Stay Wild; Notes from a Self Aware Teen

By David Beattie

“Some people hate me, some people would prefer it if I didn’t exist. Incidentally, I feel the same way about them.”

“I’m a young person managing my own life, my transition and everything else that I have on my plate. It would be more strange if I didn’t feel overwhelmed from time to time.”

Teenage model and writer David Beattie is not afraidto share his experiences of the world. In thisinstalment of personal essays, he discussesbattling mental illness, going throughhormonal changes, socialising as a gendernon-conforming individual and even what it’s like todo a naked photo shoot with body dysmorphia.

His wit, motivation and relentless positivityin the face of multiplechallenges are amazingly inspirational. You can’t help but laugh, cry, scream and sigh alongwith him as he reflects on many different triumphs and obstacles. His world is an incrediblyinteresting one and this glimpse he allowsof it is both enlightening and enjoyable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9780244314804

David Beattie

DAVID BEATTIE is a well-known property expert in South Africa. He is the founder and director of Chorus Letting, a leading residential property rental agency managing 2000 properties across Cape Town and Johannesburg. More recently, David has turned his attention to the growing market of private landlords. He is also the founder of PocketLet, a tool for private landlords to effectively manage their own properties.

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Stay Wild; Notes from a Self Aware Teen

Stay Wild

Notes From a Self-Aware Teen.

Laylah Talks: Season 2

David Beattie

LaylahTalks.com

Facebook:LaylahTalks

Twitter:laybeattie

Instagram:laybeattie

Snapchat: davidbeatteee

[e-mail]

I get so wrapped up in a world where nothing's as it seems,

And real life is stranger than my dreams.

-Lana Del Rey.

David Beattie is currently living in an apartment in Dublin with three close friends. He has an intense love for writing but he also attends events, runs a website, pursues a journalism degree, manages his gender transition, produces YouTube videos, meets up with his friends and participates in any other opportunities for fun that come his way.  

Copyright © 2017 by David Beattie.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Edition.

First Printing, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-244-31480-4

Add me on Snapchat to follow my adventures.

Introduction.

Hello, it's me. David Beattie. I've been up to a lot since the last time you properly heard from me. Let's catch up.

I have now written two books and a booklet and I can call myself a writer without feeling like a fraud. However, the things that I expected to happen when I wrote books haven't happened. These were:

1. Spending my days sitting in a coffee shop with an expensive laptop. Sitting for hours gazing into the distance, typing furiously and sipping expressos while numerous people fall in love with me. Instead I usually write in my pyjamas with a pot of pasta beside me as wet hair drips onto my battered laptop.

2. Receiving an email from my favourite singer Lana Del Rey. She tells me that she's read my books and wants to fly me to LA to live with her. I tell her that I can only live with her for half of the year because I am so busy.

3. Losing all of my friends because I kept writing about their lives and moving to a cabin in the woods to creatively write books far away from civilisation.

4. Being honoured by the government with numerous medals etc. Michael D still doesn't reply to my tweets. Enda Kenny knows that I hate him.

5. Having people stop me on the streets so I can sign their copies of my books which they carry with them at all times because they constantly reread them.

6. Dramatically lying on my kitchen floor with a bottle of wine and a tub of ice cream because I don't believe in my talent. Unfortunately, I continue to believe in myself and be proud of my achievements. Hopefully I get there some day.

Never again will I take such a long break from running this blog. Technically it wasn't a break but I missed writing while I worked on my podcast.

I am now telling my story in a few different formats: my books, my blog and now YouTube videos. After resisting the urge to regularly upload YouTube videos for so long, I finally gave in and started a working channel. Yet another way for me to bore you.

I had my first TV appearance on Vogue Williams on the Edge, which I immensely enjoyed filming and later watching. That was a crazy experience to top the most productive Summer of my life.

There's lots more to come. I'm so enjoying myself and so grateful that my work really seems to be growing into new exciting things.

Thank you so much for everything.

It's so good to be back.

