my life happened, I was not able to show my emotions. I did not even realize them. I spent most of my days on the computer for distractions and to live a life of virtual reality. But most of all, I found out I was very opposed to changing this. The thing was, I was comfortable like this. Whenever someone tried to “Take Down The Wall” (Maybe another future post), I would build it straight back up, and each time it got bigger and bigger.
How the story progressed.
Now I found a new way to self-harm—one safer than my previous methods. I had changed entirely. See, I was excluded from all schools due to my mental health for an excellent reason. In the upcoming week, it started with me punching walls. It then progressed to me punching others the next day. And then I got my left hand and a black marker and put a cross on the knuckle of my pinky finger. I managed to manipulate people to punch me as hard as possible on the marked knuckle throughout Wednesday. Thursday was where my teachers were concerned and raised all alarms. Thursday got so extreme. I would line my knuckle up with the leg of a chair right in the cross. And managed to convince at least five people to then jump onto the chair while my knuckles were aligned to it.
That evening I had an emergency meeting with social services and my foster careers (Carol and John). By this point, my whole left hand was swollen and purple… Everyone was concerned. I remember them asking what is going on, and I tried to be defensive once again. I remember mentioning my care files. “See. I have been requesting them for a while…” And deep down, even then, I just wanted to understand my life. Of course, it got rejected.
I returned to school the next day…. Nothing had changed. But then, I was pulled out of class on Friday midday to have an emergency meeting with Dr. Bertrand Nairac.
The Story Continues -> sectioned Under the mental health act Aged 15 a brief before and the process of being admitted
Thanks for reading this story. So now this section is out there… When starting this story, I did not want to dig this deep, but it turns out it was required to make the story more understandable. Also, I could write about some more regarding this in the future. I will have to see how much further back I can go in my head. However, I would love to hear what you lot think about it. Feel free to read through the stories in this section.
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