It's Not Your Fault

I'm 31 years of age. At the age of 5 (or so I'm told), I attempted to hang myself with my school tie. At 31 years of age, it breaks my heart to attempt to fathom how hopeless life must be for someone so young to take the decision to end it all. I only remember bits and pieces from those days. I know that I had difficulty forming friendships with other children. I know that I had a tendency to take people at their word; to assume people were always honest, and of course this made me vulnerable and it was easy to take advantage of me. I was naive. Other kids seemed to realise this very quickly and this was the start of it. Being the butt of jokes and the source of amusement for other kids. I remember it was hurtful but I also know I didn't always realise when it was happening. My parents loved me very much of course, but the pain I was suffering must have been so great that I didn't want to live anymore. Had I succeeded in my suicide attempt, it would not have been their fault. They raised me to be honest, and to see others as honest and encountering the worst in people was clearly a shock to me that I didn't understand.

After 5 years at my first Primary school I found myself transferring to a new one. As far as I'm aware this was due to my father changing jobs and our family moving to another part of Belfast. A new classroom with new kids. Surely I could make this work given all that I've learned? Perhaps not. At first I was quiet. Kept myself to myself. A few kids reached out in the beginning. "You wanna race, Neil?". "No thank you". It was new and different and I wasn't sure how to approach things. The safest course of action for the first while was to keep quiet. What could go wrong if you don't interact with people? It wasn't long before I relaxed enough to be myself. As it turns out, myself was not a popular individual. These kids all seemed bigger than the kids at my last school. It sounds ridiculous, I mean it's the same age group in the same city, but they did seem bigger than me!

They all knew each other so well, too. They had grown up together for 5 years and in that time they had shared interests. They watched certain cartoons and TV shows, played certain games and they had their own social structures that I wasn't familiar with. I would express my fondness for a certain TV show and be laughed at. I'd be no good at a particular game, and I'd be laughed at. I once wrote a letter to a girl I liked and she showed it to everyone in the class. They all had a great laugh at my expense. Boy did I feel like a piece of crap. It didn't help that our family lived in the grounds of a school that my father worked in. I didn't have many interactions with other kids outside of school, so I had little opportunity to develop my social skills. Maybe that was a good thing now that I think about it, because during this time in my life, the violence began. It turns out that when kids laugh at you or poke fun at you, the last thing you should do is stand up for yourself, unless you're well trained to defend yourself, which I was not. I got into more than a few fights and I don't recall ever being on the winning side. One kid was pushing me through the schoolyard one day after I dared to call him a bastard for the way he was treating me. I was no more than 8 or 9 years old. I didn't know what "bastard" meant. To me it was just a word to use when you want to sound tough, and I desperately wanted to sound like I was not defenseless. My mother happened to be passing by and intercepted this kid who was pushing me through the yard. Other parents nearby did nothing. I was lucky my mum stepped in. She took me home, and I never returned to that school.

I don't know all the details of how and why I left that school. I know I was glad to be leaving. It had been a horrible year and I never wanted to go back. Even now, over 20 years later, I still feel angry when I drive past that school on my way to work. Resentment is a way of life for me! I feel like I have so much unfinished business that it frustrates me to leave it all incomplete. I lost, and that's that. It leaves me bitter. Anyway, on to school number 3. Same problems, different location. The thing that made this one even worse, was that the bullying continued outside of school. One example; I was playing football with a friend near my home when a kid from my class (who I didn't think I had an issue with) was walking past with his older brothers, and one of them decided to beat the shit out of me. I don't recall why. I'd never met the guy. I have no idea why he decided I deserved that. I was just a 10 year old kid kicking a ball around with his friend. It wasn't the first time I'd been completely taken by surprise and it wouldn't be the last. During the last 18 months of my Primary School years I was beaten more times than I care to remember. It didn't make me feel any better when my teacher would ask me about my facial bruises in front of the whole class. Some kids in the room knew where the marks had come from, but my response was always something along the lines of "I got hit by a football". What shit is that? A football is going to give you a huge lump beside your eye? I knew it wouldn't be believed, but my excuses never seemed to be questioned.

So, to recap, I had no friends in school, I was getting into fights all the time, going home angry, frustrated and sad. My "friends" outside of school were not to be trusted. One of them told my first real girlfriend that I had cheated on her, which I hadn't! Silly as it may sound for someone around 11 years old, but it hurt that a girl began hating me based on a lie told by someone ​I trusted. Another few of my so called friends beat me up, again for reasons I don't even remember. It was just an absolutely brutal period in my life, and it wasn't going to end anytime soon. On to High School. It was bad enough having enemies my own age. Now they were up to 7 years older. I spent 5 years at my new school. I was hated. I had more fights than I can count. Once I stood up for myself and I was ambushed by a few dozen pricks. I behaved badly in class to try and make others laugh. Maybe they'd like me if I was the class clown. The laughs were temporary. 5 years of absolute hell. I don't even want to describe it in detail. It would break even the strongest heart to hear all the details.

