Day 203.

It's been a while.

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Hello there guys and girls. Apologies for my lack of blogging. It's most certainly been a while. Longer than I intended anyway.

I will soon be starting a new direction to my blogging. I feel inspired to discuss my epilepsy more. Really give people an insight in to what I suffer with and how I live with it. However, there are more pressing issues at hand.

Sadly, on Tuesday evening I was text by my best friend, whilst I was in London, that his dad had been diagnosed with Leukaemia. A couple of hours after that I received a phone call and was told that sadly he had passed away. Within a few hours a family's life had gone from total shock to utter devastation. Reg was my 'father in law' without the marriage for around 3 years. I had gotten to know him well and I loved him like a second dad. The shock was beyond anything I can describe. It was so unexpected that I didn't even know where to start when working out what had happened. My best friend in the whole world had lost his dad. Had lost the man he turned to for advice and lost the man who helped shape him in to who he was today. Speaking to him on the phone was the most horrific call I'd had to take. I broke down immediately and it felt like I had been punched in the stomach. It is something I never want to feel again. After my initial shock and managing to calm myself down to avoid a fit, I realised that my friend needed me. My friend who had lost his dad was now on his own and I needed to be with him. I got back to him as soon as I could and here I am now. Still at his, ready to be there for him whenever he needs me.

On Sunday we travel to Spain for the funeral which is happening in the week. It has been a blur this last week as everything has been arranged. After my friend went to see his brothers in Norfolk I have stayed at his, done his washing, done his housework. Just so it's one less thing for him to worry about. I can't do much for him but what I can do is be there. That is my only intention. 

A brief blog yet one just for you to know why I haven't posted for a little while.

Rest in peace Reg. You'll be dearly missed.

Hannah xox

Day 192.

Some times things take you by surprise and you realise how amazing people are.

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On posting my piece re my epilepsy diagnosis I have been inundated with support from so many different people.

To start, a few thank yous to some truly amazing people. 

Firstly, one of my best friends, Nick. Not only has he spent years putting up with my episodes, he's also been a massive comfort to me when times have been difficult. For that, I'd like to thank him for everything. He was also the first person to share my blog with his friends and from there it sparked a massive chain of events. 

Heidi. My best friend. After only knowing her a few months I know she is a friend I will never be losing. Not only is she a beaut but she was also there for me at my appointment and has stood by me throughout the time I've known her. Love her to pieces.

Michelle. A lovely lady I have met a few years ago and who recently contacted me after reading my blog. A fellow sufferer she knows her stuff and has been on hand to offer advice and answer any questions I've had.

Team Epilepsy. What absolute legends. After messaging them asking if they would be willing to share my post in hope of helping others they did! Thank you to them for being a great resource and such a supportive team!

Leon Legge. A Gillingham FC defender who was kind enough to repost and share my blog on Twitter to all his followers. He was also kind enough to speak to me about his experience with it. Very grateful to him.

There have been lots of other people who have been amazing but the above have been the most prominent of all. Thank you to everyone for everything.

Since I was diagnosed I realised how much stronger my support network had become. The people I loved came out in force and showed me how amazing they really are. We all knew there was something not quite right with me but finally the relief from all has been incredible. The relief that we all know what it is and how we can overcome it.

I must admit, the 2 days after my diagnosis were tough. Harder than I ever thought they would be. I was very low. I couldn't comprehend my life sentence because that's what it felt like. Now the initial shock has subsided, I am seeing life how it should be and I am very optimistic for the future.

Positive changes are ahead and I am so grateful to know I have some awesome people around me.

Thank you to everyone who has been there for me and continues to be. You are all magnificent.

Hannah xox

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Day 187.

I'd like to share something with you. Something for you all to read. Something to maybe inspire, encourage or educate you. Something for someone, somewhere.

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Today was the kind of day where you are overwhelmed with relief but, at the same time, shattered by an almost life changing realisation. Today I was given news of which I'd known for years but not been 100% sure of. Today I found out what was about to catapult my world in to a new dimension.

It was time for my hospital appointment. I've never been one for the doctors or hospitals. Of course, I admire the incredible work they do and will forever be grateful to every person who, in this sector, has helped me throughout my life. I don't particularly like going to see these people because usually they bring with them not so great news. My appointment today was one I had been waiting for my whole adult life. At 11 years old I went through this and at 24 it's all to happen again.

