28/04/2024

Too Anxious for School 

 This was the hardest thing to write. The memories came back hard. I’ll admit, I’ve left some stories out. It was just too much to think about.

For most of us, the word school can conjure up some amazing memories: the enjoyment of seeing friends, running around the playground, being taught by your favourite teacher, or just pure love for learning. 

However, if you ask me, I'd say one word, terrifying! 

Was this due to not having friends? -  

‘’Nope, I had a great group of mates.’’  

Was this due to bullying? -  

‘’I was pasty, shy, randomly girly, and cracking jokes endlessly so, yeah, I had the odd bit of shade thrown my way but nothing intense’’ 

I’d say ‘terrifying,’ as I was scared of the building itself: the noise, the amount of people, the sensory overload, and the fear I was just too stupid to learn.  

Can I replace the word terrifying with ‘’I Fucking Hated School’’ instead please? 

Let’s roll back to pre-school, around 5 years old, a shy cockney sounded yet a very polite little boy, I remember being in class and I pissed myself. Yup, I was that kid! I clearly recall sitting in the classroom singing that god-awful song, ‘

’If You’re Happy and You Know It Clap Your Hands’’  

(I still hate that song)  

As the class were singing, I was busting for a wee! Now, remember I was painfully shy and a nervous child so raising my hand filled me with dread and terror. 

It got to the point I needed to put my hand up and ask to go to the toilet. Finally, I had permission to relieve myself... which I did, the only thing was I did it in the hallway en-route to the bathroom. Holding it in for far too long... it was always going to happen. Classy, right? 

This is a bloody long arse time ago so I’m not sure how accurate the memory is, but I recall being told off by the teacher and taken to the dreaded lost and found box for a spare change of trousers. I can still see the colour and fabric of the green velvet baggy joggers I had to put on (how mad is that)

As soon as I changed out of the wet clothing into an old, smelly pair of oversized bottoms, I was sat down while someone mopped up my delightful mess. 

It goes without saying I couldn’t wait to go home. I was so upset.  

When it was time to leave, my mum picked me up and she was told everything. She reassured me it was fine; I could sense her being upset on my behalf. She said something like ‘

’’these things happen and not to worry’’  

From that day on I have no memory going back to pre-school. 

Luckily, primary school was a lot better; I mean, I was having the odd panic attack, but I was a master at hiding these, sadly hiding my facial tics wasn't so easy. This was the first sign of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) coming to light. 

At the time my OCD traits were in the form of habits, tics, and an urge to touch things multiple times before leaving a room. Surprisingly no one bullied me for this, and I was labelled

‘the funny one’

which helped me get away with the ‘quirks’ with very minimal teasing.  

Day to day I felt, not unhappy, just very worried, anxious and batshit crazy. Typical 8-year-old, no?  

Anyway...when it was time to leave primary school things became tough. With most of my friends going to different high schools, understandably my anxiety rocketed, and when I’m anxious ‘still to this day, my OCD becomes unbearable, a little bitch if you will.  

From 11 years old my OCD went from funny little habits to intrusive thoughts, anger, tic riddled and extremally stressful! This made leaving my house to go to school immensely hard.

My mind plagued with,

‘You’re not good enough, you’re ugly worthless and pointless’

At its worst, thoughts of harming myself and others would creep in; picturing myself picking my bricks and hitting people with them or jumping in front of cars and buses. Some of the thoughts were so bad I would walk home from school thinking how I’d kill myself without seeing blood (squeamish and I liked things clean so no way I was using anything sharp… logic right there) 

Needless to say, it wasn’t a super happy time in my life. 

Panic attacks soon began to creep in the night before school. Lying awake with my OCD doing my nut in! I had this strange urge to straighten out creases in the curtains, driving my brothers insane while they tried to sleep haha, it’s a bit funny really.

I would check every lock in the house, both windows and doors. It felt like I never slept.  

After a few months of high school, I started to bunk off and traipse the streets of the many council estates in East London, which went on forever. Throwing a bag of clothes out my bedroom window, saying bye to my mum as I left for the bus stop.

My parents had no idea I was changing and occupying myself from 9-3:30 for 5 days a week. 

A month or two went by, and I gave up walking the streets, I wasn’t an idiot, I knew I’d be caught so I started to socialise with adults throughout the school days, smoking, watching them drink (I had a fear of vomiting, so I’d not touch a drop of booze- My OCD-mind right there)  

I know, I know, this all sounds fucking insane. But to me, at the time it was my normal. 

