Day 177.

This is blog was brought to you by my good friend the hangover.

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Well, I say hangover. I don't think I'm sober yet.

This was a wake up call for me. After wandering in to my parents room last night, sleepwalking, I made the decision that alcohol was not my friend whatsoever. I had definitely gone too far. Again. The sleepwalking I couldn't do much about. That goes hand in hand with my sleep talking yet I knew the demon drink hadn't helped with it at all. I can't look my parents in the eye this morning.

It was a great night. Good people, good friends and family, all coming together for a surprise birthday party that had taken an entire day and shut pub to organise. She was delighted, as I hoped she would be. It was fun.

I realised a week ago that my drinking had become another problem to add to this long list of boo boos I keep making. I am relentlessly making a fool of myself and I can't seem to shake the idea of why. I'm pretty sure I know why but making that initial admittance was harder than it seemed.

My world seems very confused right now. Not only am I struggling with planning on what I should be doing, I am also torn between who I should be doing. Classy as ever you'll agree. 

I have a very good friend. He's amazing in every single way yet I can't help but wonder why I do it to myself. He makes me laugh, he's sweet and he doesn't take my crap yet I can't seem to go any further than that. I hit this brick wall that instantly says 'nope. You can't'. I have no valid reason not to go any further apart from this massive panic. A panic that isn't justified in any sense. I'm panicking that I'll lose the freedom I have craved for so long. I think that's the biggest giveaway that maybe, right now, I'm not ready.

Dating seems a bit of a minefield too. After seeing someone a couple of times, I thought, this was good. I thought I had overcome my fear of letting go and accepting the fact that someone would be right for me. I'd met the friends, we spoke daily, I was all good to go apart from that niggle, yet again. The insane thought that, perhaps, I wasn't ready. Surely I would be ready soon? This is longest I have ever been single since I first joined the ridiculous world of love and dating. Nearly 6 months and despite the offers I couldn't help but ask myself why not? Was I really that fearful of letting go that I'd never be able to?

It shouldn't be rushed, I know that. After jumping from relationship to relationship, it probably was the best plan that I just stop for a while. Although, as time goes on and I date even more, I worry what my cut off point is. How far can I go without really admitting how I feel? How far can we go before it's too far?

Friends with benefits isn't something I ever planned on having. For me, it proves too much of an effort. Even more so than being in a relationship. We have to hold ourselves back so we don't get too attached but not too far or the other person will think we aren't interested. All I know is that I can't do that to myself. I get far too caught up in the moment. I say things, do things that hint that I want more yet when it comes to it, I just can't commit. 

I dread being alone but at the same time, I dread being in another relationship that doesn't give me everything I want. I guess, there's no way of telling from the beginning and we have to go with how we feel but I'm too scared to even try.

Hannah xox

I'm sorry I threw 2 glasses of water over you but that was ridiculous.

Day 175.

I eat kiwis with the skin on. I worry constantly. I go through ballet pumps like there's no tomorrow. I hide away in my room. I often wonder what could of happened. My make up always smudges. I love Wallace and Gromit. I listen to my head too much. I'm scared of being alone. I love going to the zoo. I wish I was braver. I criticize myself all the time. I always thought I'd have achieved more by now. I love charity shops. I want to be successful. But I don't know in what. I prefer showers than baths. I am terrified of the dark. To the point of crying. I don't know why. I'm just me.

*

I've been looking back over the last few years. Mainly 2013. That was a strange one. A year of somewhat dramatic change.

This year begins with expectations, worries and motivation. It also begins with a hospital appointment. On the 15th I am lucky enough to go back in to hospital for more tests on my head. For those of you unaware of my situation, allow me to explain. 

