I started at Fraser High in 1991. Thankfully being a “turd” former wasn’t as bad as I was led to believe. Nobody threw rubbish on me and our lockers were cube shaped so they didn’t fit teenagers in them (not that I’m aware of anyway).

It was quite a large school, possibly the largest in Hamilton. It was also rumoured to be the drug capitol of high schools. I was quite proud of that, although I have no idea if there was any truth to it or if I understood what it meant. I certainly did have some brushes in that area but I’ll talk more about that later.

It was quite different having classes in different buildings which were scattered over a reasonable expanse. No wonder I was so slim. I walked or rode 4km each way to school, spent a lot of time walking between classes, and then did my paper run.

I was put into the “brainy” class for math’s and science and I was rather perplexed about that. Had my grades been good enough at Intermediate, despite my attendance? I guess so.

I didn’t mind being in the brainy class, but I was in for a rude awakening as I don’t feel like I had previously put in much effort to get the desired result. Things were different now, there was lots of homework and it turns out smart kids are quite competitive and some were even a bit “up themselves”.

It wasn’t long before I realized that I kept seeing the same girl in some of my classes and I sometimes saw her on the walk home. We both realized we lived down the road from each other and soon after we became attached at the hip.

I had a very diverse group of friends and there were times I tried to integrate them and it wasn’t always successful with personalities and views clashing. I’m grateful that I had so many friends as I realize now that I felt quite isolated with my skin issues and they insulated me from further isolation. It’s hard to believe that despite my insecurities that I was still quite an outgoing individual. I think I enjoyed socializing more than the school work by that point.

I was using humour to mask the difficulties I was having and I’m sure I might have started being a bit disruptive in class (those who know me, know I’m very talkative). I realize now that I use humour quite a lot to uplift my mood, defuse awkward situations and possibly even bring attention to myself to cover up any insecurities. Don’t ask me how that works? Maybe I needed those positive interactions to take away from the negative interactions when I was bullied?

While I didn’t experience any bullying from being a turd former that I recall, I was still getting bullied because of my “spots”. It was unfortunate that some kids who gave me grief in intermediate were in some of my classes in high school and it’s like picking on me was their role in life. I know now that people only do that stuff if they’re unhappy with themselves. I wish I knew that then. They say sticks and stones will break your bones and names will never hurt you. I can say with absolute certainty, that that saying is bullshit. Being picked on for many years is damaging on a level some people will never understand.

Nothing else stands out about that year. The next year started much the same but I was moving up the rungs and I was now a fourth former.

That year they put me in the “brainy class” again but this time it was for english and social studies. These subjects were a bit more “up my alley” as I really enjoyed creative writing. I think social studies was more about geography. If it was as suggested, I certainly would of excelled.

Fourth form was much the same as third form, though unfortunately the eczema was still hanging around despite trying all sorts of treatments. It was so frustrating and at that stage I’d had the problem for three long years. I was turning into a pretty angry young lady that’s for sure. Although I didn’t want to be the same as everybody else, I didn’t want to be different either. Such complex individuals we humans are.

I’m pretty sure it was part way through fourth form that I started to experiment with alcohol and marijuana. I remember going to a party (gathering) during the day, with one of my friends. I think it was the August holidays and we took along a hipflask of Southern Comfort to share and I also brought along a “special cigarette”. I had access to some marijuana and I also had access to a cigarette rolling machine which took empty shell cigarettes which looked like real tailor-made cigarettes. I stuffed the cylinder with three quarters marijuana and one quarter tobacco and put the empty cigarette shell in and with a slide of hand, voila I had what looked like a perfectly innocent cigarette. When we got to the party, I told everybody about my special cigarette and they all looked at me, like I was mad and full of shit. When I lit the smoke up, after a few moments the smell changed from tobacco to marijuana. There were no further qualms after the validity of the smoke, with multiple people partaking. Very innovative if I do say so myself.

I had already been dabbling with cigarettes from the tender age of eleven, and the very first time I had a puff, I got caught which was rather unlucky. My friend and I were outside the movie theatre minding our own business and two older girls we didn’t know came up and asked if we wanted a puff on the smoke. We said sure and both had a puff. I would find out later that a colleagues of dad’s happened to be driving past and saw us. What are the chances!? The conversation that followed later with my parents was not pleasant and it was unfair as I thought I’d gotten away with it by this time. I was not deterred by my telling off and I would continue to dabble with smoking on and off until I became a full time smoker, some years later.

