I cry myself to sleep every night

This is going to be a long one.
I felt the first pangs of depression when I was in year nine. I went to a girl's school where the majority of the kids were Asian Muslim, me included. I had a close friend at the time who had a different friendship circle. They began circulating rumours that I was a lesbian. The person who I thought was my friend cut herself off from me abruptly and I was alone for two years.
In those two years, I had nobody. I was pretty much at the bottom of the feeding chain anyhow, always picked on beforehand for my awkwardness, general appearance and crippling loneliness. Though she and I somewhat reconciled at the end of year eleven, I hadn't truly forgiven her, and because of the grief I received from other students, I moved schools to attend a grammar school.
This was one of the biggest mistakes I made in my life thus far. I tried to reinvent myself and found a friendship group consisting of external girls. As if I weren't already socially inept, I suddenly had to deal with the opposite sex for the first time in five years, and my prior attendance to a girl's school had caught one of the popular boys' eye. He began with staring, something that made me deeply uncomfortable, but things escalated when he realised the teachers, frankly, didn't give a flying f*ck about me and began to double down. Other boys soon realised the same and soon, half the male population in my year began to make snide comments in class, laughing when I got an answer wrong or loudly announcing my grades when mini tests were conducted to humiliate me. At this time, I was averaging C's-U's in chemistry, C's in biology and C's in English. Other students caught on that being with me was becoming social suicide, so the internal girls began to join in with the giggling and pointing and my friendship group gradually drifted away when another girl joined and made her dislike of me very obvious. When none of them would speak up to defend me whenever she shut me down (partly because some of them liked a few of the boys who were bullying me) I caught on and left.
I made friends with another girl who was considered a social pariah within the school, but she was a very neurotic individual, and was part of the reason why my mental health deteriorated so rapidly. Whenever a boy made a comment about me, she would report it to me as soon as she could, or would tell me when she saw one of the boys staring.
Things got worse. I had a biology teacher who was one of the strangest men I'd ever met. He was one of those fifty-something year old blokes who still thought he was eighteen, joking around with the boys and attempting to engage in banter with the girls in the class. He also targeted me, and in front of the class, would call on me to answer a question constantly, and would sometimes ask deeply personal questions about my personal life in public such as my country of origin, my religion or where I lived. He frequently sat on my desk and would watch me work, then would slide off and do the same with the boys who sat behind me, only to remark "Well done, boys, you haven't been mean to X today". Once they were reminded, they'd laugh and jeer at me, then would make a sarcastic comment about being gentlemen and continue talking behind me in snide tones.
One of the worse memories I had of this school was when we did a charity dodgeball event, and the boys would systemically keep trying to throw the balls at my head. One succeeded- the boy who started bullying me first- and I ended up with an ice pack and a red mark on my temple, thankfully not enough to bruise.
Then, I tore my ligament in my ankle and things got worse. The boys would frequently jam the lift so that I was at least ten minutes late to my next class, and on the only occasion I told a teacher, I passed their office a few minutes later only to see them laughing with those same boys. I caught on quickly that internal students were more valued than external students in this school and never told a teacher again. Meanwhile, they ramped up their teasing- presumably because I 'snitched'. They made sarcastic suggestions to carry my bag for me whenever I needed to go to my next class, and a few times would charge behind me and pretend to kick my crutches from beneath me. A few of them who seemed to genuinely hate me had tried. The teacher who encouraged the boys to pick on me shouted at me whenever I was late, but would laugh with the boys whenever they were late and would constantly let them off.
One of them harassed me constantly in public. Nobody would bat an eyelash. He would interrupt the class during biology whenever I had a presentation to ask me why I wore such a sheer blouse (my family are very poor, so I wear hand me downs that had been washed so frequently that my shirt lost a bit of its opacity), and if I wanted people to see my bra. He started to call me a slut because of this, and the fact that I wore a skirt (which was knee length, many other girls wore their skirts far shorter- but that's not the point, slut shaming is awful). He told me I was a bimbo when I was early waiting for chemistry, and it was just us in the line. He asked me interrogatively if I liked him because rumours were invented everyday that I liked a certain student or teacher, and he happened to be the favourite that day, before making it clear I was an ugly airhead. He and several other boys made a habit of taking pictures of me in class or whenever I studied in my free lessons, and some would bend their heads exaggeratedly to stare at my legs whenever I wore my skirt, then would smirk at me whenever I caught them doing so.
Because of my status, I had nobody once more, aside from the girl who constantly fed me information about what boy had said what about me, or who hated me most. I ended up spending all my time in the library away from everybody else from February to May (year 12) and pulled my grades up (Chemistry: U --> A*, Biology: C/B --> A, English: C/B --> A). This resulted in an embittered attack on my intellect, with some saying I would never make it into medicine, or that I just made it lucky, or that I had done certain favours to teachers in order to achieve those grades. This was, of course, despite my biology teacher's constant under-grading of my mini tests and mocks which would always be pulled up whenever we went through the mark scheme the next lesson for a self assessment. He would frequently make condescending comments that I had cheated (which I don't blame him for due to my reputation for under performing), but this stopped very quickly when he found out my grades in other classes, and that I spent all my time in the library because I would always be talked about whenever I sat in the common room alone or with my friend.
Things came to a head when I had a biology trip. I skipped the first day we were scheduled to go, and came into school the next day when the other half were meant to go, believing I was in the clear. Instead, my biology teacher took me out of registration and told me he was pushing me in a wheelchair. I said no and argued against it, knowing this vulnerability would be the talk for weeks amongst the internal students, but he kept persisting until I eventually just limped away from him. He went after me, saying firmly that I had to go despite not paying for the trip nor giving in a parental consent form. He only left (and very quickly at that) when everything I bottled up exploded, and I burst into tears, shouting that I didn't want to go over and over again. I was left crying in the playground, which was the talk of the week anyway.
When I no longer needed my boot and crutches, another biology trip was scheduled, this time for a master class. I had my first panic attack inside the coach when he made me sit with the boy who slut shamed me when I arrived late, and started screaming because I couldn't breathe. Once we arrived at our destination, I was helped out because I felt light headed, and eventually collapsed. This happened again later, then the ambulance was called.
This happened repeatedly. Intense panic attacks within the school premises where I would scream myself hoarse because I couldn't breathe, and eventually fainting in exhaustion.
Anxiety was diagnosed. Schools were moved. Exam boards differed. A year was retaken.
The new school I attended was much closer than the hour-and-thirty minute commute to the grammar school. I had a new friendship group, a good one this time, and things were great. I had to go to therapy for a while, but things patched over, and I actually began forgetting names and faces and events from my last school, blocking my memories so I could continue on with life. A year and a half went swimmingly until the pandemic.
I have an offer, but I don't know if I can meet it. The last few months, I have literally (and I mean literally) stressed until my hair turned white, and the past few days, everything I forgot came flooding back. I remember everything with such vivid detail. I dream events that already took place. I wake up crying, and cry that night once more in dread of having to sleep again. I am terrified that I will not meet my offer, because studying medicine was the only thing I clung to in my entire adolescence throughout the bullying because of my grandma and now it's being ripped from beneath me because of the ranking system and the school I currently go to. I wish I could turn back the clock and stay in that girl's school I first attended, because I would never have had to repeat year twelve and I would have been in my first year by now. I wish I could forget everything again and pretend that hellish year never happened. I wish my mental health wasn't in such a state, because I would have been able to study for the autumn series as soon as I get my inevitably bad results, but I can't, because it's creating a block before results day has even arrived.