It Gets Better. I Promise.

I feel really old.

I probably shouldn’t be saying that… I’m not really that old in terms of physical age but that’s not really what I mean.

I was answering a questionnaire for something about self injury and tumblr… I found myself slightly stumped as tumblr wasn’t really a big thing when I first started hurting myself and I haven’t really ventured near it in the years that it’s been running. Essentially, I’m too old for it to have had an effect on me.

I really don’t like that realisation!

Time has passed really quickly in the last few years, I’m finding myself out in the real, scary world of adults. I decided that university wasn’t for me and accepted that I will never have the ‘university experience’, on the plus side I’m finally operating at a level suited to my mental age.

I was an old child, I didn’t like or understand other children and as I grew up this turned from confusion, to awkwardness to fear. I struggled more and more with simple social interacting and was bullied mercilessly. I had some serious ‘daddy issues’ and a horrible, unfortunate stint of sexual bullying when I was about thirteen left me in a terrible state.

Depression hit me, and it hit me hard. I didn’t cope with anything at all- self harm saved my life but soon developed a life of its own and spiralled out of control. I created this blog, I put all of the energy I had left into getting better.

I made my way through mental health problem after mental health problem as well as dealing with the normal difficulties of growing up; relationships, life decisions, alcohol and hormones galore.

It feels like I’ve grown up a lot in a very short space of time; I’m sat here right now, in my partner’s flat, typing this blog post after a day making decisions about the next five or so years of my life and tying up the loose ends as my one year training course comes to an end…

I can see all of the different versions of me flickering before my eyes.

Aged 13/14/15: quiet, defeated Wren- scared, can’t sleep or eat or wash. Cuts and cuts because her scars are the only things that hold her together.

Aged 16/17: Hardened Wren- no-one will help her, no-one will make things better for her. Everyone has failed her and she has to look out for herself. Sometimes she lets down her guard and cries; she needs someone.

Aged 17/18: Independent Wren- she can loosen up a little, she still struggles and is ill but it’s been that way for so long that it’s normal. She feels emotion again and revels in it- even when it’s hard. She’s sassy and strong, she wants to be different and independent.

Aged 18: Careless Wren: who cares about her? She’s happy to put herself in dangerous situations because she doesn’t matter, she wants to live life to the full, go home with strangers and stay out until dawn just to prove that she’s still alive and whole. She wants bright lights, loud music and the assurance that she won’t fade away.

Who I am now? I don’t know, but what I do know is that I feel more relaxed and content than I have done ever in my life.

I take pleasure from the small things, I don’t care so much about how I look or being successful. I know that I’m going to make my mark on this world, slowly but surely and I’m content with that. I love to watch the sun and the rain. I love the darkness and the light. I love and am loved in return. I am an adult.

Occasionally my mental health problems rear their head, but I have enough experience and support to be able to knuckle down and get through the storm.

It gets better. I promise.

’til next time,

Wren x


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