On the 31st of October 1994 I was born into a seemingly normal family which on the surface looked perfect. Although look deeper and you will find the fragments of the lives of people who have been shattered. At just a couple of months old my so called father decided he didn't want me. My mum suffered for the lack of strength he had so he turned to drugs alcohol and a life of violence, which is no place to bring up a child. On a daily basis my mum suffered abuse and had no where to go and no one to turn to, we were living in Holland and had no money to leave. At around a year old we finally escaped the hurt. We had family again and I grew up in a loving environment where my mum brought me up single handed.
When I was about 11 my mum started to change, she wasn't the stable person that I could rely on and she was finding it harder and harder to look after me. By 12 I cooked for us both, did housework, made sure my mum was ready for work and then walked to school on my own. After a few months of being almost independent I heard my mum say she didn't want to carry on in this life and if she didn't have me then there would be no reason to live. She suffered from depression, well that's what the doctor suspected but then she would change and be full of energy. I would come home from school and she would have painted the whole kitchen and living room, this became a regular occurrence. I was worried and I started to take my mum to the doctors to explain what was happening, he chose to ignore my 'childish' opinion and give her more medication. One day after school I caught my mum crying on the floor staring at the tablets, I wasn't sure what was happening. I called a friend of the family and we stayed at her house for about 12 days. I went to school as usual and when I came back my mum was gone. I couldn't understand why the doctor sent her away, but for the whole night she was away I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat and couldn't think of anything else. Until the age of 13 I never understood what Bipolar disorder was, all I knew was it was something my mum had and that the things she said weren't her fault and that no matter what she still loved me, even though I could see in her eyes she didn't want me around her. I never told anyone about it but my teachers were informed and I distanced myself from most people I knew. At the time a character out of Eastenders had bipolar disorder and everyone was laughing about it, why would I tell people now, when it's not actually funny and I had to live with it everyday. 'It' being a condition in which people go back and forth between periods of a very good or irritable mood and depression, and the mood swings between mania and depression can be very quick sometimes only a second. I never knew when I got home which mum I was going to get. The one who wanted to die or the one who thought she could fly.
My routine consisted of waking up at 7:00am and making my breakfast, going for a shower, getting dressed, waking my mum up at 7:30 although sometimes all she wanted to do was sleep so I would bring her breakfast to her in bed and made sure she had taken her tablets, but I knew to check her mouth to make sure she had swallowed them. I would lay out her clothes for after she had a shower and at 8:00am I helped wash the dishes before going to school. I had been doing this for almost two years, but still had no help from teachers or anyone to check that I was okay about having the responsibility of taking care of my mum. By the time I was 14 she seemed to be more stable in her life, and I could tell that she wasn't faking when she told me she loved me. I had grown used to the daily workload added to school work, the weekly doctors appointments to assess the improvements of the 'condition' like it was something alien and not happening to a person. I have never liked doctors, I think they are incompetent people who read symptoms of illnesses that you can find in a few seconds on the Internet. Two weeks before my 15th Birthday, just to prove I was right the doctor apologised for 'his mistake'. What was I hearing, that the past 4 years of constant work and upset, all the tears and times that I had to do things on my own could have been prevented. The words 'mis diignosed' circled in my head. A major illness had taken up my life when a simple tablet everyday would have been sufficient. One tablet to slow down my mums heart rate and endorphins wouldn't have given an elevated mood or increased energy, and the tiredness of all the hyperactivity.
In spite of all this I was an average child and grew up with manners and respect, but was subjected to weekly conflict between my mum and my nan. I had to go to court and fight so I didn't have to stay at my nans house as she insisted I was being neglected. School was where I could escape and I excelled expectations of below average grades in year 10 GCSE's. It didn't matter to me, I had friends. When I found out I was moving after everything that had happened, I was lost and considered suicide although from previous knowledge of lack off support I didn't tell anyone. Scunthorpe, the place Tinie Tempah has never been to was all I'd ever known, I knew I was safe there. I hated my mum for her decision to move to Coventry with her fiancee but at the same time was happy that she was well and after previous years thats what I wanted, but I didn't say a single word to her for a month. How could she pull me away from my life. I spent my days alone in my room, school had never taught me about moving house or moving schools, only that I was secure if I stayed in the same place. Although at some point we all have to move out and move on to our own lives.
When I started at Stringer, at the time it was the most important time in my life, my final year at GCSE level. Days past, then weeks and I was still quiet and conserved. I didn't know how to act around new people as I didn't know anyone at all, another thing school never prepared me for. After a few months I got to know people who I could relate to and be myself around. I was predicted average grades of C's but never expected to exceed these. When my results came back I got A's and was proud that I made my efforts and sacrifices of a larger social life paid off. A month later I was accepted into sixth form, my life seemed to be going places. All through my life, when something good happened something else would come along and drag me down to reality. A couple of months into sixth form, and two weeks before Christmas my uncle died of a brain tumour. He lived in Holland and we couldn't make it. As usual I didn't tell people how upset I was, and I kept thinking about my dad. He was somewhere in Holland and I wondered after all these years if he ever thought about me, even for a second.
That brings me today.
17 years old, loves to cook, can clean and be independent, ignores doctors and looks on the Internet instead. I know that school didn't prepare me for what I faced and it isn't just me who feels the same. It doesn't teach you how to cope with bereavement or show you how to see the best in what you have, how can you expect students to do all this if you haven't taught them the basic knowledge of life before they leave and go their separate ways into the world. I now know what Bipolar disorder is, how to balance work with other things, how to cope with challenges and work out how to solve them or work around them. If I had been taught the basics of this then I would have been more confident in my choices and be aware of what could be thrown in my path of life. But because of this I know I can achieve something great in difficult circumstances, I still haven't met my dad but thats a complication I can face at a later date, but most importantly, my mum has her health and loves me and I'm optimistic about the future.
This is the inspiration for my documentary. What other milestones am I ill prepared for such as further education and finding work and how does that not only affect me but the rest of the population, and whether anything can be done to improve this.
