Chelsea

This is going to be the hardest thing to accomplish on my list, I think. As far back as I can remember, there has never been a time where I never bit or picked at tmy fingertips and nails. Not only do I just pick at the nail, but I peel and tear at the flesh around it. I don’t even realize I am doing it till I look down and notice the blood on my hands. My fingertips are weak and scarred from this. What causes me to do this, I just don’t know. I have read up on it and it is linked to several mental illnesses, or whatever you want to call them. Obsessive compulsive being one of them. Schizophrenia is another. There are different techniques on how to quit the addiction, but none of them have worked for me. It’s going to take more than a few techniques for me to accomplish this goal. I just wish I knew what. I don’t want to have ugly hands for the rest of my life. I get so jealous of other girls who have long shiny finger nails that are all painted up and classy.

It seems like forever ago, the first time I considered quitting highschool altogether and getting my G.E.D. It was a hard time for me, as I struggled with my family, angrily threatening to get my G.E.D. Many things had led me to this resentment, mainly the bad treatment I had always received from teachers, and especially students. I’ve never been popular with anyone, being an overweight girl who plays video games, and hangs out with boys all of the time rather than spending my free time painting my nails and gossiping about who is dating who. Being very free spirited and independent, believing intensely about my own decisions, and wishing of only to do what I want to, I was constantly on edge, as teachers called out orders to students, and prevented many from doing reasonable things like going to the bathroom, or going to their locker for forgetting something. I stuck up for myself many times, and these actions got me in trouble. The pressure of being disliked, even hated, by other students and teachers was starting to break me down. Being extremely A.D.D. kept me from having exceptional grades. Teachers were unwilling to work with me to help me out in things I didn’t understand, plus I was always too embarrased to ask. I suffered, with my nose stuck in my sketches and doodles, and my mind stuck in a dream world and I got further and further behind in my work. Moving to Indiana, and back to Alabama, to Arkansas didn’t help much either. I was constantly being screwed, anally, by the school boards, due to different state requierments and what have you. I had passed the graduation exam in THREE different states, yet I was many, many credits behind. When I failed the 12th grade for the first time, I wasn’t shocked. I decided to homeschool, but then I moved to Arkansas. Nothing I had accomplished in homeschooling had transferred. More hope lost. I was ready to quit. But I didn’t. Something was stopping me from going on any further. In Arkansas, I went to the most redneck school in existence. I was surrounded by people who judged me by my color, my introverted personality, being threatened by others for merely bumping into them in the busy hallway, having things thrown at me. It was a scary school. My stress level has never been so high, and I constantly cried as my mom on the way home from school. After a while, I learned that the school bus stops right in front of our apartment. I decide to start taking it. It was relaxing, really. I would listen to my music constantly, and nap, or do last minute studying and homework. This stopped when a group of younger girls took interest in me. They constantly asked me questions like, Why I was wearing what I was. Why my hair color was pink. Their posse leader would tell me how ugly it was, and it made me feel horrible. I would tell them off on occasion, but their favorite way to counter my attacks were by laughing it off. I quit taking the bus. In fact, I quit going to school, slowly. Not waking up, oversleeping, acting sick. I made myself sick. As I fell into this depression, I began falling further, and further behind. I was ready to get my G.E.D. That was till I learned of an option. Internet classes. This went well for a while, but of course, I began to lose interest. The math was intimidating. Being a hands on learner, I gave up. Then I tried to go back to school, when I was given the opportunity to go to an art and science magnet school. I was so excited, and went for about 2-3 weeks. I wasn’t picked on here, I even made a friend or two. I was beginning to feel confident. But then I learned that this new school district required more than I imagined. I cried. I would be graduating at nearly 21 at that pace. It was all over. But that little itching feeling in my chest kept telling me that there was an option. It wasn’t like getting my diploma was the only option to success. I believed that anyone can succeed with a G.E.D. But the fact that I had come this far from accomplish something that I thought I wouldn’t be able to accomplish years ago kept me going. That’s when I worked hard to apply to a credit recovery academy. Kids my age, even older, with their own stories of why they couldn’t excel in public school would be dilligently working quietly on their own to finish something they started a long long time ago. Students at the academy hadn’t applied be insulting the teachers, making fun of others, and obnoxiously disturbing class. They applied to do nothing but work hard to graduate. The maturity of my peers surprised me, and finally I felt smart and special. I went from being 8 credits behind, to being 2 credits closer to doing something I thought I couldn’t. I finally tasted the power of being able to beat this level of my life. I’m so proud of myself for not quitting. If you are 19 like me, or even older, I know you can graduate yourself. If you are thinking about getting your G.E.D., please listen to me when I say this: You can do it! If I can, you can! :)