For as long as I can remember, I have suffered from some kind of mental illness. Of course I didn’t recognize my symptoms when I was younger; I didn’t even really acknowledge them. I suppose I thought they were more or less normal, and that one way or another they would pass with time, as all things do. Unfortunately, this was merely the optimism of a youthful mind. Like I said, my symptoms were hardly detrimental, and I had no way to predict that they would progressively get worse. But that they did. My social anxiety manifested itself after a controversial encounter with my fourth grade science teacher, Mr. Bell. Mr. Bell had been my favorite teacher, and young as I was he could see that there was something beyond my juvenile exterior, glimmers of understanding and intelligence. We got along well, until one day when he mentioned the theory of evolution. Having been brought up in a Christian home, I was taught to scoff at Darwinism and could never even give it a chance. I felt it my duty to confront Mr. Bell about this and so after class, while many other students were surrounding his desk trying to get their test scores, I told him how I felt. I asked him if he truly believed the story that Darwin had, on his death bed, admitted he believed in God. He told me that he felt the Christians had made this up to try and coerce people into believing them once again, especially after they had been dealt such a devastating blow. Naturally, this was too much for me. I fled from the room in anger, and when I got home I panicked. I figured Mr. Bell must’ve hated me now and thought me ignorant, and every time I saw him after that day I would get extremely nervous. I noticed how my anxiety alienated the man and made him uncomfortable around me, and gradually I became apprehensive that I would get this way around all of my friends. My facial muscles would tighten up, something I would call my “nervous face”, whenever I was around Bell. Progressively I got the nervous face around my friends, and slowly but surely they became alienated towards me. Over the next few years I ate and ate, which I suppose was a sort of self-medication for my anxiety. By sixth grade I was overweight, had few friends, and had developed acne, probably a combined result of overeating, stress, and hormonal changes. Like my acne, I would soon realize that my anxiety disorders had a number of contributing factors, and that each one would have to be addressed separately. People hated me and made fun of me, calling me names like pizza-face (I suppose you might think that’s funny, too, but it was painful).
Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I told my parents that if I wasn’t allowed to transfer to another school, I would kill myself. So in seventh grade, I enrolled at Smithtown Christian School, expecting the “Christians” to be much more understanding and kind. Once again, I was dead wrong. I was hated even more here. I made a few loose friends, but mostly was made fun of for being fat and having acne. There was one thing that seemed to make it all worthwhile, though, and that was a girl named Nancy. Nancy was beautiful and voluptuous, and I thought for sure that if I tried hard enough I could entice her. In January of 2005 I got a friend Mark, who was actually her former boyfriend, to talk to her on an instant messaging service for me. From what he told me, she was disgusted at the revelation that I liked her. She said she wanted to throw up and all sorts of horrible things. I was defeated. I later discovered, however, that Mark had actually lied to me because he liked her as well. If only the boy knew what that lie would cost me. I remember crawling onto the couch and bawling. Through my tears, I prayed to God to help me be strong. However, even God’s strength was not enough to assuage my forlornness. But then I realized something. Of course, how could I not have recognized this? I became excited, knowing that Nancy would one day like me, if only I could lose weight. If I only I could look like the lead singer from My Chemical Romance, who she admired so, I would have her. I have and always will believe that anything is possible, and this was no exception. Even if I had to get plastic surgery or get onto MTV’s Made, like a friend suggested, I would make it happen. Thus began another gritty chapter in my life. I began to starve myself, eating incredibly small amounts of food per day. I quickly lost weight, going from 160 pounds to about 135 (at 5′7) in about four months. I forgot to mention, as Nancy treated me terribly along with all the other kids, and I couldn’t take it anymore, I transferred back to my original public school. The irony of being treated worse at a Christian school than in a secular environment is overwhelming, but it is a lesson learned and something I have come to expect. This is why I rarely go to Church nowadays, because I can’t stand the hypocrisy. It’s not so much the memories of my experiences with Christendom that tro
trouble me, as I have become somewhat desensitized towards them over the years, but the plain and obvious insincerity of most adherents of the Christian faith.
Speaking of my experiences with the Church, I remember going to a Church youth group at my cousin’s fledgling church. I was treated terribly there, too. After I retreated back to public school, and I told a girl from Smithtown that I had stayed in touch with that people treated me much better there, she told me it was because there were a lot more ugly people. That’s the kind of thing you’d hear from these uptight, wealthy Christian snobs. The doctrine of their religion is to treat everyone else with dignity and respect, yet they do the exact opposite. Don’t even get me started on Christianity, as I might start ranting. I fear I’ve already done that. How far I’ve come from fourth grade, when Christianity was the centerpiece of my life. Like I mentioned earlier, everything changes with time.
Back to the story of Nancy. Even
Even though I didn’t see her at school anymore, I still liked her. I saw her at church, though, as we were coincidentally both part of the same congregation. The thing was I also hated her. I hated her for all the hell that she had willingly put me through, just so she could get a cheap laugh. I remember one time when she and her friends started throwing potato chips at me during lunch and I pretended to think it was a mutual joke that I was a part of. A paraprofessional came over towards the end of the period and asked why there were potato chips all over the floor. I told her what happened, and Nancy and her friends had to clean it up. After all that, I still felt bad for the girls. For some reason I thought I had made some progress, that we were becoming better friends. These were all warped ideas, though, subconsciously designed to make me feel better. That was one of the last things that happened before I transferred out of that school for good.
For the next few years, I continued to like her. For some reason I could just not get over her. I always thought that I could get her, and would never give up. I threatened to commit suicide a few times, which as you can imagine didn’t go over well. It really all ended with her in the first half of ninth grade, when I threatened suicide for the last time. I spoke to her father on the phone, who essentially told me to never contact her again. I was scared, and got the message. That was all for “little Miss Nancy Jeanne.”
Besides, I had met another girl who had piqued my interest even more than Nancy. That story, however, is for another time. It played out quite similarly to the Nancy saga, but in some ways quite differently. However, I digress from the topic of this book. After a brief summary of my life and all of my adventures, this book will examine the secret life of the mentally ill adolescent. In a way, that’s what the summary is intended to do.
Most of all, though, this book is meant to serve as a reflection of the hardships that people, young and old, of every race and creed, have experienced as a result of “chemical imbalances.” It is my hope that both psychologist and psychiatrists and those who can relate to me will read this book, and it will inspire them to just keep going, and to never give up. If you take anything from reading this, let it be this: that anything is possible. I still suffer from my disorders, but I believe that one day I will overcome through will power alone, for anything is possible. Remember this simple phrase and take it to heart, because it will change your life.