At the end of the year we had to choose our fifth form subjects. We would sit school certificate (school cert) in fifth form so it was very important to chose carefully as your results would be your stepping stone to further education and/or potential work opportunities.

Mum and dad had to come to school to do a parent teacher thing and the science teacher made no bones about saying “you must take science for school cert otherwise you’ll have no hope of getting a job”. I remember making it known that I didn’t enjoy science and it’s frustrating that I was naïve enough to believe the teacher and got pushed into doing science that next year.

The new year began and now I was at the midway point of high school pretty much. A big fifth former.

The ongoing skin problems caused me to struggle with feeling different and not feeling good enough. My friends had boyfriends or admirers and I longed for that too. I’m sure these type of issues only exacerbated my feelings of depression. I remember being told at the time, “well at least you’re not fat”. While that statement was well intended at the time, to make me feel better, it was something that would haunt me later on in life after I gained a few kilos.

I think it was the fear of the unknown (especially with the bullying) which kept the anxiety brewing and the insomnia issues continuing, none of which were helping my attendance or my mood.

At some point during the year (it’s 1993 and I’m fifteen) things went downhill a little further. One day I woke up and my eyes were bloodshot. Just like my eczema, nobody knew what caused it or how to fix it. As with the eczema it was there 24/7, there was no respite. There were different degrees of red though, slightly bloodshot, pretty bloodshot and vampire bloodshot. Unfortunately, on the days I was sleep deprived they seem to be worse, which was a lot.

The common theory among these ailments was that it was some sort of allergic reaction. I’d be dammed if anybody knew what I was actually allergic to though. I would find out later that I did have an allergy to printers ink, so delivering the newspaper was probably not the best job for me. Good old hindsight. I’m definitely not convinced that was the actual cause, although to this day I hate the way my hands feel when I’ve been touching newspaper or anything which leaves residue. I have very clean hands. I think these are HSP related.

I was not in a good space at this time, I could hardly stand the sight of myself. When I looked in the mirror, all I could see was the spots and red eyes. I had already been bullied for four years and told I was ugly and all sorts of names, this only exacerbated my self-loathing.

I can’t remember exactly how long I had both issues for but some time later that year, the eczema decided it had finished with me. Although that was a relief I still had to deal with having red eyes.

Mum had taken me to a homeopath and put me on a special diet. I think his treatment plan helped but in my mind it was mum who actually fully healed the eczema. She had been reading books for years to try and “fix” me and had recently put me on high doses of different vitamins and supplements. She also got me to squeeze vitamin E capsules onto my skin to reduce scarring. I do believe this helped but something that worked in my favour was my fair skin. I don’t really tan so my scars aren’t visible unless you’re looking for them. I had also been teased for being “so white”, so it’s ironic that the feature that I loathed, was actually a benefit to me. I was starting to wonder though if there was anything good about the way I looked as people sure had a lot to say about me and it wasn’t usually complimentary.

Even though my eczema had cleared up, the damage had been done to my grades and to my mental wellbeing. I had completely dropped out of science. There was a combination of things going on there. I hated it and I was angry at being forced to take the class. There came a time when I just stopped turning up to the class and I don’t think I even sat the exam. I’m not sure how I explained that one to my parents.

My parents were aware of my absences for the first few years. I wasn’t sleeping well, was tired all of the time and sometimes I just couldn’t cope with all of the bullying. I was anxious and depressed although I don’t know if I knew these conditions had names at the time. I’m not exactly sure when it began, but I started taking some liberties with my attendance, although I don’t recall leaving school grounds that often so I must of been hiding in plain sight. Considering that school was the source of my anxieties as that’s where I was bullied, I can totally understand why I didn’t want to be there, more so in class.

Somehow or another, after sitting my exams, I managed to pass three out of my five subjects, so I had officially passed school cert. I feel eternally grateful that I must of been graced with some natural talent in the brains department as I certainly did not put in as much effort as I could of. I can’t imagine what I would of done if I had to do it all over again as I really was sick of school by then. I do wonder what my results would of looked like though, had I not been going through those things.

Join me in Part II where I talk about my remaining years of high school and more of my difficulties, triumphs and capers, which I hope will keep you entertained.