I woke up this morning in the most vulgar of moods.
Rudey was crying at me from the dungeon of a spare room we’ve been forced to trap her in for the last five days on advice from the vet, I was hideously behind with work, my bank account looked like I’d accidentally got drunk and spent everything on rounds of Jaegerbombs (miss you circa 2012 Hannah) and I was irritated that I’d let myself sleep for 11 hours.
ELEVEN HOURS. WHO EVEN NEEDS THAT AMOUNT OF SLEEP? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.
Anyway, before I let my angsty brain get the better of me and I had to curl into the foetal position on the floor and demand Chris play Mario Kart with me from the safety of a sofa den, I took my toosh off for a swim.
I don’t understand why swimming is my safe place. Why swimming allows me to pull myself back up from the dark, deep depths of my own brain, but it does.
It makes me feel like Hannah again. The good Hannah. The Hannah that people like. The Hannah that I am proud of. The Hannah who feels like she could run the world.
I think it’s important to find something, a thing, a doing thing, not a person, who pulls you back. A thing that reaches out an arm and stops you from drowning.
And it has to be a thing. A thing that you can realistically do at any given time or in any given place, because you should never place that sort of weight onto another person.
I used to try that a lot as a teenager and as a muddled young woman busy necking cheap white wine and Doritos (stay classy, HG), and it never worked out. People don’t like that kind of pressure laid on them – people cannot bear the entire responsibility for your brain’s stability, y’know?
So whenever you wake up and feel like fuuuuuuck, I don’t know if I can do today, you have to have a go-to. Something lined up that you can turn to that will, time and time again, make everything a bit more bearable.
Swimming is my main mental stability gal pal. But Pilates just about does the trick too. And colouring in, but only with the good pens. And Classic FM or Harry Potter – the books, the films and the audio tapes. And baths. Long baths without my phone, surrounded by candles and bubbles and the light off.
ALSO, I totally opened this new post page to write about my date night outfit from yesterday, and not to go off on some rant about swimming and my brain. FFS.
It was only about three paragraphs back I was like um, this can’t be a fashion post anymore can it? I’ve got too deep, too quick.
Let’s all cry laugh at Hannah.
So anyway, yeah, I don’t know if I’ve ever done a checklist post to get you through a bad brain day, but maybe that’s something I should whip together. (Although there is this post I guess).
I might make my own, something drawn up with fancy colours in the back of my bullet journal that’s unique to me. A guide to follow for when my brain just does not fancy playing ball, when it starts to look at all the negatives in my life, instead of singing about the positives.
I realise everyone will have their own little things that pick them up time and time again, but do let me know if you’d like the Hannah Gale step-by-step guide to feeling mildly human when your brain is like nuh huh hunny we gonna dwell in bed and be a lazy lil bitch and focus on how hideous a person you are.
There is, as with many of my recent posts, no real point to this post. I didn’t start typing hoping to get a point across, I just sort of started typing mindlessly, hoping it would make me make sense of myself more than anything.
So I hope you’ll accept that, even if it makes me sound a bit drunk at times. Man, I could so go for a glass of red on the sofa right about now. WHY YOU NO BE IN MY CUPBOARD.
And on that note, I might mosey on over to Tesco Express.
Not for wine, mind, I quite fancy making something deliriously dirty to eat – maybe some brownies, I dunno.
And then I’m going to take off the make-up I only really put on to film a video (New York haul will be up here shortly), put on some fresh pyjamas, and set about ticking things off my happiness checklist so that maybe, maybe my work mo-jo will come a-creeping back in time for Monday.
WISH MY LUCK, GAL PALS.
(Every time I type ‘gal pal’ I hear gal pal Rachel Green in my head, lols).