I can remember the first time it happened to me. I was standing in the kitchen talking to my mum and suddenly it hit. This huge wave of numbness. I felt as though I was out of my body looking in at the situation that played out. I felt out of control. I couldn't feel my hands, my head was hazy and no matter how much I held on to my head, it didn't stop. A few minutes later and this sensation had disappeared to nowhere. I felt tired, heavy, panicky. I asked my mum what was wrong with me. She didn't understand what I was trying to explain. I couldn't explain it. I didn't have the words to fully explain to someone what it was like. I still don't. 

After being taken to the doctors I was referred to a neurologist where I was then taken away for an EEG. At such a young age it was a scary procedure. A nervous, shy young girl connected to machines, wires falling lazily from her head whilst flashing lights irritated her eyes. It didn't make me have an 'episode' though and it worried me. What if they couldn't find out what was wrong with me? What if I was just abnormal? The test results came back and they were certain I had epilepsy. That scary word no one particularly ever wants to hear. That horrible, terrifying realisation that something is wrong. In your head. No one wants that.

13 years later and I pluck the courage up to return to my doctor to finally put an end to years of what I'd describe as suffering. Hand on heart my 'episodes' can be some of the scariest moments I've ever experienced. 

I went to see a neurologist today who's overly laid back and almost accusing nature took me by surprise. I expected him to be friendlier, less aggressive, less blunt. I sat down and he merely said 'so what's wrong with you?' In my head I was screaming 'WELL THAT'S FOR YOU TO TELL ME ISN'T IT?!' The panic set in and I knew, as I got hotter and hotter, that an 'episode' was on it's way. I covered it up well. That had become a common practice for me nowadays. I blag my way through them. Not well mind. I tried as hard as I could to explain what happened. I was struggling as much as I had done when I was 11. The words were still muddled. Just pointless words falling from my lips without being completely coherent. I panicked more and more. He told me it was stress. He said I must be having a really stressful time to which I replied 'maybe now and again but not solidly for 13 years.' He understood me from then. I found the word he was desperate to hear. Vacant. With a click of his fingers he looked at me and nodded. That was what he wanted. From there he told me that I did, indeed have epilepsy. Temporal Lobe Epilepsy to be precise. (After a mass text to friend's and family my iPhone corrected it to Temporal Love Epilepsy and I quite like it). Just click the link if you want to know more about it.

On leaving the consultation room I was on cloud 9. He'd asked if I wanted to have tests to which I agreed quickly. As much as they scared me, I wanted full, complete, concrete evidence that this was the condition I was going to be battling for years to come. He had diagnosed me within 5 minutes and was more concerned with why I wasn't aware that I have been noted as a sufferer of epilepsy for so long. It was always explained to me as something I would grow out of, something hormonal. Little did I know. So for all these years I have described my condition as 'like Epilepsy', I can now be bold and say 'I suffer with Epilepsy'. 

From leaving the room I could no longer drive, I could no longer be home alone and doing simple tasks such as having a shower or cooking. I had to be with someone all the time for tasks that once seemed so simple. The main reason for this is, because with this type of epilepsy, I could have full on seizures (Grand Mal)at any time which could result in me drowning if I fall unconscious in the shower. It's really scary.

I want to be fully honest with you all about this because it is something that has been part of me for over half of my existence on this beautiful planet.

My cloud 9 moment only lasted until I got home. I was back in my 'space', my things scattered on the floor of my bedroom, my letters strewn over the bed where I had been hunting for my appointment slip earlier in the day. Everything was as it was when I'd left but in some ways everything had changed. From leaving my house to returning I had become, almost, a different person.

I have been promoting the positive mind set for some time now and this 'revelation' had come as a shock (despite me knowing, in some way, already). Back in my room, I sat. I tried to watch vlogs of my favourite beauty/fashion bloggers, I tried to read, I flicked through my fashion magazines. Nothing was shaking the dread in the pit of my stomach. For some reason I was worried people would treat me differently. I was scared I'd be labelled. 'Hannah who can't keep her head together'. 

