How crazy is it that i’m once again back here.
I will try and catch everyone up as fast as possible. I’m finally 18, in the university of Manchester, and having a good time.
Well, of course, if I was having such a good time I wouldn’t really be on here would I? It seems surreal reading over my last few posts and to realise how far I’ve actually come. I’ve overcome a lot of obstacles but there are still many in my way.
I’m in halls of residence at uni and i’ve made really good friends. Like super good – I don’t really know how i’ve managed to be so lucky. They’re the kinds of people who I used to look at from a far (who look proper popular) and you’d think to yourself ‘I could actually be really good friends with them – we’re so alike – but they’re just too cool for you’ even though that sounds like something I would’ve said in like year 8, it’s still true. And yet, now I am the one in the cool group, and I couldn’t be happier or more grateful for my friends.
I would have loved this post to be about telling all the hilarious stores in my first term at uni, and trust me, there are quite a lot, but i’ve noticed i never seem to write about the good stuff, so you’re all stuck with my overdramatic self. When was the last time i self harmed? When I think objectively I would have said years ago, when I still had my collection of razors mixed with some matches. However, that would be fooling myself. I was ill a few weeks ago and i remember having a fever, and when I was getting better i had that same feeling I used to have every day or wow, you’re looking skinny today. And it led to me basically not eating for three days – but you know what – I passed it off, I didn’t think about it again because I did start eating again and it didn’t count because I was ill. But that was definitely a lie. I wanted to starve myself again.
And then today. I don’t know what it is about being on my own. There’s only two ways it can go. I’m very comfortable by myself and have a relaxed time, or I get guilty i’m having such a good time on my own and wonder why I am not trying harder to accomplish something in my life? Today was definitely the latter. I was quite close to whacking one of my shaving razors to find a blade and cut myself again. But this time it was different. I don’t know what it was about today which made me realise that when i used to self harm it was definitely both because of self-hate and to seek attention – I know it was, I can see that now. But self harming for attention is just as bad – it’s a different sort of illness – one that seeks justification and sympathy or validation from others around you. And it’s a sickness.
This time however, i wanted to do it just because of self hate. It was quite strong actually. I sit in front of the mirror and honestly don’t see anything i like about myself. I can take selfies and as much as I protest to taking pictures in real life I think I know my angles – I am able to appreciate nice photos of me – because they do exist! I have lots of pictures where i think I look really nice in and I’ll put them on instagram or something. But when I look at myself fully, with ordinary lighting in an ordinary pose I can see myself as I truly am and I don’t like it one bit. And i wanted to hurt myself because of it.
And I was close. But the thing that stopped me this time was the thing that almost spurred me on to do it years ago – my friends reaction. Before, I didn’t do it for my friends attention, but I did imagine what it would be like if they found out how fucked up and broken I was – I used to imagine the attention and imagined it would bring me favouritism in some weird twisted way. This time, I imagined tommy finding out that I was self harming or starving myself and for a moment I lavished in the idea of this secret somehow bringing us closer, that we would somehow be even better friends and then i realised how stupid that was. That that was never going to happen, the only thing that would happen is it would change our friendship – ruin it even. It would probably become super awkward and we would never mention it again. And so I started crying in the mirror, half happy that this thought stopped me from self harming and half angry that it stopped me.
I don’t know what it is about me. I should be able to vent my feelings to my friends i.e. my self loathing and anxiety but I am unable to because of the attention. I think it is because I feel like i have a certain personality that I don’t want them to think I am broken, because i don’t want my friends acting different around me than they do each other. I don’t want to be different and i don’t want to be seen as fragile so I have to pretend. Maybe, if they knew i was so fucked up, they wouldn’t confide in me with their problems – like when Tommy tells me about his anxiety or Bea about her panic attacks – why don’t I tell them about mine? I think it is because I always compare myself to others. If i tell Tommy I also have anxiety and basically everything or Bea that I’ve also suffered from panic attacks i feel like I’m trying to steal their attention. Because in my mind everything is about attention. But that’s not why they’re telling me – they’re telling me to confide their issues to get advice or to just get it off their chest – but me? If I told them, i would feel like I’m what? Copying them? How stupid. I know they would appreciate my honesty, me actually telling them how i really feel, but i can’t seem to do it. I don’t even want to dye my hair red again because i think Frey will think I’m copying her and she’ll hate me for it.
I hate myself for thinking uni would change me. I’m still the same scared, lonely, antisocial girl I always was. Just in a different place. And in this place i don’t have my dogs to cuddle when i need it. And I can’t confide in my friends back home because I want them to continue believing I’m living in my fantasy – that I’m having the greatest days of my life. And not to make them jealous – but so that they don’t worry about me. Because god forbid anyone actually realises how depressed i am most of the time. God forbid they find out that privileged Helena has somehow still found a way to be miserable and desperate when she has everything going for her.
Wow, when I started this post I really wasn’t expecting to go in this deep. Didn’t think it would be this depressing, sorry.