After

During

There's no definitive moment as to when this period of my life began. I guess it just slowly crept in around November 2015. My mind couldn't focus on anything in particular, but I do remember certain emotions. I also like to refer to this length of time as the Empty Void. I felt nothing positive because all the joy in my life had been sucked into a black hole.

Most of the year that followed was spent in a zombie like state as I went about my day without taking any real notice of what I was doing. On the days I wasn't in college I would sleep. In fact I often came home in between my lessons to sleep, or sometimes just lie in bed with my eyes shut waiting for sleep. When I came home from college each night I slept for a good 10 hours and said a silent prayer that my eyes wouldn't open.

It's not that I wanted to die exactly, I just enjoyed the feeling of not being awake, of not being alive and not having to care. I never had to plan my actions or put on a brave face and tell the world I was fine when I was asleep. I could be a different person and pretend I was healthy.

I could tell my friends knew I was different. I hadn't specifically told them something was wrong, but when they'd question my mum and I we hadn't outright lied. They knew I wasn't okay, but they didn't know why, they sill don't.

My teachers began giving me extensions on homework, one of them even told me to have the week off. So I did and I slept.

It amazes how the human body can sleep for 10 hours and wake up feeling more exhausted. Maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm a freak of nature. Maybe my body is trying to tell me that the only way to never feel tired is to go into an eternal sleep.

If my life were a movie this would be the sad montage where I sit staring out of a window watching the seasons change waiting for Edward Cullen to return, knowing he was gone for good. If I were Bella I would have given up long before she did. If Bella were me she would have killed herself in the first movie.

In December 2016 I took 3 weeks off college to sleep. My mum left me in a drugged state and told herself it was the good thing to do. It was what was best according to the countless doctors I'd seen. I needed to get used to the drugs and sleeping was the best way to let my body adjust.

A month later I was in hospital in agony. My leg felt like it was on fire and I couldn't walk. I spent 11 hours in A&E before they sent me for X-Ray's and told me everything was fine. Maybe it was stress or I'd slept in a funny position. There was nothing wrong with me.

Of course my mum knew this was bullshit and so she spent the next week ringing the hospital, desperate to get an appointment to see a consultant and get some answers. She didn't need to do this of course because we already knew what was wrong with me and had done for about a year. My dad's family have it, therefore I have it lurking somewhere in my fucked up genes. All we were waiting for was an appointment with the geneticist to get an official diagnosis. It was just the procedure that had to be followed. I had all the symptoms and had been told I had it, so why was I trying to convince myself I had made it up?

For a long time I thought my brain was attention seeking because I'd spent years saying one thing hurt, then ten minutes later something else was wrong. After a while I shut up because I felt like I was boring people and knew they all thought I was crazy. Maybe I was. Maybe I am.

I used to dream of Before and the carefree existence I had, but each of these memories would turn into nightmares. In one I was at gymnastics training trying to perfect my round-off back handspring. The impact of my hands hitting the floor caused my shoulder to dislocate and I was screaming until my throat was raw and tears burned my eyes. After what felt like hours of enduring the pain I rolled over and realised I was alone. I screamed louder, begging for someone to come and help me, but my voice didn't work and I could no longer move. I woke up drenched in sweat, heart pounding, threatening to burst through my chest and my mum was sat by my bed. Her face is forever imprinted in my retinas. She looked terrified, so I can only assume she heard me screaming and not all of the noise was in my head. Once I'd calmed and my breathing returned to normal she fetched me a glass of water and watched as I drank it in two gulps. She kissed my on the forehead, pulled the blankets over me like she did when I was little and left leaving the door slightly open. She's never mentioned that night since.

I took another week of college after that and slept. I don't remember the dreams, but I do remember waking up with a sense of unease and being slightly sweaty. I began sleeping in just my underwear with my window wide open, but it didn't help. In fact all it did was increase the number of bees in my room. I still sleep like this even After. It's somewhat comforting to know that at least one thing hasn't changed, but I'm still disturbed by the thought that I don't know what my brain is feeling.