So I’ve survived another year. Today I was celebrating my 16th birthday. Correction, my family were celebrating it. For me, and many others with mental illness a birthday is not something to be celebrated, instead it is a time used to reflect on the past year and worry about the future ones.
Two years ago, Debbie told me that I wouldn’t make it to my 15th birthday, let alone my 16th so I am proud of myself for making it this far but even so, there is a long way to go.
I first met Debbie when I was just 10. I confided in her about the abuse I suffered at the hand of my teacher and she supported me through it. She pretended to be my friend. You see, Debbie is a two faced b*tch. She befriended me but ruined my life just so that I had no one else to talk to. She got my bottled up emotions and used them against me, little by little; piece by piece.
For a while Debbie went away and I enjoyed my teenaged years, making new friends and living a life of independence at a new school but then she striked again. Only this time she came back stronger than ever before. She put me on a pedestal and made me realise that I would never be able to meet her expectations. Then she hung me out to dry and squeezed every slither of hope out of me.
From time to time Debbie still visits. With the help of some of her friends she manages to cause havoc in my life to the point that I never know what is around the corner. I am creating a support system for when Debbie decides to have another party because I know that she is as insidious as cancer, yet as lovely as a rose. She will trick me into loving her and will then abuse me. It is a constant fight, but I think that in a way it has only just begun.