David Beattie.

22-11-16.

About This Book.

One thing that I’m definitely learning (please note the use of the present tense) with great difficulty is how necessary it can be to make sacrifices. Throughout the course of writing these essays I’ve experienced many health difficulties, both physical and mental, relating to my hormones.

Now that LaylahTalks has taken off a bit more, I feel that bit more pressure to be okay. I feel the need to end every essay about harassment that I’ve experienced or mental problems that I’ve been suffering from with a positive message. And don’t get me wrong, putting a positive spin on things comes very naturally to me and I can definitely see the light in the midst of trepidation, but I’m going through a hard time and I don’t want to sugar coat that.

As I write this, I spent last night in a hospital emergency department due to a very serious mental breakdown. I’m fine now and I was assured that it was due to the side effects of my medications, but it was definitely quite a scary experience.

But while I was there I couldn’t help but feel almost hypocritical. I know that’s a ridiculous thing to say but I kept wondering whether my mental illness was serious enough for me to be in the hospital. I kept wondering whether my family resented the fact that they had to stay with me until four in the morning before dropping me back to my apartment and driving the hour and a half journey home to get up for work in the morning.

And I also thought about all of you, my readers. I thought about how I talk so often about mental health and self-care and here I was feeling guilt about my own mental illness, as if that’s anything to feel guilty for. Do you ever think about how guilt around mental illness is a completely man-made thing? If we lived in a society where there was no stigma around mental health issues would that guilt even be there?

I suppose what I’m saying is that I don’t have any of the answers and I’d hate you to think that I do. I believe that when it comes to our mental health, we are constantly learning and I do only share what I learn from my personal experiences, nothing less and nothing more.

It’s funny because I had my first mental breakdown at fourteen and I was very lucky to be given the tools to deal with it at a very young age. But it’s one thing knowing these things and another putting them into action.

Throughout the past few weeks there’s been a storm brewing in the back of my head and rather than take the time to deal with it, I kept prioritising everything else. I told myself it would resolve itself. I told myself to throw myself into anything I could to keep distracted. I told myself I had books to write and people to see and work to do. But that’s not how life works, you can’t compartmentalise your mental health any more than you can with your physical health.

The last time I worked through depression I did it so well. I had my heart broken and I looked after myself extremely tenderly until I was back on my feet. As it happens, when I first began writing my first book was when I think I finally escaped the clouds of depression. The period of time since writing that book has been the busiest, craziest, most enjoyable of my life and I think that’s what made me so reluctant to admit that I was suffering again.

I had worked myself to such an amazing point that I was scared to admit that it had now become overwhelming for me. I took one month off from work, which felt really good, but I expected it to be a magic fix and obviously, it wasn’t.

To recover from these feelings of being overwhelmed I know I have to begin sacrificing, something that I’ve never been good at doing. I have to shorten my to-do lists and skip out on certain plans and take days where all I do is lie in bed and eat. This should be easy, but my stubborn side has trouble putting that into action.

Stay Wild has now come to an end and it’s my promise to you that that next time you hear from me, I’ll have made the necessary sacrifices to be back on my feet. I’m not promising that I will be back on my feet as I have no idea how long that will take, but I vow to take care of myself in the way that only I know how.

I often talk about how I come from a family of very strong, impressive women. I also often draw inspiration from them. But one common thing in my family that I see is a reluctance to prioritise their mental health and it disturbs me to see that trait in myself. Because there is a lot more to life than being productive at the expense of your mind.

I feel as though it’s a weird climate to be a creative person in, particularly a writer. It can feel odd to sit here typing about myself and my personal issues when I feel as though there’s so much more to talk about.

But then I remind myself that no one’s being forced to read what I write (I hope). I remind myself that anyone who’s reading these words is choosing to do so and that must mean that I’m doing something right.

In these extremely trying times, I feel the only thing an artist can do is make art for people to immerse themselves in. God knows I’ve spent the last few months doing little more than immersing myself in albums and TV shows and movies and nature and YouTube videos and blog posts and pretty photography and most of all, in books.