I took up smoking, I was rebellious with teachers, abandoned my educational goals, just to name but a few misbehaviours. I'm ashamed to say that I also mistreated several "weaker" individuals in order to make myself feel less weak. I feel ridiculously guilty for that. I guess it's the reason why some people bully others; to cope with their own inadequacy. I wouldn't say I was a rampant bully! I didn't go around beating people! There were just a few examples of times when I was unkind to others and I regret them all so much! I would've done anything to fit in and be accepted. During these 5 years I completely lost track of everything that I was. I developed what I called "Chameleon Neil". I was a different person depending on the company I was with. I tried to appeal to the personalities of specific individuals.

For example, there were people who I knew would appreciate my sense of humour, and I felt confident making jokes around them. I was the Neil they wanted to be around! There were others who expected a more reserved Neil who showed a clear disliking for authority, or the Neil who displayed his intellect, or the Neil who acted stupid to make people laugh, or the Neil who acted like a rebel who would drink and smoke and pretend like it was no big deal. It was such a juggling act. I had to be a different person for everyone I met, so that everyone I met would want to be around me. The only way I could make this work was if I could instantly understand everyone I met. I developed the ability to size up people very quickly. Who is this person? What do they want? What do they like? I was a student of human nature. Nothing else mattered except making people like me. The opinions of others ruled my life. My brain naturally went into overdrive. Constantly analysing people and developing responses to their words and actions became second nature. The most tragic thing about this was that it didn't work. When I finally had the opportunity to leave this school and move on to a higher education course in a subject that I was interested in, I thought I would finally be around people who shared my ambitions. Throughout my teenage years I developed a talent for music. I wrote songs, and taught myself how to sing. I won two competitions by singing my own compositions and playing guitar. So naturally, when I went to study music, I thought I'd get along better with the other students. As it turned out, unsurprisingly, I was wrong.

Given how long these social problems had rambled on for, I began to question whether other people were really the problem. Surely there's something wrong with me? I'm the connection between all these events. I must be doing something wrong! We had a music class which was socially divided in two. Half the class liked pop music, and half the class liked rock music. That's putting it in very basic terms but it's essentially true. I was one of the pop fans. I was a source of amusement for the rock fans. They felt they were more intelligent when it came to musical interests. My interest in pop music stemmed from the fact that listening to a lot of it made me feel less sad. These rock lovers saw it as a less evolved musical taste, like I didn't know what good music was. It sounds so silly! I was now 16/17. This was when I discovered alcohol and drugs, and they quickly became my most potent escape. I'd take ecstasy to feel happy, but when it wore off I'd feel horrible. I'd smoke weed to have a laugh, but it was temporary. I'd drink alcohol by the bucket load. This only led to more depression and fighting. I'd had more than my fair share of bullshit. I took an overdose of painkillers. I had no idea whether this would do the job or not but I took them with the desire to end my life. Within minutes I felt awful. What was I doing? My family would be devastated. I woke my mum and told her what I had done. Maybe deep down I'd only done it because I wanted people to know how much I was suffering. I had to do something. I couldn't keep living like this.

Mum gave me a glass of water with salt in it. Drinking it made me sick, and that took care of the pills I had taken. I spent the next few days in a psychiatric ward. It was the happiest week of my life. I didn't have to worry about pleasing people. I had no pressure or concerns. I was surrounded by people with similar problems; with worse problems in fact. After 1 week, the doctors mistook my joviality for recovery and I was promptly sent back to the real world. I was terrified and worried. I had to face people again. I didn't return to my education. I just couldn't face it. I spent the next 7 months working. Pubs, factories, whatever I could get. All the while I continued to be miserable and to drink too much, and I continued using whatever drugs I could get my hands on. I found myself keeping the worst of company. I had a gun pointed at me at one party. I may have been drugged and raped at another. I don't remember. All the anger and frustration was bubbling beneath the surface and I was hiding it and blocking it out with distractions. I can safely say that had the next chapter of my life not occurred, I would've completely destroyed myself. I signed up for a new course. This was a work experience program for the unemployed. 6 weeks training followed by 7 weeks work experience in Canada, ending with 7 weeks work experience at home. The goal was to end up employed, but it wasn't employment that changed my life, it was her.