Since the age of 10 I have suffered with what the doctors have assumed is a type of epilepsy. I was tested at a young age and they decided that these 'seizures' were a hormonal balance that would level out as I got older. Sadly, it hasn't. My 'seizures' have become a lot more frequent. Whilst driving, talking to friends, watching a film, taking a walk. They can happen at any time for any amount of reasons. I may not fall to the floor and 'fit' as you may assume, I actually zone out entirely. Like an out of body experience. My head feels tight, I tend to feel very sleepy and have been known to fall in to unconsciousness. It's scary, I can tell you that. I panic and get very upset especially when it is a big one. Some last seconds, others last hours. It all depends.

On the 15th, I am hoping that they finally give me more tests and confirm what is wrong with me. I worry constantly that I am going to fall ill again, I get nervous about going to new places in case I have an attack. It's eating away at my life and it's about time it all stopped. 

I'm worried about going. What if they tell me there's nothing they can do? What if they say there's nothing wrong with me? How can I keep living like this? I'm not scared of being diagnosed at all. In fact, I want a name for it. I want to be able to relax knowing that there is something and I can fix it. I'm scared of having nothing. 14 years I have suffered with this and it's been 14 years too long.

Other than worrying about my hospital appointment, I have been trying to sort my life out. I've been feeling distant from it all. I started uni with all the excitement and passion as I should have done but that has slowly disappeared. I don't know why but I'm just not enjoying it. I feel like I'm being left behind in classes. Everyone else seems to be interested in what they're being told but all I do is disappear inside my head, wondering what to write about, making up little poems and being completely distracted. I look at the work we are given and sigh, knowing that ultimately I am writing about something that no longer interests me. I must keep going though. I can't back out now. I don't want to. I guess I just need to find what lead me to it in the first place.

2013 was a bizarre year if truth be told. I began the year blogging and promoting sex toys, I became a carer again and then I became a barmaid. I recently received a message from some random man on the dating site. (Not that I've paid any interest in it lately). His comment to me was something of 'You're 24 and only work in a bar. Wow what a waste of life. Definitely not interested.' It was quite funny really considering his job is a chess teacher. He's really making a difference in the word. I thought it was strange. Why would you bother sending that to someone in the first place? I apologise my lifestyle doesn't please you, however, why should I? Sadly, I engaged in conversation with this moron purely out of frustration. He said that I was judging him for his occupation (despite him being the one that did so to me) and that I am stuck up because I told him I thought he was a prat. I felt justified in my opinion.

My single status has remained in tact and for now, I still have no enthusiasm for that to change. Although...

A friend of mine was speaking to me last night as I was having one of my 'moments'. The times where I flail around moaning about what I am and am not doing with my life. He told me there were 3 things we need to be happy. 1)Social happiness (including love life) 2)Working happiness 3)Financial happiness.

I thought over each of these, wondering which was the one I was most unhappy with. Sadly, none of them sprung to mind. I am happy with my job. Simple. My finances are fine. I don't need a lot of money, I work and get a student loan so, for now, that's fine. Socially? I don't feel to hard done by. My closest friends may live far away but that doesn't stop me from speaking to them. I have friends I go out with and speak to frequently. Yet I don't have a man. Is this what's missing from my life? Realistically, no. I don't feel that a partner is going to complete me. If anything, and from experience, they hold me back. I didn't go to uni to study drama because of one ex and look at me now. Granted, it wasn't entirely his fault. I should have been strong enough to say 'this is what I want, I'm going.' I didn't. I will live with that regret forever. 

Out of all of them I suppose the social happiness will be the easiest one to tackle first. I have ideas in the pipeline that, I hope, will set me on another more exciting path but, for now, I think I'm okay. I just need to know what my purpose is. Why am I here? What can I do for people?

One of life's questions that may remain unanswered. I'm going to give finding it out a good go though.

Hannah xox

Day 173.

Everything was renewed. It was all another fresh start for everyone. Another year, another month, another day. We count down the minutes until the new year comes. We count down the days until Christmas. We count down the weeks until our holidays. We count down the months until our birthdays. 

All we are ever doing is counting down.

