Okay, so I am going to confess something that I haven't told anybody in a very long time.

I am struggling.

And nobody seems to be noticing until I break down crying and/or hyperventilating. It seems that throughout my life I have become a master at what my councillor calls 'masking'. Long story short, I went 14 years with undiagnosed with dyspraxia (here is a link if you don't know what this is), in this time developing severe anxiety (or panic disorder according the the doctor) and moderate depression due to the neglect I recieved by the health service. So, in order to appear 'normal' I would do three things: Watch, Learn, Copy.

As it turns out, this was a short term blessing as it allowed me to make 'friends' (I use that term very loosely with some of them) and partake in most activities the other kids would do. I learnt to sit quietly and smile through everything and that worked as a copin mechanism for 14 years until my dyspraxia got worse and I was finally diagnosed. Up until this point I as just told I was lazy, clumsy and would grow out of not being able to even touch certain foods and textures. All by doctors who are supposed to help people. Might I add the only reason I got diagnosed was because after leg surgery, my physiotherapist noticed I struggled with a lot of the simple excersises.

Now, at the age of 16, I am at sixth form college and studying hard to get the grades I need to go to university in 2018.

But recently, I seem to be feeling worse than usual. I feel as though my dyspraxia has taken a backseat to my anxiety and I have been starting to get panic attacks around 3 times a week at varying intensity. The worst thing is, they happen at the most random times and I can't stop them. This has been affecting my attendence at college and even my personal life, putting immense strain on my family and one true friend. And I know it has: the worried glances my nan gives me, the way my friend will randomly grab my hand on the bus, dad actually asking if I'm okay instead of just joking around... I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt for this so simply work harder at my studies to try and make it up to them since I'm not all that good at showing outward affection.

Seriously, do you know how hard it is when you crave somebody to hold you but can't stand the though of anybody being so close? Like most of the time?

I hate it.

This, I guess, is where AFF and writing in general comes in, I suppose. It is literally my only coping mechanism anymore, my escape from reality.

I used to have lots of hobbies, but I had to give them up or lost my passion for them due to circumstances out of my control. I could no longer play golf since my surgery had my out for almost a year and by that point, my coach had gone abroad and my dad had a new job meaning we no longer had time to practice. I tried to learn piano but was essentially told to leave by the teacher, who got frustrated at my lack of ability to coordinate my hands fast enough and then discovered singing, which I loved but gave up in order to focus on my exams. I used to adore drawing but after fighting to to take it as an option in my final two years of highschool (my principle said I was too academic for it), winning the battle but then being forced to do it after school two nights a week instead of getting a proper lesson, and then the teacher losing half my work killed it for me.

Writing is all I have left.

It's my place to breathe. But now I am being told I need to put it on hold to study even more but also being told I need to continue since it's special to me. I feel I'm being pulled in two different directions here and it's causing me more stress. I realised my writing has gotten a little more intense and I suppose in a way that's good but I don't want it to be because of all the suffering I am pouring into it. It hurts sometimes.

I've been hurting a lot lately but only a handful of people in my life know, mainly because I've hidden it again. I'm scared of being a burden- everyone has their own problems, why would them want to deal with mine on top of that? I'm sure you'll get that I mean, right?

I know most of it is purely in my head and I am trying to get help. I phoned a therapist but have to wait 3 months for a session. It could be at any clinic in the area and if it's too far away or I can't make it, they have told me I will have to wait a further three months for treatment.

So, I continue to write. I'm writing every spare moment I get for fear that it's going to be taken away from me just like my other activities were torn away from me. I feel it's slowly becoming a compulsion. The more people tell me to stop, the more I want to write.

Yeah... so, I don't know how to finish this properly. It was the school councillor's idea for me to do this. So even if nobody reads it, I have gotten at least some of it off my chest. I could go on forever but, honestly, some things you feel cannot be put into words. No amount of poerty and pretty wording is going to quite get it right so it's best to leave it here.

But, if anybody is reading this and has any of the conditions I am dealing with (I won't use suffering, it makes me sound too much like a victim), find your passion. Find something you love and just let it be your release. You'll be surprised at what all your messed up, weird emotions can do when put to proper use.

I know this is a terribly written post but, please try to understand

Exodus_17 out xx