Almost a year had passed of me dodging school thinking I got away with It but what a fool I was. One day getting home from ‘school’ to be greeted by two very pissed-off parents holding a letter in hand. They were summoned to attend the school with a threat of court looming for breaking the law. I didn’t know me not going to school was illegal... oops, my bad.  

I felt terrible! They both worked their bollox off while raising another 3 children, including a baby and there's me, too scared to go and learn.  

After ALOT of shouting It was decided, my dad would take the mornings off work and drive me to the school gates every day, which he did for weeks. I was coming home, and they did seem a lot less stressed, we would watch Art Attack (showing my age) and have dinner.

What they didn’t know is I wasn’t going to school at all. I would get out the car, wave bye and run to a random little place to hyperventilate, cry and panic in private. 

Did they find out? of course. One morning my dad drove me to the gates and yet again I waited, not knowing he knew what I was up to. He was around the corner waiting to jump out and scream at me. This is where I was finally caught. 

‘This is starting to sound like a cheap Channel 5 crime drama’  

I’ve never seen someone so angry in all my life, not even on TV. I was screamed at, picked up and shaken; I can’t even remember the words coming from his mouth, but I can still feel the anger and disappointment to this day. The two people that gave me life and I treated them like this? they clearly saw me as a little shit acting up, but it wasn’t that simple. I was a mentally unwell child having panic attacks, intrusive thoughts, planning to take my own life and all before my ball sack had even dropped!

This Was Not The Norm For a Now 11-year-old boy. 

The school decided to remove me, and home-schooling was provided, lasting a matter of weeks. Soon after I was placed in a school, (I say school, it was a little makeshift box) for children with behavioural issues somewhere in London. 

It was clear I wasn’t meant to be there and lucky enough the teachers knew this. I mean, I wasn’t setting fire to a classmate’s hair, was it? (True story btw)

I attended for a few days until it was time for doctors to be involved and well, still to this day I don’t know what the adults spoke about. Phobia of school and crowds was mentioned but all I remember was being asked

‘‘Are you being bullied’ over and over and over. 

• I wish I was asked more.  

• I wish I knew what anxiety, OCD and depression meant.  

• I wish THEY knew what it all meant.  

• I wish they asked what I was feeling and listened. 

• I WISH that mental health was recognised.

Barely a teenager and I left school with reading, writing, and forget spelling skills. I mean, I knew where to get a pack of fags for a good price but don’t think that’s something to be proud of.  

My skills were all very basic and remained that way until my late 20s.  

Let’s not turn this into my autobiography and leave it as a shit time in my life (Violins please)  

Roll on to the present, it's 2024 and I’m achieving things I was told were not possible, I allowed my lack of education due to mental-ill-health stand in my way for far too long. The fact I:

• Left school so young 

• Being Dyslexic  

• Suppressing my mental health problems 

• Fearful of being judged 

It took having a breakdown to push me to improve my life.  

In 2020-21 while working full time I opted to take on an internship. I started a few short courses in ‘Mindfulness, Psychology, and two in Mental Health Awareness. TV was replaced with books

(Although I did binge The Lincoln Lawyer recently...for the second time) 

I’ve achieved more in the past few years than in my whole life! I’ve changed my mindset, switched out bad habits and truly feel on track to being my best self. I have realised you’re never too old to learn- the beneficial lesson being?  

I truly think I was suffering with Scolionophobia, AKA Didaskaleinophobia. A phobia of school.

This occurs in 1.5- 2% of school-aged children.  

Maybe we should consider Scolionophobia (Didaskaleinophobia) before attaching yet another label

‘Yet Another Problem Child’

  Mental health has a spotlight shining on it right now, and I couldn’t be more thankful! More and more young people are opening up about their struggles. This shows the stigma is being broken down, slowly but surely and this openness could save lives!  

According to the World Health Organisation (WHO), An estimated 1 in 7 (14%) of 10–19-year-olds globally experience mental health conditions, which remain largely unrecognized and untreated. Anxiety and depressive disorders can profoundly affect school attendance and schoolwork. Social withdrawal can exacerbate isolation and loneliness. Depression can lead to suicide’ 

For support and advice, check out the below resources.

World Health Organization 

Scolionophobia-Fear-of-School 

Fear-of-School-Phobia-Didaskaleinophobia 

www.mentalhealth.org.uk