Sixth form @ ST.B’s

Returning to STB was a clean break. By this time group therapy had finished and I was receiving a one-to-one counselling in the same establishment. We had addressed our concerns about fitting in with the intake under my original year group. My friend Meg who was in my form from yr7-11 was now in the year above me. I was forced out of my comfort zone but it wasn’t as daunting as having to go back to my old sixth form. I felt liberated from the fact I’d never have to take another step inside of that place! It didn’t take me ages to make friends, but I stuck with Meg for the first month or so for lunch and break times until I was comfortable enough to spend time with my new peers. There was also the consistency of the gym to help with a set routine for the day.    

N’ and I became good friends through our time in media and sociology class. I set her up with a boy from the gym. Over time my symptoms were still developing, some days they were more pronounced than others. My sociology&media teacher Mrs B-P picked up on my MH pretty quickly. It was around this time I was officially diagnosed with PTSD , formerly it was just ‘anxiety and depression’ but after seeing a brilliant psychiatric Dr and finally being able to talk a bit more about what I was experiencing, we got a more accurate diagnosis. It wasn’t until years later that I was diagnosed with BPD as well. Due to my diagnosis, I was granted a little extra time in exams, and for that I was extremely greatful as it allowed my nerves to settle.       

In year 13, the assistant Head Teacher called me into her office one day, because without realising, I was still on the school’s network from home when searching into quick suicide attempts. Hannah was now in my life but it was very early days. The assistant head didn’t say much but asked what meds I was on and whether or not I was having counselling. She’d check up on me every week or so.       

22nd March my hair was shaved off to raise money for Macmillan. The hair was donated to the little princesses trust and I sported a hair cut identical to my brother’s. My Head of Year told me I couldn’t wear a hat because it was against school policy (a breach of ‘uniform’) and before the shave took place she said she was worried if others opinions of me looking like a boy would bother me. Of course they didn’t, I was doing this for a great cause. Not one single girl in the school said anything bitchy towards me, and kindly a lot of pupils donated some money. Mrs B-P even donated £20.