For those of you who don't know me well my memory is usually something of amusement. My terrible memory has gotten me in trouble before but it's never been something I could do anything about. At least now I know it's part of my symptoms, it's all joined in, along with my constant tiredness. Everything had fallen in to place yet I was still scared.

The fear was irrational really. Nothing dramatic had happened. I have been living with this for so long and now I finally had a name. The name I had been waiting for. Praying for. Hoping for. Now it had a name it scared me more. Usually it's the things that aren't familiar that scare us more. Now I was staring at it straight in the eye. I knew it's name. 

I am still trying to be positive. Not only was my car on it's last legs anyway, I also loved getting the train. Now I won't have to pay tax, insurance or for petrol, I will have more money for shoes. And lots of them.

If you or someone you know has anything similar and you'd like to know more about my condition, my symptoms or anything related to this blog please feel free to contact me. Your comments are always loved and welcomed on my blog or you can find me on Twitter and we can have a chinwag.

Today has re-enforced my determination to get the most out of life though. This condition will not be my defining feature. I will not let it take over my life in the same way I haven't let it for these last 13 years. I may be afraid, I may be worrying but ultimately I have something to offer this world and I'm sure as hell going to give it.

Hannah xox

To everyone who knows me personally, I'd really appreciate it if you could pay attention to what I next write. By knowing some of this you may be able to help me if I have an 'episode' in your company.

If I do have an 'episode' when I am with you I really urge you not to panic. Please don't flap around worrying about calling an ambulance. I will be fine. If my 'episode' lasts hours then perhaps think about getting me help but if I seem to slip away, having you panicking around me is only going to make it last longer. I tend to either hold my head or put my hand to my head as it either starts or comes to an end. I zone out. Become unresponsive and appear dazed. I slip off in to my own little world where everything that is real becomes hard to believe. All I ask of you is to please be calm, keep talking to me and remember that I know what is best for me. Generally if I speak when I am feeling unwell it is a load of rubbish. Gobbledegook. Jibberish. So don't take offense. I appreciate everyone that has put up with me when I've been having an 'episode' in the past. You have all been amazing, I just hope I can still count on you now to ensure I don't end up in any serious trouble or in a terrible situation. All I ask is that you keep an eye on me.

Day 185.

Ultimately it's about being yourself but there is a little part of all of us that wants to be like someone else.

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Feelings seem to be a tricky subject with some of the menfolk we have wandering across this beautiful planet. They seem to be this elusive taboo that we haven't quite cracked. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of ladybirds not admitting their true feelings too. Out of fear mainly. Fear that we'll be judged.

I like a man in control of his feelings. One that isn't shy of saying how he feels, one that isn't scared of opening up and being honest. For some menfolk, this seems to be a really difficult concept to grasp. Some guys, rather than be straight with us, use 'feelings' to trap us in to uncertainty. In times gone by there was a guy, who clearly didn't know me that well. Rather than just saying he wanted a one night stand, he lead me on completely. Now if he had admitted his feelings and told me the truth I wouldn't have been so pissed off with him. Not in the fact that it was a one night stand (that turned out to be the most terrible shag of my life) I was more annoyed that he felt he had to bull his way to getting it. Why pretend feelings? What does that actually accomplish?

Forcing feelings is another no-go area. Time and time again I have tried to convince myself in to having feelings for people that really, I didn't. All those hours wasted, over thinking and trying to force the notion that this was good, didn't work. I ended up irritated by the other person. Not that they'd done anything wrong, of course but the fact that they were pushing their feelings on me when I didn't even know what mine were.

A good friend said he didn't want me to think he was weird if he told me how he felt. Is that a standard male fear? He was too worried I would think he was 'soft' if he admitted things to me. There it was. The male fear had materialised itself in a single text message. A message that would inspire me to write about feelings. Is it really a soppy thing to do when admitting your feelings? Is it a general no-no for a fella to admit how he feels? Do men not feel anything? (Other than women's arses in bars?)

I think menfolk need a shake up. A bash around the head. Whatever you feel is appropriate really. They need to realise that girls like feelings. We relish them. We over think them. As much as we say we hate the games, in some way we all love the chase but ultimately, let's have the honest feelings laid out before you string us along. Only after one thing, great, let us know. Really like us, let us know. Let's leave all the teasing and stuff for the playground. We're all grown ups here. Well, most of us. A girl wants to know how a guy feels. Maybe there are ways in which you can tell us without crushing our hearts. You know? If you're not happy with her, perhaps let her down gently but be honest...admit how you feel.

