Oh MANNNN!!! I just found a piece of hair in the cupcake I was eating!



I need to write this annoying personal column for a uni assignment and all I can think about is blogging and having fun 😦

Flippin, floppin, flappin uni!


*Regaining composure*


I will post up what I have so far for the column. This is the second draft, which I thought I hated, but read over again and decided I could probably use.

Suggestions on improvement WELCOME.



When Your Subconscious Takes Hold


   You may be the most rational person on the planet, but unless you are some kind of alien life form taking refuge here, you will have experienced it at some stage.


   Stress. Anxiety. The terrible stomach-dropping, swirly-headed sensation whereby you are plunged into a world of inner darkness and conflict that has no rational basis except within your own confused thoughts. You assume you have control of yourself, but by Jove! You are wrong.


   I’ve always considered myself one of those ‘rational’ people. I make wise decisions: I save my money, recycle, think twice before accepting drinks from strangers. I like to think I am ‘on the ball’, ‘with it’, and impenetrable. But alas, I too am wrong.


   This recently became apparent when I experienced a panic attack. I didn’t know that this feeling could exist, that the world could dip and spin before my eyes in such an outrageous way. But there I was, a tiny speck on an expanse of orange couch, shaking, sobbing, imploding.


   Anxiety hit me, as it so often does to us, in a moment of mental fragility. I was running short on time, I was late, I was expecting guests, and I was still in line for an interview at my university. Painfully, the hands of the clock ticked by as though they weighed a tonne each. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, almost choking me. But what I didn’t realise was that my irrational subconscious was about to take over.


   It came on me all at once: a burst of sharp, jagged, iridescent thoughts. I was 19 years old. A year had already passed since I’d finished school and I felt more lost than ever. Would I continue on at university? Would I achieve anything? Would I find myself? Find purpose to my life? Was I going about it all the wrong way? I needed guidance. I needed God. I needed a sign. But more than anything, I needed to escape this feeling.


   As these stress-fuelled daggers tingled at my brain, I began to feel lightning spit from my fingertips. I actually had to physically check that there weren’t sparks shooting out of them. My heart felt constricted and tight. I became shockingly aware of how I was breathing, and that my lungs didn’t feel big enough for the air I needed. I was gasping, sobbing. The dizziness began: a slow, spinning feeling of unbalance. It started to feel that I would never escape this, that I was locked in an airless, lightless, uninhabited chamber, rocked by the thumping of my own heart.


   Though seated safely on the plastic orange couch I felt, honestly, that I was living my last moments of life.


   It can creep up at any time, this feeling. We assume we have control of ourselves, however despite the fact that panic and anxiety are completely irrational, we cannot control how they impact us. While they may not leave us perched on the edge of a couch in a trembling ball every time, feeling stress is only human. We may feel we have it all under control, yet we are all subject to that wily subconscious in the end.



 Ps. post on a dress I sewed is on its way…..

(sewed?? Is that a word?? It looks weird. I’ve never thought about it.)