Letting Go

TW: this personal account addresses sensitive issues such as anxiety and panic attacks.

I was never one to forgive and forget, for the longest time forgive but remember was my motto. It was a simple and effective way to protect myself. Also, as it turns out it’s a way to keep ghosts of the past alive, to let them seep into your mind just as you’re about to fall asleep. So, my little motto wasn’t working anymore – it’s ok I told myself just let it go you’ll feel better, lighter. How hard can it be? Unsurprisingly very hard, nothing really seems to work.

I have always been an anxious person – right from primary school I was the child who clung to their parents desperate not to go in.  I didn’t recognise it as anxiety then. It was confusing to be the only one who seemed to be constantly paranoid by fear, to not really be joining in anything fun (or slightly rebellious!) because of that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Slowly, I earned myself the reputation of a slightly boring goody-two-shoes. Those words didn’t feel like me, but I’d not proved myself to be anything different, so I let it stick.

High school was challenging, the school I went to was changing from a middle school to a high school. There were a few (a lot) of teething problems. Classes and corridors were wild and unruly, there was no order and a constant stream of supply teachers. I was terrified whilst I was there, but I had created my own set of rules for myself and that kept me going.

The panic attacks set in, in Year 9. My school had been taken over by a multi-academy trust with its own set of rules and extreme punishments. Once again, I was crippled with fear. Everything I did had to be perfect – I couldn’t let myself get into trouble because that wasn’t the identity, I made for myself. That coupled with a collapsing friend group well it was a recipe for disaster.

After my first few panic attacks, I did what you’re supposed to do in this situation. I told my mum who got in contact with my head of year. I thought the anxiety would start to go away but, at this moment, I actually started a fight with my school which would last the rest of my time there and one which I would lose.

“It was hell and I fell to rock-bottom at a rapid speed.”

The pastoral staff constantly let me down. They would promise meetings, leave me on edge all day, and never speak to me. I would spend full lessons in the toilets having panic attack after panic attack and no-one ever came. I was told to “go have my little panic attack somewhere else” by a senior member of staff.

It was hell and I fell to rock-bottom at a rapid speed. I almost did something very stupid which at the time felt like my only way out. I am only here today because of my family and subject teachers who never left me, who picked me up at every moment. When I told a member of the safeguarding team what I had almost done I was calmly told that “I was too smart to do anything like that”. She gave me a list of books to read – that list was never read; it was crumpled in my pocket as I left her office with tears in my eyes.

I made it out, found counseling on my own, followed the advice of my kind subject teachers who got me through the final years of high school. Not everyone does and I wonder what impact COVID-19 will have on the already strained resources to help young people. We can’t forget about those people.

“Writing this my new beginning.”

I don’t know if I’ll ever truly be able to let go of the anger I feel towards those people at my school who had the power to stop my suffering, to help me but didn’t. I’ll never get answers and I am trying to make peace with that.  Writing this is my new beginning. I’m starting to move on and learn from my past.

Letting go takes time and patience but it is possible.

Orla McAndrew

Tweet to @OrlaMMcAndrew2

Featured image courtesy of Максим Степаненко on Unsplash. Image license found here. No changes were made to this image.