Life is all about feelings. We rely on our feelings to let us know when something is a good or bad idea. If you struggle to admit those you'll end up very alone. Admitting to how we feel can sometimes be really tough. We worry what others will think, whether they'll reciprocate, whether you'll look a fool. Who cares? If we are scared to admit those feelings why are we having them at all? What's the use in holding on to something that you'll never express? Be angry, be upset, be happy. Be whatever you have to be, but let your feelings out!

So, a little note to all the menfolk: 

'Let's get this straight boys. Us ladybirds like an emotional fella. I'm not talking about crying all the live long day, writing poetry and declaring your undying love for us. I'm talking about being honest, admitting how you're feeling and being considerate of our feelings. We're all sentient beings and as much as you want to believe you're this tough, 'give-a-shit' kinda person...you're really not. You will cry over things, you will laugh at random moments and you will fall for someone. That can't be stopped but there's no shame in it at all. So, remember, the next time you're interested in a girl, just tell her. If you only want one thing, let her know. Don't be using these phoney feelings just to get in to her pants because I can promise you, she will be telling all her friends what an idiot you are and you know how much us girls like to gossip. That truth will be shared around pretty quickly.'

I love feelings. I love how they can consume us. How they can overwhelm us, take our breath away and shock us to the core. They are a magical, invisible power that only individually we can understand. There's no use in shying away from them. We must accept them, embrace them and allow them to empower us. If you're feeling sad or angry. Why? Channel your feelings in to something positive. If you're feeling happy or enlightened. Why? Harness that phenomenal power you are feeling and allow it to enter all aspects of life.

I'm feeling pretty amazing right now. What about you?

Hannah xox

Day 184.

It was like she'd woken up. Properly. From the longest sleep she'd ever known. She'd finally become the person she'd always dreamed of. Not some imitation copy. She was finally awake. Wide eyes.

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Yesterday brought with it amazing memories. For me, a memory is something I seem to lack yet I knew that the feelings I experienced would be something I would never lose. 

Along with my sisters and their fellas we ventured up to London. The one city I feel really at home in. After years of trips to Ealing to see my grandparents I was always excited to go back up there and be amongst the bustling crowds and noisy streets. I loved it. We were on our way to Brixton to see The 1975. A band I had loved ever since my friend played me 'Chocolate' in the car one summer's day. It made me happy, it reminded me of her and I couldn't be more excited to hear it live.

Whilst waiting for my older sister and her partner, myself, my other sister and her mister, wandered around Leicester Square taking in all the sights and smells that beautiful place had to offer. With the bells ringing, the chatter of tourists and the sounds of street performers I knew I was in for a good night. We finally met up, had dinner and headed somewhere to get a drink.

The tube was always good fun. So many lines weaving their way around the city. Brixton came all too soon and then came the chilly walk to the Brixton 02 Academy. An imposing building, rising up amongst the run down shops and dull lights. The buzz was phenomenal. We were late, worrying our unreserved seating would be swamped with groups of excitable fans, leaving us separated. Luckily, that was not the case. As we made our way up we sat in the middle, looking down across a sea of heads. The stage was in perfect view.

The warm up acts were good. More so the first than the second. I wasn't really up for seeing an Avril Lavigne tribute act. And then they came on.

The first thing I noticed, or should have noticed, before going in was the signs mentioning the strobe lighting that would be used throughout. Not good news for an epileptic, or possible epileptic. I didn't care though, it would all be worth the mini seizures...and it was. The bright lights flooded the stage, the smoke machine engulfing the front row in a fog of anticipation. 

It occurred to me throughout the show how much I missed seeing live music. After becoming somewhat of a recluse from the music scene it confirmed to me that I was certainly missing out. I also saw that I was one of the only people not on my phone throughout the whole show. Now, as much as I love social media and such, I was so happy to not have my phone with me. Just for those few short hours, I was cut off from the world completely and left to enjoy the melodic sweetness The 1975 were providing. All I could see were arms in the air, holding phones. Taking pictures, recording videos. The amount of selfies going on around me was phenomenal. We decided to join in and, after my sister's flash had blinded us all so we looked stoned in every photo, we gave up. 

