Picture Description : Header Image is Hannah’s face, slightly puffy and red.
19/05/22
Travelling in mercury retrograde is no joke. To everyone but my Dad. And the train guy who let the train drive off as I was running with four bags, two on wheels, two over one shoulder, and a slightly satanic teddy being held for dear life and death with my one free finger (I know this is not the guy’s fault and he’s just doing his job and I was the one who was late but leave me alone). It was honestly almost poetic; me running, the beginnings of a panic attack rising up in my stomach, my phone jumping out of my bag to kiss the marble floor of Glasgow central, the tears starting before the train I WASN’T on had even hit full speed. This was all the result of two cancelled taxis, two separated parents and two hours recovering from the results of separated parents as soon as I woke up. I was late. No one’s fault in particular, but when I called my Dad in tears and hyper-ventilating I resorted to the usual; pinning it on every single energetic figure other than myself.
This is the beginning of my ‘Big Solo Trip, which also makes up a few credits for my degree. The trip YA authors reference when they spaff a perfectly good scenario up the wall on boy-meets-girl-but-really-meets-themself. I want the last half particularly, but a snog would be alright as well I guess. The part of myself I found through this planetary challenge / shitshow was the part that is okay no matter what. Shit happens, I cry, I hyper-ventilate, I lash out and think I could never possibly come back from this, then I do. I buy a ticket for the next train, get some fresh air and a sandwich, and I’m back to convincing my parents that I’m fine within half an hour. Looking through a woo-woo lens, specifically post-eclipse season and mid-retrograde, I guess the universe was telling me to buckle in and calm down. I was rushing and manic; the missed train gave me fifty minutes to cry and contact the people I’ve worked so hard to feel safe around, and a lady saw me in my ‘state’ (for lack of a better phrase) and brought me some ice water and asked the people at Starbucks to keep an eye on me because she was going to work. I am so, so grateful for that Lady. No matter how much things go wrong (this is the first time I have ever missed a train and for someone with anxiety, control and routine issues, things could not go more wrong) things will be fine. They’ll be annoying and challenging, but they’ll be fine. I just need to give myself some time to slow down and do it at my own pace, not the ‘answer everyone’, ‘do everything’ and ‘do it all perfectly’ girl-boss pace I’ve been trying to go at.
My 21st birthday was a few weeks ago, and this long-time-coming trip was partly paid for as my big present to myself going into womanhood. It already feels like a boot camp of how to deal with myself. I spend a lot of time by myself or listening to the bad worms in my brain, but I don’t actually know how to be by myself in full-consciousness. So whilst studying and sight-seeing, I’ll also be learning how to support myself; without my herbs, potions, High-thread count Egyptian cotton bedding and friends I’ve just got around to opening up to. I want to say I know that sounds silly, but I refuse to call myself silly, stupid, dramatic or fucked up. I’ll reclaim psychotic and ,at a push, Drama Queen or Setraline Senorita, but I have decided I’m dong away with these kind of labels and any other web-md personality diagnosis my therapist told me is just catastrophsing. I’m dealing with things, including myself, with love, patience and genuine curiosity. I need a lot more of all this, especially in the current climate (INSERT ISSUE HERE).
I think we all do.
Song of the day = Vienna - Billy Joel
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