aliens are stupid • ben parish

NOT AN UPDATE - FEEDBACK PLEASE!!!

So, I wrote this essay for my English portfolio and I was wondering what you guys thought of it...

"You'll be fine."

If you know me well enough, you probably know it's near enough impossible to get me to stop talking, especially if there's a fictional character involved somewhere. Throughout primary school, I was what I would have considered as popular. I had plenty of friends, got invited to parties and was doing well in school. Although, there had always, and still is a little difference between my friends and I. They didn't have a care in the world but I would always have these 'what if?' thoughts, those worries that shouldn't even have crossed my mind at such a young age. I shouldn't worry about things that are out of my control, I know that now, but back in 2013, I didn't even know what 'not-worrying' was.

When the time came for me to transition into high school, I remember being utterly consumed by anxiety. My parents and I, at the time, just passed it off as 'first day nerves', but they turned into 'first week nerves' and then 'first month nerves' and finally 'first term nerves'. I just couldn't calm down, everything got to me. Even dropping one mark in my science test almost was enough to send me over the edge. I wondered what was wrong with me, I felt left behind because my friends had all taken this terrifying experience in their stride whereas I was still stuck, sitting on my own in most classes because I was too scared to even open my mouth to talk for the fear I might burst into tears right there and then. It was the worst anxiety I had ever experienced, my hands would shake like those last few leaves on a tree in the strong November winds, I would feel constantly nauseous, so much so that I couldn't eat and when I did, it would come straight back up again. Looking back on this now, that's when things had gone too far because I have always loved food and then, I couldn't even think about it.

I remember dreading school as soon as I woke up in the morning. When I did finally manage to get out of bed, I would get ready and eat the world's most miniscule breakfast and that was on the days I could actually face looking at food without my stomach feeling like I was on a sinking ship in the middle of a hurricane. Then I would leave the house, heart in mouth and tears already pricking the back of my eyes threatening to spill over at the slightest misfortune that might happen to me. Might. That word was a problem; I've never liked the uncertainty of it. When I reached the school, I would stand with my friends in the locker room, talking before class started. There was another problem, I didn't talk, I just stood listening which I liked because I never really had anything significant to add to the conversation. But what I know now is sometimes the worst place to be is inside your own head. Nobody ever asked if I was okay because hiding things is something I'm especially good at. Even at a young age, I would bottle things up and then explode at the tiniest thing.

At primary school, I had had these feelings before and had been given help, which at the time I hated. I thought the man was weird and his strange little analogies made no sense to me. But I went along with it, just so it would be over as soon as possible. Something that came up frequently in these meeting was something the man called: 'kicking the cat' which implies you've been bottling up all your problems and you suddenly explode, taking it out on everyone around you. Now I think about it, it wasn't stupid and was actually a great way to explain what I was doing. The second time my parents reached out to someone was in second year, when my mum, to my mortification, phoned the school and spoke to my guidance teacher. Now, I completely understand why. I had just come home from school and I couldn't find something I needed for the next day when everything from the past year came pouring out. I cried, screamed and shouted. The feelings I had hidden for so long had finally reached tipping point and I felt them rising in my throat along with all the insults I was about to throw at my mum for not being able to help me find it. I exploded over something so insignificant because of all of my earlier feelings and I scared everyone. When my mum told me she'd spoken to my guidance teacher, I made a vow to myself, I would not go. I would not speak to anyone because in my eyes, I didn't need help. I remember thinking I'd never be able to show my face again because all my teachers would think I was crazy. I remember the feeling that would cement itself in my stomach every single time I walked past the guidance base.

In the end, I did go to the meeting. Not for me, for my mum. This was the first meeting of three I had during my first few years at high school. I never really got used to the surprise when my mum told me she'd phoned the school. Every time I would feel betrayed and hurt but I know now that she was only trying to help me and really, I feel so terrible for pushing her away. Now, although I still get the occasional bout of anxiety, I know how to deal with it. I know ways to stop myself feeling the way I did because believe me, nobody should ever feel like that and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to the old me, but some days, I come pretty close.

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So what did you think????? I'd appreciate the feedback❤️

I'll update properly next weeeeeeeeek

- Jasmine x