Earlier on this year, my Step-Dad-to-be bought me a car. A second hand Peugeot 207, 2002 plate, pale blue that I named Martin. Some people might think it’s strange naming a car but I treasure that car because I know without my Step-Dad that would not have happened.
I have yet to pass my driving test but when the car was bought for me, I envisioned to be driving by the end of the year. At the time I did not know that my mental health would deteriorate at such a rate and force me to quit lessons and driving in Martin.
Now I’m feeling better, I am resuming lessons at the end of this month and have driven Martin a couple of times over the past few weeks.
I went out to start Martin this morning. His battery was dead. Rob and my next door neighbor helped to charge it up. It is now running again. Rob came to ask me if I wanted to go for a drive just around my town. I declined. I am now sat in my bedroom crying.
I feel like a complete failure.
I told my Step-Dad that I would keep driving Martin, that the money and car wouldn’t be wasted. But it has. All of that money he put into that car has gone to waste. I am such a disappointment. I wanted to make him proud but I have just let him down. I can see it in his face when we talk about driving.
It’s at moments like this that I realise how much I hate myself. At times like this I want to cease to exist.
youngmentalhealth 