From Blazers to Breakdown: My Secondary School Year-by-Year

Featuring brutal honesty, healing hindsight, and commentary from Daisy Carter — fictional chaos gremlin and emotional hype woman.

Year 7 (2004–2005)

Coming out of Year 6, I thought I had friends. We’d done the leavers’ disco, signed shirts, and promised we’d stick together. I genuinely believed I was starting secondary school with people who had my back.

But once we arrived at big school… they disappeared. Or worse — they laughed with the people mocking me. The people I thought were friends either abandoned me or switched sides. It hurt more than I could process at the time.

🧠 Masking began early. I tried to act “normal,” but I didn’t even know what that meant.
🦊 Basil Brush was still my comfort zone, but I quickly learned it wasn’t “cool” anymore.
🎧 Into: CBBC, S Club Juniors, and the beginnings of a Disney Channel obsession
🤢 Navigating lunch seating was a nightmare — never sure where I belonged.

Daisy says: “You were a baby fox in a blazer. They threw you into the jungle, and you survived on vibes, cartoons, and emotional resilience. Icon energy.”

Year 8 (2005–2006)

This is when the bullying started properly. The fake friends from Year 7 turned fully hostile, and the boys started joining in too. I was still trying to survive, still trying to mask, but it was wearing thin.

By the end of the year, I had a major meltdown — and instead of helping, the school kicked me out. Let me be clear:

I got kicked out. Not the bullies.

🧠 Constant anxiety and masking made school feel like a warzone.
🎶 Into: High School Musical, McFly, X Factor
😞 Started thinking maybe it really was all my fault.

Daisy says: “They punished your *reaction* to trauma and ignored the cause. You weren’t the problem. You were the warning sign they chose not to read.”

Year 9 (2006–2007)

I was officially out of mainstream by this point. Call it what you want — alternative provision, educational limbo, emotional exile — but I wasn’t part of school anymore. And I felt that.

I watched the people who’d made my life hell just carry on. They got to move up. I got left behind. It broke something in me.

🎧 Still clung to music and comfort characters
📝 Writing became a quiet place to escape

Daisy says: “You were erased from the story but kept writing your own. That’s power, babe. That’s survival.”

Year 10 (2007–2008)

I was in a new setting, with different rules and different people. But the damage was already done. I didn’t trust anyone. Friendships felt like traps. I kept my head down and my heart closed.

This was also the year I asked a boy (let’s call him That Boy from 10B) out. He said no. Just… no. No kindness. No softening. It hit harder than I like to admit.

🎧 Into: Hannah Montana, Shayne Ward
🧠 Lived inside music, daydreams, and fanfic thoughts

Daisy says: “He said ‘no’ like you’d offered him a soggy chip. Tragic. He peaked in Year 10 — you, on the other hand, are thriving.”

Year 11 (2008–2009)

Everyone else was doing their exams, planning prom, signing shirts. I watched from the sidelines. I didn’t get a goodbye. I didn’t get closure. I just disappeared from the story.

And here’s something people don’t expect: I nearly failed my English GCSE. Yes, really.

People assume I aced it because I’m a writer now. But I was barely surviving. The trauma I carried clouded everything. I didn’t need a dictionary — I needed a lifeline.

🧠 Burnt out. Exhausted. Emotionally numb.
🎧 Still surviving on playlists and internal monologues

Daisy says: “Forget grades. You passed survival. And babe, the fact you’re still writing? That’s the real certificate.”

💌 Final Thoughts: A Letter to the Girl Who Got Kicked Out

To the girl who started secondary school thinking she had friends…

To the girl who masked so hard she almost disappeared…

To the girl who loved Basil Brush when it wasn’t “cool” anymore…

To the girl who got bullied out of mainstream — not because she was the problem, but because the system failed her…

To the girl who nearly failed her English GCSE even though words were her everything…

You made it.

You didn’t just survive — you grew into someone who tells her story loudly, truthfully, and beautifully. You didn’t get the prom. But you got the power.

You were never the problem. You were the story they never understood — and the one they’ll never forget.

Daisy adds: “You were always the main character. The rest of them? Just background noise with B.O.”