Eye Lashes

I have this horrible habit of pulling out my eyelashes.

I’m quite sensitive about it, I’ve never had wonderful lashes to begin with. I feel uncommonly proud when my eyelashes look full and I can wear mascara and feel like it’s actually being applied to something rather than stubbly little lashes.

I know it must stem from stress, all the best things do, and sometimes I can pull out three at a time. However, I also pull them out because the root of the problem is that they hurt, literally. It can just be one eyelash that is giving me grief but it. must. come. out.

It doesn’t always stop there though.

I’m not saying that I have trichotillomania because I don’t think I do and I’m not trying to take anything away from people who suffer from it either. This is why I’ve referred to it as a bad habit, which it is, it’s also one I can’t stop doing.

I get stressed and overtired easily, I get sore and dry eyes easily, I have an oily skin type and as I’ve preciously mentioned I suffer from anxiety and panic attacks. I’m listing all of these things because I feel like they all contribute. I don’t get eye infections, I remove my makeup thoroughly every night, I use eyedrops regularly, I wash my face day and night and I change my pillowcases.

I don’t know why I decided to share this in a post today. It’s not something nice but it might be relatable and it’s a thing that flares up, which is I guess what prompted this. I used to do this when I was younger too and I don’t remember them hurting then, it was more of oh, I can pull these eyelashes out, weird satisfaction.

Destructive behaviour is one of my specialties.

Lizzie X

Blink

I suffer from anxiety and panic attacks. Lately I haven’t had as many panic attacks, which has been really great (understatement of the year).

I was out on Sunday afternoon, with my mum, it was nearing the end of the day and we were headed home. She had driven all the way there so I offered to drive back.

I used to love driving at night time, it felt peaceful and with my music on and the window down, no matter the weather, looking out over all the lights. I felt free.

On this particular drive though all I felt was a panic attack a second before it hit.

It came out of nowhere. It happened so quickly. Blink.

It felt like an electric shock but it wasn’t electric. This shock wave passed through me, every inch of skin, every vein, every blood cell, in an instant. One minute I was driving the next I had my eyes tightly shut, my body was rigid and I could’t breathe. A wave of coldness washed through me and then my heart rate sped up.

I realised I was still driving.

I forced my eyes open and realised I was doing 20kms less than before. Cars were right near me and I don’t remember them being there before, everyone trying to get home, just like me. My hands were hurting from gripping the wheel so tightly. “Are you okay?” I couldn’t answer I just focused on breathing and keeping my eyes open.

In through the nose, out through the mouth, relax my hands, blink.

I picked up the conversation where it had ended abruptly before the panic attack and hit me and tried to continue as normal. Normal driving, normal talking, normal breathing.

It hadn’t passed, just subsided. Perhaps it was only five minutes later, maybe more, I’d gotten myself to breathe again, drive at the speed limit and I was feeling safer. Slightly. Cars were all around me, in front of me, beside me overtaking and breathing down my neck behind me. I was crouching in my seat to avoid the headlight reflections in my rear view mirror, I know I can flick it but I find that to be very disorientating because I can’t determine the distance of the cars behind me. Before I knew it I’d slowed right down. My hands were gripped so tightly around the steering wheel, my breathing was laboured and the second wave of cold anxiety and panic was washing through me.

I somehow managed to shake my shoulders, or maybe it was more of a shudder, sending movement through my body that was my own. I must have made some kind of strangled noise because I was asked if I was okay, again. Blink. I flexed my fingers and I focused on putting my foot down a little bit to get back to reasonable speed but I stayed slow so the cars would overtake me.

Thankfully not long after that my turn off came up and I slowed right down to a complete stop at the stop sign before turning onto a much quieter road and continuing into town. When I pulled over into a park I handed the keys over and got into the left-hand side of the car. Mum drove the rest of the way. Sitting in the passenger seat I was able to breathe again and try to get the feeling back in my extremities.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Lizzie X

 

P.S I wrote most of this on Sunday night as soon as I got home, I didn’t know if I would post it but I’ve decided I would share it. I’m so sick and tired or being scared of my anxiety. So here it is in my somewhere and nowhere place for others to read and use.

Never Been Kissed

I have never been kissed.

Now before I continue, in the spirit of full disclosure, I will elaborate: I do not mean in the Drew Barrymore/Josie Geller 1999 drama way, I have never been kissed in a way that makes my heart stop and the whole world dissolves away, leaving the two of you intwined together until you come up for air and you’re left feeling light and hazy but also full and like nothing has seemed more clear.

I’m not talking about a Hollywood movie kiss, traditional or contemporary, because I know that they’re staged, they’re too perfect and they can’t be trusted. But with the help of the right music and if the actors have the right chemistry and the proper build up, you can definitely get swept up in the moment and it can feel believable.

When I read about these types of kisses (which I do because they crop up every now and then in various books I read) it feels like something that isn’t exactly 100% foreign. This is obviously because I have partaken in kisses, I have been the kisser and the kissee, so I have been in the same region but not quite there. I’ve played the game but haven’t quite reached that level. Others have regaled me with their tales however.

I believe these types of kisses can be purely lust filled but the best ones are when you connect with someone on a whole other playing field, miles from the region I’ve been in, on a secret level I haven’t managed to figure out. Because you need a teammate, an ally who’ll help you navigate your way there and for one reason (or many) I haven’t.

I can’t help but wonder if I’m being foolish and such kisses even exist or if maybe I’m better off having never been kissed but I’m still optimistic about this. After all, there are so many different types of kisses why would this be the one that everyone lies about? That would just be too cruel.

It’s almost midnight on a Wednesday night and I’ve written over 300 words about kisses because they’ve been on my mind lately. I could probably write more too, go on and list the varying types of kisses, (although being completely honest I’m not your best resource for the comprehensive list) but instead I’m going to keep and it somewhat short and sweet, like one of the types of kisses I have had, now that I’m approaching the 400 mark.

If you’ve had one of these otherworldly kisses know that I’m happy for you and please put me in touch with your intergalactic connection.

Lizzie X