Back to Day One 

Day 1 of the journey from Mad Girl to Made Girl:

I suppose I should start with a bit of history about my situstion. Sorry to bore you but bare with me please.

So for years, I’ve never felt quite normal. At first I thought it was just the awkward teen years. You know what’s it like, the acne, not being a part of the popular group, trying to actually pass exams whilst also trying to show you don’t care that much because you don’t want to be labelled a nerd or a geek  (a label I would love now!). Yeah well, I went through the emo phase of things, black skinny jeans, band tops, black hair with a mahussive side fringe which started from the opposite side at the back of my head. Oh the shame. Contrary to belief, not all Emos self harmed or were sad and crying all the time, we actually did smile and know how to have a laugh. I mostly got into the emo side of life because I loved the music. The screamo, the rock, the alternative, the pop punk, even some of the heavy metal. The music had feeling, had soul in my eyes.

However this look really didn’t sit well with my positioning at school. I went to a posh private school full of snobs and kids with parents who were too wealthy for their own good half the time. My parents spent everything they had on mine and my brother’s education and to this day I regret their decision for me. I wasn’t happy in that school and I don’t look back on my time there with fond memories. I haven’t come away with friends for life nor have I come away with a particularly good education.

Anyway bit off tangent. Where was I? Oh yeah, I didn’t fit in with my emo ways. I had bad days and good days even at this stage. I dabbled in self harming but nothing extreme. Just liked the thought that although I couldn’t control the situstion at school I could control how much pain I could take. (Sounds sadistic and weird but it made sense in my head!) Things were okayish up until 6th form. I mean I had grief from some students in the year above me, found my bag in a bin one day, and the odd name here and there and even the comments of how I was ‘naturally ugly’. How very kind, just what every 16 year old girl wants to hear from the popular boys that everyone had a crush on. 

In sixth form things escalated.  Somehow I become secluded from the friendshil group I had made during the first five years and it was just me and my best friend of four years left to defend for ourselves. Things became intense pretty quick. It was me and her. All the time. At first it was great fun. We had our own inside jokes, we could have a laugh, we had stupid nicknames for each other, we were literally in each others pockets 24/7.

Towards the end of the first year of sixth form things started to change. It was such a sudden, drastic change. It happened during the summer and things never returned to normal despite our best efforts. Our friendship had become all-consuming. It wasn’t a normal friendship anymore. It was a fanatical relationship. Unfortunately feelings got mixed and it just became a doomed friendship. It wasn’t healthy for either one of us.

In that summer, my best friend changed. I don’t know what caused the change but she became unwell. She wasn’t herself and it was scary to witness the change so sudden. The amount of pressure I was under with trying to look out for her, being there at her beck and call and trying to balance A Levels and University applications, I was struggling. I was all on my own. My parents didn’t understand and just told me to not let her behaviour have such an impact and just concentrate on school. Everyone at school only cared because they wanted to know the gossip between us and what the situstion was. No one wanted to help. No one cared.

At this point I couldn’t eat. I was too worried about my best friend. I was getting calls at 2 in the morning which were hard to hear and heart breaking. I hated seeing my best friend feel this way but there was nothing I could say or do to make it stop. Make it better. I so wanted to, but we both wanted different things. It just wasn’t our friendship anymore.

School finally got involved when they saw how thin I had got. I was always complaining I was tired. I was struggling to focus. I went to the doctor for a normal appointment and unfortunately I was weighed. I remember her look she gave my mum. She threatened me with hospitalisation if I didn’t start eating and looking after myself. That scared me. I didn’t want to go to hospital. But at the same time I was secretly grateful for the stress and lack of appetite. I was finally skinny. Protruding collar bones and hips, size 6 clothing was baggy on me. I didn’t feel beautiful but I felt I had control. I had control of my weight and what my body looked like. I couldn’t change my face but my body I could. And we all know boys like skinny girls – no they don’t! Most boys I know don’t care what a girl’s body looks like, it’s more about their personality that first attracts them, I mean a bit of bum or boob might turn their head as well but being stick thin isn’t what a boy wants. They want a girl with confidence in herself. A healthy glow. A personality. A thin, skeleton frame isn’t what they want. 

So that happened. I never really dealt with that issue. Nor did I deal with the pressure and worry I faced with my best friend. Fast forward a year and a half and I’m settled in at uni and although I am no longer in contact with my best friend. She seemed to be doing better and maybe that was because I wasn’t around anymore.

I was now in a relationship. My first proper relationship. That in itself wasn’t a healthy time. I gained a bunch of weight, wasn’t really into the relationship especially at first but I was so desperate to be loved I stuck with it. I hated the sex, we argued all the time. We were just vile to each other. The words we said and the accusations thrown. It was horrible. We soon broke up,  thanks to him doing this over twitter simply because I didn’t inform him who I was out with and I didn’t reply most of the night (tbf I was at a pub quiz and you can get in trouble for having your phone out! And I’m a goody goody and don’t cheat! Haha) After that we were seeing each other on and off throughout my whole time at uni. There was something drawing me back each time to him. He would drop me a message and I’d go running. I didn’t enjoy his company nor was I even attracted to him but as they say you keep running back to fools.

Second and third year (year abroad) at uni I became less and less the person I was in first year. After reinventing myself for fresher year at uni after the trouble at school I thought I was on a winning path but it seemed not. In second year I didn’t live with people I knew and had a very troubled housemate. I felt very much alone except for the odd appearance of my ex. Uni wasn’t as fun as it had been. I was struggling. My third year abroad was even worse. I was in a secluded area, living in a mouldy flat, knew no one and couldn’t travel anywhere as there wasn’t even a train station. I tried to make the most of it but instead I turned to over eating to comfort my worries and I soon found myself binging and purging. (Glamorous, hey? Year in a France and I turn to bulimia 🙈) I became so distant and astray that my parents even forced me to leave France and go visit my auntie in Jersey. Safe to say I wasn’t in great shape.

Fast forward to final year. Started off okay. But I soon found my binge and purge ways. It was great I had my own ensuite and could do what I want and when without worrying anyone would catch me. I went home that christmas as thin as I was at 18 and I had a complete break down on Christmas eve. I almost broke my arm and had bruises all over my leg from where I just attacked myself.  But like most things, my parents ignored my cry for help and just carried on as normal. Worst christmas day ever.

Since then I’ve been up and down sporadically. Growing more and more anxious, feeling like I was constantly on edge. Other times I’d have no emotion. I’d felt so empty and just wanted to disappear. Other times I just cried. Cried to myself in the safety of my room. I still had my binges and purges but they became harder as I moved back home but I still found my ways. I cancelled any meet up with friends and I became a recluse.  Until I finally met my boyfriend, F. He changed me. He gave me a reason to live my life again. He brought me so much happiness and the first few months were great. However, as always seems to be the case, when things are going great it is often too good to last. And it was. He saw my ups and downs. He didn’t know how to handle them. We almost broke up but I finally confessed all about my past and how I’ve struggled with it and never dealt with the problems. He said he would help. He loved me. He still does and he is still here supporting me but it’s not without its strains on our relationship. But I’ll do another blog on that later.

Now fast forward for the last time and we’re here! Yes, we’re finally in the present. I hope you enjoyed the brief history that is of moi, Not Quite Made Girl.

So yeah, always been slightly abnormal and a bit different and not always been the most conventional of people but last week something just broke inside me. It had been building up heavily for a couple of weeks. But I’ll save that for my next blog. You’ve got the history and I’m sure that’s enough to bore you for today.

Have a good evening.

Not Quite Made Girl x

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