Yeah, I wish I’d been a teen idle
Wish I’d been a prom queen fighting for the title
Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible
Feeling super suicidal
– Teen Idle (Marina And The Diamonds)
Songs like this one make me think about my teenage years (though it’s actually not my genre because I don’t listen to pop music and such stuff).
If I’m being honest, I didn’t really have something you could call a youth.
I had a childhood, yes, but the way my life was ripped out of my arms afterwards can’t be called teenage years. My eating disorder came into my life when I was ten and I had chronic depression, insomnia and social anxiety by the time I was twelve. Shortly after my thirteenth birthday, I tried to kill myself- twice. My parents got divorced afterwards- and I was even happy about it. The same year, I was admitted to a psychiatry and it was not the last time. Today, I can count five times there and two in a psychosomatic hospital- not to forget the time I spent in the emergency room and the four months in some facility for incurable cases (which is what it was though they would have never called it such a name there) like I seemed to be back then.
Yes, today I am recovering, slowly, but such things take time and I already have progressed so much (no ED or suicidal thoughts or behaviors in 10 months and no self harm in about 16 months or something), but now I’m pregnant and will have a baby before Christmas. Of course I’m totally looking forward to it, my baby is the most important person in my life and I think it’s the best thing that could have ever happened to me, but nobody can doubt it’s too early. I haven’t even finished high school yet. Thanks to the hospitals, I won’t have before 2018.
My youth? About five parties when we had the evening off in the hospital or I was still friends with some junkies who called getting high till they couldn’t spell their names anymore a party.
I’ve accepted the way it is now and in some weird way, it’s never been better, but of course there is also a bitter pill to swallow. The bitter pill called a wasted youth.
The wasted years, the wasted youth
The pretty lies, the ugly truth
Though they’re shallow, unknowing, uneducated and stupid, I’m sort of jealous of the normal teens I see every day. The useless lives they lead give them one thing I’ve never had and will never have: they’re simple, normal, easy and happy.
They go to school from Monday to Friday thinking about their families, friends and exams, spend Friday night in bed with their boyfriends or girlfriends, go shopping or hang around with friends during Saturday, get drunk in the evening with alcoholic beverages they actually aren’t allowed to buy and spend half the Sunday being hungover and the other half studying a little for the upcoming new week.
So simple, so easy, so happy. They make mistakes, usually don’t learn from them either, party and study. That’s it. And this simple kind of happiness those teenage years bring has never been and will never be a part of my life.
What will I tell my unborn son about it one day?
‘Sorry, I was in a nuthouse back then when I should have been an adolescent and then you came’?
I wish Jamie (that’s the name I’ll give my baby) would have taken five more years and I would have had time to do all those average teen things. Away from the disorders right into motherhood- that’s too much in such a short period of time.
I know it’s nobody’s fault and believe me, I certainly do not want compassion or pity from anyone because that makes me feel like a stupid helpless toddler, but I have these regrets deep down anyway. (And the fears of failure and relapses are even worse, but that’s not the topic right now.)
I wish I could change something. But I can’t. The time I could have had is gone and I’ll never get it back, that’s just how it is.