Until the age of 16, I loved school. I did appreciate summer holidays, but after a couple of weeks I couldn't wait until school started again. I had some really good friends back then and in those times, the Internet didn't exist yet. We still had to rely on the good, old postman to keep in touch and we saw each other only once or twice during those eight long weeks that separated us from seeing each other on an almost daily basis. I learned easily, and I was always hungry for knowledge. I was a good student. School was my habitat. Until the year 1999...
As every year, I went to school that first day with a lot of enthusiasm. I knew that I'd end up in a newly composed class because I'd had to choose a new study package. Unfortunately, the most unexpected thing happened. I ended up in a class full of bullies. The most arrogant, conceited girls had been put together in one group. They formed about two thirds of my class. The rest were people like me: shy, hard-working students who didn't want to get into trouble and therefore kept a low profile. Those bullies all had a reason to be conceited though: mommy and daddy were doctors, lawyers, dentists... highly educated people, all of them haughty. Don't get me wrong, I'm not ashamed of my mother and father, not at all, but it was reason enough for them to look down on me. I didn't feel at ease in that group, not at all. They knew how to make me feel uncomfortable. So it didn't take them long to throw me off balance. And once this process had started, it only went down.
I tried to hang on, but this situation had a serious impact on my exam results and not in the least on my well-being. I did pass the exams at the end of the year, with lower grades though, and for once, the summer holidays that followed were more than welcome. However, when school started again in September 2000, I couldn't handle it anymore and it was barely October when I broke down completely. As I was very depressed and I harmed myself on a regular basis, the decision was made that I would be admitted to a psychiatric hospital for a couple of weeks. After that, it was thought, things would turn back to normal.
Alas... nothing went ever back to normal. Things got completely out of hand. I never went back to school since that day at the end of October 2000. I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital on November 3rd, 2000. As that didn't seem to be a success, they sent me to a specialized clinic for young persons with psychiatric problems. And after that to a closed ward. And that was only the beginning. You see, the last year at high school is supposed to be the most beautiful year of those first eighteen years of your life. You go to a monastery with your class for a couple of days, you go to Italy with last-year students, you celebrate the end of high school with all the last-year students, and more of those activities exclusively for last-year students. I missed everything because of this stupid illness, an illness that isn't even visible. I did the exams at the end of the year, fair enough. I passed the exams, fair enough. But at what cost? I got low grades, very low grades, whilst I was always used to high and very high grades in the years before. It hurt, it still hurts, you know.
Because of all that happened during those last two years in high school, it feels as if I haven't finished school. People won't understand it, because they will say, "you graduated cum laude from University, right?!" Right. True. However, I can barely remember how I managed it, finishing those exams at the end of high school. During the exams, I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, I had to use a lot of medication, from time to time I was limited in my freedom (read: they locked me up in the isolation cell). The biggest issue is that my fellow students from high school had no clue of what was going on. I missed them, I really missed their support. When I was in the first clinic, some of them visited me, but eventually, they also stayed away and I was left alone. No one can understand what it is to go through this when you're not even eighteen years old.
The beginning of the school year makes me very sad, as does the end of the school year. People don't understand why this is such an issue for me. They think I make things unnecessarily complicated. But it's just this feeling, a feeling of having unfinished business. I have this ridiculous thought of redoing the last year of high school. Somehow, I think this would give me peace. Of course it's absurd and not realistic, but I do think a lot about this possibility. Perhaps I'd better redone the last year. But the problem back then was that I was too proud to redo the year. I didn't want to be seen as "that psychiatric patient who couldn't finish her last year because she was admitted to a psychiatric hospital". At University, there were very few fellow students who knew the truth about me, and not without reason. I didn't want to be seen as "psychiatric patient", that just doesn't feel right.
So what to do? I think I've found the solution, but I have to admit that this one is only a partial solution. I try to study one hour every day, a different subject every day. That gives me the feeling that I'm still at school. I have a fixed schedule: Portuguese on Monday, Spanish on Tuesday, Latin on Wednesday, French on Thursday, English on Friday, astronomy and mathematics on Saturday and German on Sunday. So, I think that the bullies can now call me "blokbeest" (a really nasty word to insult someone who studies a lot and gets high grades) with reason :)
