When I was in my early teens I was all Tippexed nails and Impulse body spray and blue mascara and the Rachel cut. I loved Art and I hated Geography and I huddled close to friends for warmth behind the library building during cross country that I never ran. I was in love with a boy who wasn’t in love with me and the best day of my life was the one when he wrote his phone number in the margin of my maths workbook.
I was naive and innocent and bright and normal until something took over. I was on Prozac before I turned sixteen. At the time I genuinely didn’t understand what was happening to me. I was trapped in a heavy misery in a heavy body that wouldn’t move thinking thoughts that I couldn’t articulate and barely seeing through the darkness. I had no idea what was wrong. I was fifteen and I had never kissed a boy and I couldn’t get out of bed or find a better way than self harming to release the pain I felt from nowhere.
And that’s where memories that are hazy become blank and suddenly I’m a year older and the Rachel cut is grown out and dyed black to match my nails and I’m wearing flared sleeves and baggy jeans and skater trainers to college where I make friends and laugh and kiss a boy.
I had a little moan about this yesterday and when writing that post and browsing YouTube I found this video. Please watch it, it really is brilliant. Brave, inspiring and something I probably couldn’t do now, let alone all of those years ago.
Thanks for letting me share your vlog Emma :)