Why I am failing all my classes

My IQ is 126 in stress situations. I used to be really good at school. I never really had to study.

I am failing all my classes. I repeated this year. I am supposed to sit my A-Levels in a few months. I don’t think I ever will.

I am late for school almost every day. I can’t sleep at night. I can’t get up in the mornings. I lay in bed until I only have five minutes left. I missed my bus more often than I catched it.

I leave school early almost every day. I can’t concentrate. I can’t get through it. I feel like I can’t stay awake any longer. I feel like it doesn’t even matter if I am there or not. I can’t listen anyways. I never understand a thing. I don’t even try to.

I show up without my homework every single day. I don’t even try to do them. I don’t even write them down in class. I don’t even listen to what they are. I never unpack my books. I have to choose every day between lying to my teachers and risking the chance of them finding out and lowering my grade and telling them and have them lower my grade.

I don’t talk. If I do, it’s because I catched a few words and had an idea. I need so much time to build up the bravery to show up. I most often don’t think about the questions. I most often don’t even hear them.

I am afraid of every single teacher. I am pretty sure that they all think I’m lazy and always skipping school. I am pretty sure that they hate me just as much as I hate myself. I am pretty sure that they hate when I ask something. So I try to never ask.

I never study. I read a few sentences on the internet two minutes before an exam. I sit through an exam hating myself for not studying. I sit there panicking. But I end up not studying for the next one either.

My therapist always asks me to explain why it’s so hard to start. But it’s so hard to explain. I don’t think I can.

But when I think about doing homework, my thoughts are:
“I need to get up. I need to move my legs, my arms, my hands, my head, my everything. I need to walk to the hallway to get my bag. I need to open the bag. I need to find the right book. I need to take that book out of the bag. I need to take out my pencil case. I need to take out my notebook. I need to close the bag. I need to walk back to my room. I need to sit down. I need to get out the pen. I need to open the pen. I need to hold the pen. I need to put the pen down on the paper. I need to hold onto that paper. I need to open the book. I need to search for the right page. I need to search for the sentence. I need to focus my eyes on the letters. I need to read the sentences. I need to understand the text. I need to remember the facts. I need to focus my eyes on the paper again. I need to move my hand. I need to think about what letter to write. I need to find the right words. I need to move my hand all the way from the left to the right, up and down. I need to breathe. I need to blink. I need to shut out all the noise. I need to find a position I can sit in for a while. I need to make my brain think. I need to think. I need to stay awake. I need to …

I haven’t even started at this point. And even a single one of these tasks feels as if I could never master it. No matter how much I tried.

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These are the things I no longer wish to understand

I no longer wish to understand, why you would give someone the power to make their words become your thoughts. To make you hate yourself so much.

I no longer wish to understand the ongoing panic, even when nothing in particular is happening. The fear of the fear. Developing into a thing so big, that you can’t stop it from attacking you. That you can’t control it, and – most importantly – yourself, anymore.

I no longer wish to understand this constant idea in your head, that tells you everybody hates you. That makes you believe, the absence of the evidence that someone doesn’t hate you equals them actually hating you.

I no longer wish to understand the obsession you develope once you decide to trust someone. The attachement. The fear of losing them. The realization that this relationship only exists in order to end.

I no longer wish to understand why someone would push away a loved one in order to make sure they’ll stay, instead of pulling them closer and holding on to them.

I no longer wish to understand the thoughts that control you every single day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. That make you want to leave this world. That won’t leave you alone even in the better moments.

I no longer wish to understand why someone would wish for death, even though they know that they’ve been gifted with a life.

I no longer wish to understand the way it stings in the shower the next day. The guilt of realizing what you’ve done and the idea that maybe you deserved it.

I no longer wish to understand why someone would prefer the touch of a razor blade to their skin over that of a loved one.

I no longer wish to understand how you have to explain it over and over. How it is so much worse than every other bodypart being sick. How there exists such a stigma on a single topic.

I no longer wish to understand the idea of not being sick enough. Of wasting time others may would have needed more than you. The way the brain is able to deny its own sickness.

I no longer wish to understand why someone would wish to no longer understand the things they have learned to understand.

What happens if I am suicidal at an open ward or treatment center?

This is a question almost everyone who’s been inpatient and deals with suicidal thoughts or suicidal ideation asked themselves. Quiet often patients that are at risk of hurting themselves go unnoticed, because they’re afraid of what will happen if they tell anyone.

Please remember that I am in no way a mental health professional or a person that worked in a mental hospital, everything I write is based on my own experience.

First I’m going to talk about what it was like when I stayed at an inpatient psychosomatic treatment center that wasn’t a psychiatric ward at the hospital.

If you were known to deal with suicidal thoughts you had a talk with the staff once or twice a day and probably were classified into how likely you were to act on these thoughts or ideas. Depending on this information they had a timespan, like 5 to 30 minutes, and if you didn’t show up for the meeting within the given time they had to call you, and if you wouldn’t answer, the police.
In these meetings they would always ask you how you were feeling, what you were doing and what you were planning to do, if you felt suicidal and if you felt like hurting yourself.

As a patient at this open station you were reassured to tell the staff as soon as you start to feel yourself slipping into suicidal thoughts. You then had a talk with the staff and if you could believably distance yourself from these thoughts you could go on like before and just had to come to your check-ups.
If you weren’t able to believably distance yourself from the thoughts you were taken to a room that was under video surveillance and had to talk to a doctor. Most of the time you would have to sleep in this room for a night on an incredibly uncomfortable doctor’s couch with all the trouble of doctors talking to patients and staff or patients coming in for medication going on around you.
On the next day you were supervised during breakfast and then had to sit in front of the staff room glass door and wait for your therapist, your doctor and the consultant who’d be coming in for a crisis visit at your room.
In this crisis visit they would ask you a lot of questions so they could see if they could trust you that you’re safe. If you were, you had to promise them via handshake and would probably get a so called anti-suicide-contract. If you weren’t safe, you would be taken to the local psychiatric ward and stay in the closed ward for a few days. If your stay would take more than 4 days your bed at the treatment center would have been given to a new patient and you would have to come in for the next free bed whenever you got out of hospital.

If you’re at an open psychiatric ward it would be a lot easier to transfer you to the closed ward and therefor they would send you there faster, even if it would be just for a night, because it’s just such a high risk for them to let you stay on the ward without being supervised all the time. If you were to actually do something that could take your own life it would be their fault, so if there is the option to let you sleep in a room that is under video surveillance they would probably take it.

Never be afraid to tell anyone that you’re suicidal, because all they want to do is help you and keep you safe. You won’t be sectioned under the mental health act or anything if you collaborate and try to keep yourself safe as well.

Suicide is a permanent solution to problems that may not feel temporary but are! You are worth to keep living and your life matters. If you tell someone about the struggles you’re facing they will be able to help you.

I know it’s scary, but it’s important.


Need help now?

  • Call 911 or your national emergeny number.
  • 1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433)
  • 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-8255)
  • Text: 1-800-799-4TTY (1-800-799-4889)
  • International Suicide Hotlines