*

New Years Eve was wonderful. I was surrounded by wonderful people. Just wonderful. It was simple but it was perfection. I wanted everyone close to me. I wanted those I care about to be near by and all, apart from my family and a select few others, were.

For the first time in my life I did something brave. Not heroic in any sense but, for me, brave. I went to the cinema alone. I have never done it before and, although, it may seem like a strange thing to be pleased about, I am ever so proud of myself. Being someone who is of a nervous disposition, awkward, shy at times, it was a challenge for me. I have only just managed to walk in to a bar on my own rather than panicking that no one was there. I sat, alone, and had one of the greatest times. Not only was a watching a rather beautiful film, I was also alone. All by myself (there's a song there somewhere). I had plucked up enough courage to walk in, buy a ticket and sit alone amongst groups of teenagers and couples. I thought I'd feel uncomfortable, as though people were watching me. 'Look at her, the poor thing. Maybe she's been stood up.' I didn't feel the glare of people's eyes. I didn't feel judged by the girl at the till. I was perfectly content being alone. 

The film, I must say, was marvelous and you should definitely see it. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. As I described to a friend, it was funny, beautiful and captivating. I knew it was the kind of thing I needed to see. It was my kind of film. As much as I enjoy my kids films, my comedies, I really am a plain, old, 'give me inspiration film bitch' kind of girl. I like the films that leave me with something to aim for. Something to be passionate about. Reawaken something inside me that dwindles now and then. This was the perfect film for the new year. It was my first 2014 wake up call.

Ultimately, it's about how a man started living rather than going along with his life as it was. He knew he needed to do something and now he had a reason to. It made me think, as most things do. My brain is a sponge for inspiration. I find inspiration in most elements of life. I like it that way. It made me think about my life. It made me worry that I could be like him (assuming the sex change goes well). It made me worry that I could be like him and end up alone, in a job without having actually lived. It's time for me to change my future again.

University was the beginning and now I need to continue it. I need to keep playing out all the different scenarios, work out what it is I actually want. I did have some form of epiphany the other day but perhaps not worth mentioning here if I'm honest. It is something for me to mull over, however. There were a few things I decided. I worked out. Finally.

I need to live. I need to live more. The rut is becomingly increasingly harder to get out of and I need to make changes and decisions that, although I will be scared, will improve my life beyond my wildest dreams. I've seen others do it and now it's my turn. I am getting too old for this crap. I need to make my life now.

I hope with the new year you are inspired. Inspired to change, inspired to grow, to love, to look, to listen. Inspired to live. I certainly am.

What I have discovered this year so far:

• I don't appreciate my toast being buttered for me,
• I want to work harder on my blog,
• I need to live more,
• I need to love more,
• I need to stop being afraid.

Hannah xox

Day 172.

It had finally arrived.

*

After what has felt like a week of emotional drain after Christmas, New Years Eve has finally arrived. It's the same thing each year.

I wanted to end the year, with my blog, on a high note. I wanted to remember how much I have achieved in those 12 little months. 

I began my year in a new job. Writing every day. It was good, while it lasted. Leaving it wasn't too difficult. I blogged every day about sex, toys and products we were selling even though I didn't believe in any of them. I moved on to care work. An average job, an average company. I wasn't blown away particularly by any of it apart from a few clients. I became single at the end of July. 5 months later and I am in the happiest situation I could be. 5 months later and I am back to feeling properly like me again. No worries, no stress, no disruptions. I directed a pantomime. I made new friends. I started university. I made a plan for my future.

This year has been good to me. Of course, there are parts I'd change but overall each moment has taught me something different. I've seen a lot of people complaining about how this last year has been shit for them. Rather than moaning about it all why don't you spare a thought for all of those who have sod all year in, year out. You may have broken up with someone, lost a job or broken a nail but in whatever way you should be grateful for every day you have on this planet. I certainly am.

