You can’t tell me it isn’t ironic that I was hospitalized for my mental health while doing a project surrounding the topic at school. There was not a day I was at school from start to finish, only going twice for the morning periods. This project is beginning to feel like some sort of weird torture from the universe. I always was reprimanded by my mother for “rationalizing” my mental illnesses because I liked understanding them. By understanding that my depression and anxiety were real and something that others experienced as well was grounding. However, I’m starting to see where my mom was coming from. In my research paper, I chose the topic of self harm. This is rich. I put myself in a position where I am being (now) forced to write an essay defending why self harm is an issue that needs attention. My original sentiment behind choosing a personally triggering topic was that I personally knew about it and personally cared about it. Instead of materializing into an amazing paper, it just pissed me off. I feel like I have to justify why kids hurting themselves should be stopped and why kids are scared to get in trouble. I feel like screaming while looking for facts and quotes to back me up because all I want to talk about is the real experience. However, that’s the exact reason we have to write these things. No one believes the real experience. We are told we are being dramatic, crazy, too sensitive. For me, it is enough to know that kids aren’t speaking up and they continue to do it in silence to make me want the system to change. I feel like I’m being forced to explain why I feel what I feel and do what I do instead of just feeling it. And I’m being graded on it. How great.
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AuthorFollow my path as I attempt to stick the landing on the most difficult academic year of my life so far. Archives
June 2019
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