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| Entrance to my high school |
I think the best way that I would sum up my general state whilst at school would be like living in a glass box that contained all sorts of horrible thoughts and painful anxieties. Occasionally this box would open, allowing me to enjoy the social aspects of growing up that school could offer, but even then these intangible objects from the box would follow me around. And then I'd get locked back inside the box again. It's made of glass, because I could see everything going on around me, but just couldn't enjoy it because of how restricted and encased I felt living with anxiety whilst at school.
I won't dwell too much on primary school as I started it 23 years ago. Wow. 1991. Wow. Anyway, what I think sums it up is the first memory that I remember, not just at school but practically in life. It was day one of primary school and I needed to ask the teacher a question, and needless to say I was shy and tentative. And I remember a fellow pupil (who turned out to be a right t**t in high school, but that's another issue entirely) saying "you're very quiet aren't you?" We were four years old. And yet I remember that like it was only yesterday. How much impact those sort of memories have on someone is psychology beyond my capability, but one could argue the signs were there even from that age.
I remember primary school lunchtimes for me were often alone, standing in a quiet corner of the playground not playing with anyone else. My best friend was - and still is - a great friend, but someone who was quite happy playing with his other friends, which is perfectly acceptable quite frankly at that age. I was the sort of pupil who'd rather have the attention of the teachers than my fellow pupils.
Where am I with bullying? I can't say I was bullied in primary school particularly badly, but I was always an easy target because of the way I was and because I acted 'differently' to most other kids. Some "friends" were fine with me when I was with them alone, but took the mick when other 'cooler' kids were in their company. My absurd sensitivity to such things may have had more of an affect on me than I realise.
Where all this sensitivity and loner-ness came from is another blog's worth of analysis, frankly. I have my ideas, but overall I still believe it's partly conditioning and partly genetic.
All of this came to a head in 1997 when I started repeating to God - as someone who isn't religious - that I didn't want to die. There followed a holiday around this time when we had to leave early because I was so anxious the whole time, crying constantly and feeling ill. Not directly school-related, no, but you can tell that even back in my later days of primary school I was having problems. In 1998 I saw a therapist. But given I nor my parents really knew what 'condition' I had back then the therapy didn't have any effect (and I saw the same therapist again in 2007 and, well, chocolate and fireguard springs to mind).
(I remember my dad saying, the day after we came back off that aforementioned holiday - "why is he still behaving like this, we're back home now." Sadly, none of us knew at this stage that this was the onset of a chronic condition that seventeen years later I still have to manage).
Then whilst all this was going on, it was time to go to high school...
I remember crying a lot when I first started at high school, which isn't that surprising I suppose but at the time just the change and the 'meeting new people' thing was far too overwhelming for me to deal with. I don't remember exactly what I went through back in year seven, the first year, but I am certain that I was very much a recluse, meeting about two new friends only and beyond that just going from one lesson to another, nervous and in fear. Examples include:
- Just sitting at the table with 'new' people in an English lesson trying my best to hold back tears.
- Doing PE (one of my favourite subjects... cough) in the gym and being bad at whatever it was we were doing compared to most, and crying as a result and having to make something up to pretend I wasn't pathetic enough to cry at something like that.
- Alienating anyone who could have potentially been my friend by either not talking to them or being angry with them for no reason. I have no idea why.
At this point I must mention this. In my last blog about University, I flagged up a series of lessons and tips that I'd learnt from my own experience. Combating primary school and how to begin high school with anxiety is very difficult for me to draw lessons from, a) because it was a long time ago and b) because I don't really know what sort of advice I would give, save something pointless like "try and be more confident." And moreover, the chances of anyone reading this under the age of 12 who is intelligent enough to know that they have an anxiety problem and deal with it, isn't remarkably high. Lessons will come later.
My main concern in the first couple of years of high school was trying to be good at schoolwork and getting praise from teachers. I didn't particularly like who I was back then, not that it really matters who you are when you're that young, within reason. The key moment then, around 1999, was when my best primary school friend that I mentioned previously, moved away from my town and therefore my school, and this hit me hard. The last thing someone with anxiety needs is for their most trusted ally to move away. The other two friends I'd made at high school I had, fortunately, made good friends with, but this move made any lessons without them difficult.
But if the first three years of high school were just about being nervous and under-confident and living mostly in isolation, it all got quite a lot worse at the start of GCSE, back in 2001. For a start, I started dreading certain lessons. I made some strange choices of GCSE subjects. Doing French and German was bad enough in itself, but this also meant I was put with the other half of our year for other lessons, for some unknown reason. I didn't know anyone then, so the few friends I had made were always in different lessons from this point. I hardly enjoyed any lessons and then there was the whole huge pressure of GCSE's. Small fry now of course, but back then this was everything. But there were two really key issues with GCSE years.
