My Cultural Awakening: “Thirteen affected my enjoyable youth, until a psychotic episode ended it” | culture

AAt the age of 13, it felt like almost overnight, I went from a happy, musical theater-loving kid to a sad, lonely teenager. The things I cared about only yesterday suddenly became irrelevant, as I realized that nothing and no one mattered, least of all me. It is a worry that adults often have difficulty remembering or understanding; As the famous line from the movie The Virgin Suicides says: “Clearly, Doctor, you were never a 13-year-old girl.”

When I went to an all-girls Catholic school, I didn’t really know that sex, drugs and alcohol existed, or that they had a currency, until I watched Thirteen for the first time when I was 14, after seeing a still on Pinterest. The reckless rebellion portrayed by the two best friends was seductive to me, and within weeks of seeing the film, I met some girls from the co-ed school opposite who were having sex, going to parties, and doing drugs. Soon I was doing all that too.

In the provocative 2003 teen drama, which launched Evan Rachel Wood’s career, 13-year-old Tracy gets her tongue pierced, then her belly button. So I got my tongue pierced, then my belly button. I’ve swapped out my baggy Hunger Games t-shirts for crop tops, low-waisted jeans, and bras. I bleached my hair blonde and snuck out on school nights after my parents went to bed. They had no idea what I was doing. I went to parties at palaces, where we got drunk and tattooed each other. I had sex for the first time. I took acid.

Before that, I felt very uncomfortable, as if I were standing in front of soundproof glass watching everyone laugh at a joke I didn’t hear. Suddenly the color came to life again, and not just color, but brilliance. Now, cool girls wanted to be my friends, and people at school were talking about me; You were interesting, you were somebody. At parties with these amazing girls and boys, I felt important. Thirteen taught me that if you do those things, you’re great, and if you’re great, you matter.

You hear about people partying when they’re young and getting tired of it before they’re adults, but that didn’t happen to me. I continued searching into my late teens, searching for adrenaline, validation, and recognition that I was special. Even though I knew it wasn’t healthy, it took me years to realize that I didn’t always have to drink so much that I had to carry it home. I thought that was the point, and I was still trying to fill the void that appeared when I was 13 by being the last person at the party.

This ended in 2024 With a psychotic episode. I was 20 years old, living in a college dorm but not a student, working a 9-5 job and missing a Tuesday for no reason. The only thing I had to look forward to was the vacation I had been saving for. But when we got there, I pushed things further. After days of not sleeping and eating whatever was offered to me, I entered a state of psychosis that lasted for two and a half days. When I came back to myself and saw the fear in my friends’ eyes, I had to confront the way I’d behaved since I was a teenager, and the damage I’d normalized.

I was shown thirteen scripts for how to survive the wilderness of adolescence through excess, and to a lonely teenage girl, it seemed like therapy rather than a cure. warning The movie was meant to be. I would do these things eventually, but the speed was no accident. It was as if I had the answer I was desperately searching for, and then I turned the corner and found it waiting for me. But I realized that what I was really running away from was myself, and the emptiness I felt inside. I thought I could hide inside the fun nights and quick highs, but eventually, I had to face myself.

I still want to matter, to feel important and alive, but now I find that in friendship, my work, and my creativity. “Thirteen,” which ends poignantly with Tracy spinning alone in a roundabout, didn’t just teach me how to escape from myself — it showed me the cost of doing so. unknown

In the UK, the charity Mind is available on 0300 123 3393 and Childline on 0800 1111.