Dear Fifteen Year Old Me

It would be cool if we owned a TARDIS.  Or at least had some kind of method of time travel.  Although, one persons mistake can often be another's success and we'd always be travelling backwards rather than forwards.  Anyway, I digress.  What I meant to blog about was what I would say to my fifteen year old self.

Dear Marie,

Or do you prefer to be called Mariella at the moment?  You did go through that phase.  Mariella who wore a lot of black and brightly coloured eyeliner.  Mariella who was still trying to look emo after four years of secondary school.  I implore you, please don't.  No one ever should.

Let your dad take your picture.  He's interested in photography and he just wants some photos of his oldest girl smiling.  You might hate those photos at the moment, but trust me in four years time you'll wish that there had been more taken because you're much skinnier then and you'll be very annoyed about it because it turns out that Daddy was right all along after all.

Another person who's right an extremely high percentage of the time is Mum.  Yes.  Mum.  For starters she was right about the foundation.  It IS supposed to blend in with your natural face colour.  Those other girls just choose an orange shade because they long to come from Loompaland.  They look ridiculous, don't model yourself on them.

She's also right about your friends.  Which ones to stick with, and which ones to ditch.  Don't bother trying to fix something that was never in place from the beginning.  Just walk away, sweetheart.  It'll save you so much grief.

Don't be afraid to sing modern music.  You can actually do it.  Wanna know something else?  Anyone can do anything.  It just takes the right attitude.

Being smart is a good thing.  Paying attention in class is even better.  Teach yourself outside of school, talk to your teachers and ask them questions.  If someone's mean to you about it's just because they're envious.

Stop trying to talk more chavvy.  It's not cool.  It sounds horrendous.

Learn what the swear words mean before you use them....

YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE ON TEEN MOM SO STOP THINKING THAT IT IS A GOOD IDEA!!

In the P.E changing rooms, don't stand shy cramped in the corner.  Those girls can bloody well move.

But on to a more serious note.  Things are beginning to change.  All children have imaginary friends who eventually up and leave.  You didn't have imaginary friends.  You had imaginary enemies.  And they're about to appear in more than your dreams.  They're going to be so lifelike.  It's terrifying.  You'll get confused about fact and fiction.  It will even drive apart relationships.  But keep going.  These people from the other side do not control you.  Do not listen to them.  And remember that when you are scared of them, you can call of Anne who will protect you.

Mood swings are starting too.  They're not just hormones.  Write them down and keep a track.  Have you noticed a pattern?  (If you do, please let me know because as of yet I am still to find one!!)  Let people know about them as well, it's fine.  They're actually quite understanding about it.

I suppose that I could reflect more on what else you could change to stop these side effects from coming, but that would be living in the past and I don't really want to do that any more.  I want to move on and forwards.  And you're coming with me.  Sure, you could do loads of stuff that would maybe change the outcome of how I am now.  But then I wouldn't be me.  I'd be someone else.  And I don't know who that someone is, so why should I wish for it?  Look forwards but comfort the past.

I'm not there yet, doll, but there will be a time when we beat this.  When we don't have to worry about medication and appointments and tests and all the like.  We'll just get out of bed in the morning and be happy.

Oh, and one more thing.  In four years time you're going to be a professional actress.  Keep your chin up, girl.

Marie  xx

So come with me where dreams are born

I haven't sat down and written about my feelings in quite some time.  I suppose it's due to the fact that once a week I'm managing to talk about them for an hour with my psychiatrist and I'm simply too exhausted to linger on them any further.

But I need to do more to get better.  There was a time when I could do lots of things that I took for granted, if I work hard enough I can do them again.  Simple little things.  I'm not talking about saving the world or solving equations.  I'm talking about getting out of bed without being asked to.  Making myself look presentable and smile at myself in the mirror.  Even to just concentrate on the book that I'm reading.  I can do these things.  And I will.

My struggle with clinical depression started when I was about fifteen.  I won't go in to all of that now because I have no desire to think of it.  It's difficult at that age though to diagnose anything because you have a load of hormones flying around and it's so much easier to blame everything on the changes to your body as you grow up rather than admitting that your body has a chemical imbalance.  That's all depression is, I've learnt, it's not a sign of weakness or a cry for attention; it's just where your body stops producing enough dopamine and serotonin for you to be able to function properly.  Sometimes it's from genetics.  Other times it's from your environment and other times people just have no idea.  

The medication is a major help to you.  Personally, I found that it brought a sense of structure back to my life.  I stopped being so forgetful for example.  There's a stigma that medication for mental illness is the worst thing ever and it takes away who you are as a person.  If that's the case for you then you're probably on the wrong medication/wrong dose.  

Until recently, I've been ashamed of saying that I have some little beings in my head causing havoc.  We do live in a society that either loves or loathes mental illness.  It's as if half the world are running away in fear from what they see to be axe-wielding psychopaths and the other half are diagnosing themselves on Google because it's the hip thing to do.  I've come across my fair share of the latter, but have been terrified of coming across the former.  People who would judge.  People who'd say things like, 'Pick yourself up and move on.'  Now, however, I don't care.  I don't want to live a life that is determined by what other people think of me.  You could be reading this right now thinking that I am a freak or whatever, and I'm fine with that so long as you say it to my face.

Over the next couple of days I'm going to think of some goals for myself.  Little things.  Sure I want to go and build wells in Africa, but at the moment I need to be selfish.  I'm learning that sometimes that's ok.

For too long I've been scared.  It's going to be hard but I'm going to beat this illness.  I'm going to push myself to get better and raise up those chemical levels; and when I do I'm going to come off those tablets and not think about that little black dog anymore.  Sure, he might come along again in a few years as they often do, but I'll be ready.