1) Choosing to do Music GCSE. For some reason I decided to do music GCSE. Why?! I couldn't really read music or play an instrument, but I was at an acceptable amateur level at creating tracks via computer software - something I still enjoy to this day. I was told initially I could do this as part of my course, but no... instead for reasons I won't go into, they decided to make me play the recorder. Possibly the only instrument that you can play and get the piss taken out of you about. And not only that, I was crap at playing it and I had no desire to improve. So this in itself was a confidence hit, but of course such is the nature of doing a music course, you were made to perform frequently, both in front of others and in exam conditions. Even if I had have been a good recorder player, this would have been a nightmare... but because I was also terrible, my confidence just hit an all time low and the panic I went through prior to any sort of performance was unbearable.
Lesson 1: Choose the correct subjects. I wish I'd chosen very differently and this could have made the difference between having a decent year or a terrible one. Choose those subjects you enjoy and that you want to do, not what people think you should do. This goes for GCSEs, A-Levels and even University courses.
2) The other main problem with GCSE years comes back to me being put with the other half of the year. Not only was I not in lessons with the few friends I'd made, but I was put with a bunch of bullies - quite literally. I mentioned bullying earlier. I will never stand up and say 'I was bullied,' but really I should, because the piss taking and name-calling I had to endure throughout these two years was unacceptable. I had several lessons with this bunch of low-lives - ironically, music wasn't one of them - and as a result each one was miserable, at best.
Lesson 2: Bullying isn't acceptable. Tell someone about it. I know that can lead to problems in itself, but not telling someone did nothing for me so if I had the time again, I would tell someone about it. Teacher, tutor, friend, parent, whoever. Bullying can lead to places that are unthinkable, so tell someone, even if you think it's trivial.
And yet all of this was unseen, as back then I managed to keep all of my anxiety bottled up. I suffered with chronic and severe panic attacks back then. I used to bottle everything up all day, and on average four or five evenings a week, just after I'd gone to bed, I would break into a panic attack - perhaps because no-one could see me. It was a day's anxiety being unleashed all in one go. This went on for all of GCSE and in the first year of sixth form.
Lesson 3: Don't bottle your anxieties up. This is the hardest thing to achieve, but in doing so, you are more likely to get help when you need it.
Exams for every subject were also a nightmare. I was terrible at revising and found it difficult to concentrate, and the 24 hours leading up to any exam I would be in a heightened panic. I swear my marks could have been higher if I wasn't in the grip of anxiety. But panic disorder, such is the nature of it, meant that I kept thinking 'an exam hall would be one of the worst places I could have a panic attack.' Thus, of course, preventing a panic attack became very difficult during exams, and more of my attention had to go into this rather than the exam itself. It's a wonder I passed everything in hindsight.
Lesson 4: Revise with someone who is doing the same subject, wherever possible. Revising alone is no fun anyway, and can also allow your mind to build up with and dwell on panicky thoughts.
I chose the wrong GCSE subjects and I also chose a wrong A-Level subject as well. Year 12 improved as it went along - the wrong subject I chose, Physics, I knew I would drop at the end of the year, so cared less about it come the end and the other subjects were okay (although I still wish I'd chose differently), so the panic receded a little bit throughout the year. Eating out was still a big problem; I remember a 17th birthday do towards the end of the year, 2004, that was a living hell and I barely ate anything. But whether this was school related is another question entirely.
But all the bullying had stopped at this point and there were more coursework-based modules - which I preferred, taking the pressure off exams a little.
Year 13 was certainly my best year at school. I had more friends, did better subjects and had more laughs overall. What spoilt year 13 wasn't school but driving lessons, which I have blogged about before. Without these, year 13 could have been good, but driving lessons meant my panic outside of school was worse than ever. Ironically, school became the one place I actually enjoyed being in year 13 and would go down as being the only year where things in school were good. Real shame about the driving thing.
Lesson 5: Don't learn to drive unless you feel ready!
There is probably a lot more I could mention and if this blog wasn't too long already I could certainly go into more detail about certain aspects of my anxious school life. In summary it was very difficult. About a year ago, I went back to my high school for my previous job where me and a colleague undertook an energy efficiency audit. I thought it would be pleasantly nostalgic - instead, it made me want to forget my schooldays even more. It brought back overwhelmingly bad memories overall.
I will end on a positive though. For all this blog focuses on the negatives of going to school with anxiety, as it should to make the point, I will say that my best friends today are still those people I've known since school. One of them since 2001, a couple since 1999 and one since day one of primary school, back in 1991. Nothing can ever take that away.
Best wishes
Al