The change in feeling from filming an entire gig and simply watching an entire gig are worlds apart. Not having my phone and actually being part of the show was far greater than having a blurred picture of a strobe filled stage to look back on.

Whilst I stood there, listening, taking in the atmosphere, I felt a wave of emotion. Not only was I with my two sisters, I was also amongst a genuinely lovely audience who were all there solely to have a good time. I felt as though my life had clicked in to place. I was resolute that writing was the one thing I wanted to be doing. I knew I had uni but I also knew that I had bigger fish to fry. A back up plan was never a bad thing. I needed to reach even further and become everything I had imagined when I was a little girl. I needed to work for the things I love and become successful in everything I do. I was determined. I am determined.

That one gig was added to the list of 'life changers'. Those times in life where I feel complete. Those times where I realise my full potential and look towards achieving. I felt completely and utterly ready for life.

As I watch my dad, in his Crocs, picking up dog crap, I knew I wanted more from life than I ever had before.

Hannah xox

Day 180.

Primarni is a killer.

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After spending the morning in the library with two friends, attempting to complete work none of us were motivated for I decided it was time I bought new shoes. And a new top. And new leggings. Oh and a necklace. I was a poor, unfortunate girl with the ability to resist a bargain in the same way John Terry was able to keep his dick in his pants. 

On my drive in to uni with my good friend Stephend, we began discussing, as we always seem to do, the trials and tribulations of getting laid. Stephend, a lot like me, agreed that she was trying to live her life through me. Involving random hotel trips and 'try before you buy' fucks. She is the dominating influence on me right about now, especially when it comes to dating and sex. She's always encouraging me to go and try things, go out even when I'm feeling a little nervous and always, without fail, up for getting me to road test things she wishes she'd done. It's hilarious and mostly offers me the encouragement to get out and get on.

Today our conversation turned to sex. "Sometimes you just need a good fuck. Not all the flowery bits." She's right. Sometimes it is all you want. It doesn't need to be candles, affirmations of love and gentle caressing. Sometimes it needs to be rough and ready. Location seems to play a huge part in this sex fiasco. Benches, cars, front gardens, trampolines and swimming pools...there didn't seem to be anywhere we weren't particularly afraid of trying. Or at least, where she wants me to try. 

Recently, I had been propositioned to 'go somewhere' to indulge in one of life's greatest pleasures. It had been loosely planned. No real structure. Just the fact that he wanted to do it and do it pretty soon. Don't get me wrong, there were moments where I thought it would be a great idea. I, someone who enjoys sex, was not fazed by the actual act, it was more what my reputation would suffer from it. Going to a hotel, one night of, hopefully, good sex only to return to normal the next day with the possible chance of awkwardness. Despite, trying to be a 'give a shit about what people think' kind of girl, I did worry...only slightly. The main fear was that I would resemble some form of prostitute as, in some ways, the bloke would actually be paying for sex. He would be exchanging money to in turn, get his end away. Does this now mean that Travelodge would be my pimp? It was an awkward situation.

So, other than my worry of being seen as a prostitute, I was then left with the worry that I, at times, can be a little 'noisy' shall we say. I like to see it as an encouraging boost for the man. 'Well done fella! You're doing okay. Have a squeak for appreciation.' Well, perhaps not a squeak. I then worry that, if this sex is apparently going to be 'good' that I will be left in the uncomfortable position of doing the walk of shame through the lobby to be greeted by giggles from other customers or the staff. Stephend had a solution to this problem. "You need one of those ball gag things. Although, you need to be able to breathe and they can make you dribble quite a bit." Well, that gives you a little insight in to how Stephend's sex life goes...It was a valid suggestion but perhaps not one I would be indulging in just yet. 

Who knows whether this mysterious shag will come about? But, if truth be told, perhaps it all seems a little bit too problematic. If something like that is going to happen I don't want it to be scheduled. I don't particularly want my sex life to be routined. Surely it should be spontaneous and fun, not pressured and possibly uncomfortable? It made me question him slightly too. It made me wonder why he was so keen. Did he just need a good fuck without all the flowery bits? 

Hannah xox