Oh my goodness, today has been the last day of being fifteen years old. It is silly that I am this young and I still am sometimes worried about how old I’m getting. Is it possible to be wasting your years away as a young teenager? If so, then I should be extremely worried. I really feel as if I have wasted this year of my life. It may be one short teenage year, but it is still a year of my life wasted. I feel as though I could have been a lot more positive and should have had the confidence to ask for help when I needed it, so I wouldn’t end up in this complete mess. I may be positive about it now, but it shouldn’t have taken a team of paid professionals to make me realise what I needed to do. It was simply to ask for help.
However, I will admit that I am becoming a lot more positive about my life and am finally looking to the future. I feel as though being here has given me the ability to see the light, which the darkness of my mental health struggles has taken away. On that very dark night (in a literal and metaphorical way), all I could see was the end, and never the new beginnings, which I now have the capability of knowing about.
My wasted year has been spent consumed in the overwhelming feelings of anxiety and, later on, depression. They are like life forces that prevent you from seeing the positives. The year at school was probably the only thing I gained, but the things I learnt for three terms at school are nowhere near as important as the life skills and coping strategies I have learnt by being in hospital for three weeks. So, yes, my year of being fifteen has been wasted, but at least I now know what lies ahead of me. I know I have a long, hard battle to fight; luckily now I have the tools to fight with. At least I can look forward to a year of being sixteen, that won’t be wasted.
The next time you hear from me, I will be sixteen years old. I may try and write a post, but I am finally on overnight leave from the hospital and will be busy with my birthday plans.
Thanks for reading,