Rachel signed up from across the border in the Irish Republic, whereas I signed up from the North. She seemed so easy going and so controlled, like she knew herself, was content with herself, and nothing would bother her. She had such a calming effect on me. Suddenly it was less important to impress others. I only needed to appeal to her. It was easy! We were like best friends right from the start. She laughed at my jokes! She clearly wanted to be around me! She seemed more interested in me than I was with myself, and my word she was cute! She loved to go walking and ate healthy foods. She didn't drink very much and she had never known bitterness or true despair like I had. Talking to her was the best therapy I ever had. There were no hidden agendas, no masks. She was just a joyful, caring, honest person. Everything I'd ever wanted people to be! The best part was, she quickly came to understand and accept me. I'd never found it easier to talk to anyone. She listened, she understood and she fell in love with me within a couple of months. Needless to say, I fell absolutely, insanely in love with her too. I knew this was someone I wanted to spend everyday of my life with. I didn't have to work at it. She brought out the natural Neil! No more pretences! No more chameleon! I rediscovered who I was and no longer felt like I had to satisfy other people. I mean, fuck them! I'm me! That's who I am! I can't be anyone else! I like what I like! I do what I do! Rachel loves me for who I am and we love spending time together. If you don't like me, that's fine! If I don't like you, that's cool. We'll go our separate ways! Now that's not to say that I don't retain some level of protection for myself. I don't trust anyone at all, until I'm sure of them. I can't be taken advantage of anymore and I'm not the naive youngster I once was. If I feel you're taking me for a ride or having a laugh at my expense, I'll be rid of you so fast!

It's been 13 years since I met Rachel and she completely changed my life. We were married in September 2015. It was a day that very much reflected who we are. Geeky as hell! Non-stop fun from start to finish. Of course, it was an unforgettable occasion!

I wish I could say that I've lived happily ever after since meeting Rachel. I dread to think where I'd be without her, but the psychological damage from my early life didn't just go away. I may have become more comfortable with myself and rediscovered my own identity, but I still feel so much hatred and anger, and even through the happiest periods of my life with Rachel, I've only buried my negative emotions. They haven't gone away. The downside of my "awakening", as I call it, is my absolute loathing of authority. Anyone trying to control me, direct me, disrespect me or otherwise annoy me in any way, feels my anger. I lash out. I fight back, for the first time in my life. I haven't been in a physical confrontation while I've been with Rachel, but my desire to protect myself has often landed me in hot water when it comes to work. I've talked my way to dismissals. I've walked out of jobs because I refuse to be treated like just another number. I've made life very difficult for both of us on a number of occasions. Rachel tends to put up with the kind of treatment that I despise so she tends to last much longer in jobs than I do. I can't help it. I try to be professional but after a while I just can't take it anymore. If I feel the boss is being disrespectful or downright idiotic, I'll speak up. I'll argue back. I'll express myself, after decades of being silent. I'll be fired. It's an intolerable way to live. It doesn't help that I keep working in industries that I hate with a passion. I keep landing sales jobs, and I've been very good at them in the past, but I can't lie and deceive people into giving me their money, so I end up moving on. I can't work with people because I hate them so much. Despite my conscience, I just can't stand people. I find them selfish. Inconsiderate. Rude. This affects every aspect of my life and I've developed anxiety as a result of trying to deal with people without losing my temper. I instinctively don't trust anyone and because I've put so much effort into understanding people and adjusting my own personality to be compatible with others, I know all the tricks. When someone is bullshitting, I know. At least, I think I do.

I like to think that the opinions and approval of others doesn't mean as much to me as it used to, but I still get paranoid that other people are talking about me behind my back, and I get wound up when I think someone has gotten the wrong idea about me. I still go out of my way to help people and do good things, but I think nowadays it's more about making myself feel good, even if it's temporary. Maybe it's getting a little confusing now, but that's what it's like in my head. It's chaos and confusion, mistrust, anger, frustration and a complete lack of joy and enthusiasm. I've fallen out of love with music, performing and writing songs. I don't play any of the sports that I used to play. My days are filled only by distractions that don't involve other people. TV mostly. I could quote lines from films I saw years ago, but I shudder when I think about speaking to people face to face. Too afraid to go outside but desperately unhappy sitting at home. Crack open another bottle. The only source of comfort for me is Rachel. I trust her. I love being around her. I miss her desperately when we're apart. She calms me down, and these days that's a precious, precious gift.

I've had 3 half hearted suicide attempts in my life. I've been hospitalised twice. Ive seen psychiatrists on an off for most of my life. Nevertheless I have a wonderful wife who loves and supports me with every ounce of energy in her heart. I'm about to buy a house, and I have a good job with a progressive company. So why am I still unhappy? That's the point of this story. It's not about what you have or how much support you receive. If your past has left you traumatized, then the people who enter your life and try to help could be fighting a losing battle. It is not your fault. There was nothing more you could have done. You didn't spot the warning signs because they were hidden. Don't ever blame yourself for losing someone to this emotional chaos. I've accepted that it will always be a part of me, because I can't change my past. All I can do is get as much help as I can to learn how to live. I sincerely thank you for reading this long story. I hope you understand a little better how and why the mind adapts to your experiences and why it's not so easy to change. Depression and suicidal thoughts are not always just about recent events and current circumstances. They are a culmination of a lifetime of experiences and that's what makes it so difficult to overcome.

Just keep that love in your heart for those closest to you. They appreciate it more than you know.