I've been blessed this year with new friends. Really good friends. I have also lost a lot too. Finally. There are some people in this life that I have known and lost who I haven't been fussed about losing. It's not a shame that they've gone, it's a blessing.

There will be no 'new year, new me'. All I've seen is people complaining about that phrase but I still haven't seen one of those statuses so far. There's nothing wrong with a bit of aspiration and there's nothing wrong with wanting to improve on yourself. I don't intend on starting the new year with a new me. I haven't been so happy with my life in a very long time. I don't want to change whatsoever.

I hope this new year brings you all happiness, health and harmony. I cannot thank each of you enough for going along with my ramblings over these last few months. This blog has most definitely saved me. It has been the place I can come to to release pent up emotions and frustrations without fear of being judged.

Thank you all.

Happy New Year!

Hannah xox

Day 167.1.

Note to self:
Buy a notebook for all your random thoughts. Not a diary. Just sheets of paper where you can scrawl all those feelings you hide from your blog. It'll do you good Hannah. It really will.

Day 167.

Oh, well I wish it could be Christmas everyday.

*

Well, that flew by again. Christmas has been and gone. That one day a year where we all try and play happy families, exchange gifts and eat more than is humanly possible. It's all over with. I love Christmas. I love going to church on Christmas Eve, sing my heart out so people turn round to listen and watch, going home, mince pies, drinks, presents under the tree. It's all so magical. Perhaps, not in the same way as when I was a child but still, magical. 

I am currently fighting against my end of year mentality that seems to sweep me up in the last week of every year. I have that sudden urge to transform myself. Like everyone, I worry about whether I should have a new year's resolution, should I change everything about myself? Yet, it irritates me that people must wait until the beginning of a year to change something about themselves. It shouldn't matter what day, time, year. You should be able to change whenever. I've been like this for years though. I like to have the date written down, so when I look back I can see how old I was and what I was doing. It's my history. It's my legacy. I want to be able to look back and go 'That was twenty years ago, where did the time go?' I feel great importance at this time of year. I feel as though ties should be cut, changes should be thought through and life decisions should be made. I feel as though waking up on New Years Day, hangover or not, is the chance for me to breathe new life in to my world. A fresh start, with nothing tainting the year before it's begun. 

I get very emotional around New Years Eve. I reminisce and become hyper critical. I look at all of my failings and wrong doings and resign myself to being an awful person. I then have some form of arse kicking and I suddenly become overly motivated. Frustrated that I can't really put my plan in to action right away. I must wait. I must wait for the right time. There isn't a right time though. I know that yet my past life Hannah comes back to haunt me and I find myself obsessing over date and time.

Another trait I have is trying to make sure that there are elements in place that I will remember in time. For example, the last song I hear on New Year's Eve will become a huge factor for me. Of course, I will forget what it was but just for that brief time, I must remember it. Hold on to it as though it actually makes some kind of difference to me. I must remember the last thing I say as the clock chimes. I must remember who I am with, how I am feeling, what I am wearing. I must remember it all, as though it will impact my life if I don't. Everything has to be just so. I have to be in a way that as the clock strikes 12, I am reborn.

It's difficult to explain why I hold so much emphasis on these traditions, shall we say. I just remember growing up desperate to have times, dates, events all stored up in my brain which, ultimately doesn't seem to retain much. I used to write in my diary every year, mainly crying, hellbent on changing myself. I held such importance on being a different person I think it's just remained with me ever since. I think by remembering minor details within the change of one year to another, I'd be able to look back and see how much better I am now. It's not so. It doesn't work like that.

No doubt I will blog again before the new year. After all, I must have something written down, in order for me to remember. To remember the list of samey resolutions, the list of unachievable changes. Time, date, age, name.

A new year is so important to me. I'm just scared of messing up again.

Hannah xox

Day 161.

