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Stories of Hope

Why I Want to Make My Life Better

bulletAuthor:    Lynn Thompson
bulletAge:        14

 

It all started when I was about eight .My parents had just split up and then my granda...my best friend died of cancer. I wanted to be with him but I never thought about suicide at this stage. My mum and I started arguing a lot and every time we had a fight I would go into my room and tie a ribbon as tight as I could around my neck until I passed out. Things got a little better after that and my mum and I weren't arguing anywhere near as much. At this stage I was seeing my dad about three times a week.
        Then I started secondary school. The school which I went to in 1st year was a boarding school and I thought it would be great. I never realized what I was letting myself in for. I made a lot of friends, in fact I knew the whole school. It was about Christmas time and my friend Rebekah had told our dorm that her dad was gay. She knew she could trust us........well some of us. Another girl in the same room as us (who had went to primary school with Rebekah) Charlotte started telling everyone what Rebekah had told us. Rebekah was so upset because she knew that everyone was laughing at her behind her back and making nasty comments, she hung herself.
          Charlotte acted all upset but one day she just came up to me and said," Lynn, why are so ugly. You should be in the dorm for retards" I told her to wind her neck in and that it was all her fault that Rebekah was dead. The next day I got called into the school office and was accused of bullying MY WHOLE DORM (which was 8 people by the way). When actually it was the other way round. Anyway Charlotte and her friends kept calling me names and said them loud enough so that I would hear and they would effect my opinion of myself. And they succeeded. After about a month there was NOT 1 PERSON IN THE SCHOOL TALKING TO ME. All because I had tried to defend my dead friend. Then one night I had went to bed and anyway in the middle of the night I woke up because I smelt smoke. The wee bitches had set my bed on fire and when I looked around, all I could see were there pleased faces. That picture will always be with me. I was really homesick and having no friends didn't help. I decided!
 I would carve my mums initials into my arm. As I tore the sharp compass through my skin I felt a nice sensation and after I did it I was proud of the "TATTOO I had on my arm. I was careful not to let anyone see it. I didn't want them thinking I was doing for their attention. I decided that because I felt so good after I had done it I could do it from now on to make myself happier. And I did. Every argument, every hurt, every pain it made better. But as a person it wasn't helping me at all but making me worse. I moved school and the school that I moved to had a hit list and because I was new, I was on it. I decided that instead of going through the pain of getting jumped on and beaten by about twenty people, it would be better to die. When I got home from my first day at the new school, I went upstairs locked my bedroom and brought out a packed of co-dydramol and swallowed twenty of them. I lay down and went for a long sleep.
      When I woke up there were loads of people standing around me and I suddenly thought "OH SHIT". It hadn't worked and I would have to try again when I got released because there was no way I was going back to school EVER!!!! But as soon as I was released from the casualty I was admitted to another hospital. A psychiatric hospital. It's not too bad but I've lost three stone from I came in here because the food is way past it's sell by date by the taste of things. I'm getting counseling every day to help me find a better way of dealing with my problems instead of cutting myself. I still would cut the odd time. I used to cut up to about 30 times a day now it's down to about 8 times. I'm not getting help for me. I'm doing it so that my granda can one day say when he's looking down from heaven that he's proud of me. Thanx