It can be incredibly relieving to be given access to a chunk of somebody else’s world when your own is somewhat scary. So here is Stay Wild, a chunk of my world to immerse yourself in. I hope I can provide you with solace or inspiration or laughter or satisfaction or whatever else it may be that you are turning these pages for.

We’ll get through it.

I have every faith in us.

As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart,

David Beattie.

An Open Letter to My Feet.

Hello you two. How are you? Tired? You certainly have reason to be. Right now we're on a bus and I have you up on a seat (which is so not classy) but I can feel you quivering with nervous anticipation because we have to run to an appointment and we're late. You don't ever really get to relax. And I'm sorry for that.

In 2016 I wanted to be as busy as possible. And I've certainly succeeded. But I'm afraid that has been to your detriment. It's not that we ever had that much relaxation time before, but this year we have been constantly running to appointments, college, events and all the other stuff we do. I also have a habit of getting drunk and going out dancing which I don't think you particularly enjoy.

Sometimes I think about that time that I fell in love with that pair of boots with the slight heel, even though they were miles too small for me. You and I spent many an evening squishing you into them and making you walk around with them on. And then when I was finally able to wear them out, I ended up having the busiest day and running around way more than I thought I would. And then on top of all that, I agreed to go on a spontaneous night out with some of my friends, at which point you gave up and I had to walk around in my bare feet.

You must really fucking hate me. In fact, I know you hate me because of all the pain you put me through. You're in a horrible condition that no ped-egg could cure. I have to hide you from civilisation in the fear that an angry mob will come to my door looking to burn you at the stake.

I'm sorry that I put you through so much, although I doubt you forgive me. Unfortunately, we're approaching a new year and I don't plan on stopping anytime soon. I'm afraid you'll be put through the ringer again and again. The only comfort I can offer you is that when I'm rich, I plan to treat you to plenty of pedicures and douse you in expensive foot creams.

I hope we can be friends someday, rather than cautious acquaintances. I hope that you someday find solace and are put to rest in a nice spa resort (but that's partly because I'm attached to you). Most of all, I hope that someday you won't look like, well I'm not actually going to describe your current state for fear that my readers will report this post. You're not ugly, you've just been destroyed.

Best wishes,

David Beattie.

Three weeks in the Life.

From the 12th of September until the 2nd of October I had what were probably three of the busiest weeks of my life. Because I've never been one to suffer in silence, I decided to document it and share it with all of you. During this period my Grandmother was very sick so I had to travel in and out of the hospital amongst many other things. I completely recognise that this was my personal choice and I in no way wish to make out that this was a burden for me. But acting like it wasn't difficult would be a lie. My life isn't usually this busy, but I'm proud of how I handled myself throughout this time.

Week 1

Monday. Today is my first day back to college. I'm slightly hungover from drinks that I had the night before. I get the bus in with my roommates who are all in the same course as me. I have four lectures from 11 until 6. During our one hour break I go for lunch with my friends, some of whom I haven't seen all Summer. I really enjoy catching up with them before I head back to college. When I'm finished college for the day, I get the bus out to the hospital. It's about a twenty-minute journey. I sit with my Gran for a couple of hours, telling her about my day and helping her with anything that she needs. I leave in the evening. I get a bus that drops me off a ten-minute walk away from my apartment. I collect the post from the pub that I live above and I go upstairs. It's then that I realise that my keys are sitting on my desk inside the locked apartment. None of my roommates are home. I ring Aoife and she tells me that she's at the shops. I don't bother telling them that I'm locked out and instead make myself comfortable on the floor. In my post there are two proofs of my new book Just Saying and a novel that I've been dying to read. I read some of the novel and flick through the proofs looking for mistakes. It's freezing in the corridor and I'm counting the seconds until my roommates get back. One good-looking boy from my building comes into the hall and sees me sitting surrounded by stuff. I'm wearing