Her mind was all over the place. She couldn't quite decide what she wanted anymore. She knew, sort of, but it wasn't the great revelation that she was expecting. She couldn't quite pin point the exact moment that she had realised. It hadn't come. Not properly anyway. She was just drifting.

*

"Apparently I hate men. Why do I love men? Deleted from everything because I had a night out with another friend. Petty? Relationship status? Good fucks? Oral sex?"

"I am a plain girl. Everyone else seems more beautiful. Me not so much."

"Womb raider."

These are a few of the notes that I have written on my phone. I do this so I can refer back to them at a later point. They are my ideas for possible blogs. My thoughts as I go through the day. The times where I am drunk and need to write what's in my head, down and quickly. They don't make a lot of sense most of the time.

I am currently sat on my bed, looking like shit whilst wearing my reindeer onesie. I look ridiculous. I look appalling. I look dead. Everyday I look in that stupid mirror which glares at me from the opposite side of the room. Taunting me. Bastard thing. It knows that every time I look up in to it I'll be scruffy. Make up smudged, hair all over the place, beer belly growing nicely. It's cruel. Everyday it makes me realise how old I look now. Everyday it mocks me. Everyday it reminds me that I am merely a plain girl.

When I say plain girl I merely mean how little effort I put in. Some people get away with it perfectly. There are some people on this Earth who look phenomenal without any effort involved. I am not one of them. Then, there are some people who religiously apply their make up, making themselves look like this airbrushed piece of perfection. I am not one of those either. Some days I think to myself 'right today is the day you check your make up is okay more often. You sort your hair out and you don't get embarrassed by putting more make up on so your face doesn't look like something out of a horror film.' Those thoughts tend to only last briefly. I go out with all good intentions and then realise I can't be bothered. I get embarrassed doing it. I am no expert on make up application and feel like an absolute tool when other people are watching me do it. They all have the right brushes, the right colours, the tricks on how to put eyeliner on. I just grab and go. Hair is another thing I haven't mastered. I can be curling my hair first thing in the morning, feeling good. I look fairly good. Outside I go, in to the elements that seem hellbent on ruining anything I have achieved and boom. I now look like a member of the Jackson 5. Good times. 

I think I am plain because I am not astoundingly beautiful nor am I, or I hope, repulsively ugly. I am a middle of the road kind of girl and in some ways it's a pain. I suppose it depends on your idea of beauty. However, I am not beautiful. Not to say I don't particularly like who I am. I just can't be bothered to put false eyelashes on, check my face every five minutes and attend to any form of beauty regime. 

My friends are like me. Apart from they're good looking. They don't seem to fuss about the way they look, they're just naturally beautiful. Myself and one of my good friends are blessed with what appears to be afro hair of sorts. In any type of water our hair explodes in to this fabulous bush-dragged-through-hedge-Jackson-esque 'do' that leaves us looking stunning. For this, I thought, it would be a good idea to try to remedy it. To make light of our sad situation. With it being Christmas, I bought her a gift. She now is the proud owner of an afro comb.

I have been told I'm good looking by many people. That's not me being big headed in any sense, that is by exes, friends, potential menfolk and my mother. I appreciate their sentiment but it doesn't really wash with me. I know, when all is said and done, that I am not aesthetically beautiful. I am plain. I am me. I am okay with that.

There is nothing wrong with being a plain girl. We are lucky in some respects. We won't get badgered by every bloke in a nightclub but we have that secret element that is only ever shown to people we may like. We have those mischievous eyes, that coy smile, the confident walk. We are able to allure whoever we wish to with just one striking feature. That is the joy of being a plain girl. I imagine all the beautiful girls have to put in a lot of effort to remain beautiful. They must look beautiful all the time through fear of someone seeing them looking not so beautiful. We plain girls have the luck of being okay with being okay. 

Perhaps I shouldn't be so hard on myself. Maybe I am over analysing something that needn't be thought about. Maybe me and my confusing notes should hush for a little while. 

Hannah xox