A love letter to teenage me
I was the poster child for teenage angst. I looked at life through heavy black eye liner with My Chemical Romance blaring in the background. I wore those black plastic wristbands like body armor. But as well as all the normal, adolescent development identity searching I also had some mental illness poking around in there too. It was really hard to distinguish the difference between normal development like hormone related mood swings, and depression-anxiety fueled self loathing.
Sometimes it was glaringly obvious.
Wearing my school skirt like a belt so that the boys school across the road might notice me? Teenager.
Not being able to leave the house for fear of people laughing at me and having a panic attack at the front door? Anxiety and depression.
Phobia of fake hair? Jury is still out but probably neither and just a weird personality quirk.
I promise this story is going somewhere…
I developed a system to try and identify the difference between my teenage troubles and my mental illness meltdowns, and it happened in the form of what I affectionately nicknamed my “sad bench.”
This bench was a 30 minute walk to it, and a 30 minute walk back. If I had an issue and I wasn’t sure which category it fell into, I would take a wander to my sad bench and sit there for about 20–30 mins. After this hour and a half round trip, by the time I got home if I no longer felt like I needed to hold on to the issue, it was a developmental downer and I could carry on. If, however, the issue is still causing me torment, I needed to deal with it properly.
I didn’t realize it at the time but this “sad bench” did so much more than give me time to think. It got me outside in fresh air, it removed me from the situation that was causing me distress, it gave me exercise and time to myself to process and really think about what was happening. This is why this is a love letter to teenage me. You go girl. You helped your own damn self and a healthy way without even really realizing it.
We fast forward to today. My “sad bench” routine rarely works anymore. I find it difficult to get the words straight in my head.
I don’t know how to tell someone about what I’m feeling when I don’t really understand it myself.
I’m sure it’s a case of trial and error, finding something that works for me, but if anyone would like to respond with where they think I could start I’d be open to suggestions.
Thank you for reading my story. You’re time is appreciated and if you liked what you read or you think someone else will, please recommend this story and/or respond. Thank you again.
