No more blog

I'm not writing the blog anymore, I can't take the stress of it. It's a loss because I'll have nothing to look back on, but it's not like last year and ever since I arrived, writing my blog has done nothing but upset me. 

Thank you all for reading, 

Hannah

At 6:30PM.

At 6:30 after having been awake since 7am, I finally plucked up the courage to go out. Oh joy. 

I am opposite a big park, I will add a photo. It's very pretty from above. I can't decide which is worse, being inside or being outside. That sounds terrible, It would have sounded better if I'd said "I can't decide which is better" but that would be a bit pointless. I'm stuck inside, don't get me wrong, I have days, especially if Mum is away, where I don't go out and I no one visits, but I'm never alone alone, there are people I could phone, people who are awake (*would it kill you guys to stay awake all night in case I need to chat??) and there are people outside the window, walking past, walking dogs, people across the street yelling and banging on each others windows (we live across from the 'vulnerable adults' accommodation, apparently window banging is like a whole language for them) and people parking their cars in out residents only bays (and earning beady stares from me as I sit in my window). What I mean is I still see a lot if people, and not people 32 floors down in the street like ants, people at eye level who most of the time probably don't know I'm there but it makes no difference. Secondly I make a lot of noise myself, I talk, I pull faces, I stomp, when I get hold of an instrument I sing, you get the picture. Thirdly, I have two cats. There is a formula for cats and happiness, I with I could remember more about the Nth term, but it goes something like: 1st cat =100% rise in happiness, each subsequent cat = a rise in happiness equal to 50% of the rise in happiness cause by first cat. I'm not kidding, this is science! 

Actually it's just a working theory but I fully believe it and if anyone would like to contribute to my reasearch into cat happiness, I'd be happy for you to add to my collection of cats, I have an one of those **wishlists like couples getting married have, so make sure no 2 people get me the same cat (goodness wouldn't that be embarassing!) but I feel I have strayed off the point here, my point is, I have the best non human company available anywhere at home, it's luxary company. One keeps my lap warm while the other one shows me just the right level of indifference to ensure I don't forget I'm in the presence of GODS. (And I don't.) 

Today I woke up at seven having slept fitfully and didn't leave the house. I haven't seen a single person or heard a single voice other than the occasional clamour of voices from the street if I open the window. 

I read all day, a very disappointing and frustating book about a reasonably paranoid detective that mademe reasonably paranoid myself. All day I rook short breaks from my paranoia to reward myself with self loathing and pity and terse words inside my head ("All the way to New Zealand and you won't go out, of hell done"). I took a short break at mid day to write to the blog, and another slightly later to tear up while looking out of the window miserabley and wondering if there was any way I could find an excuse to fall out of it (turns out no, throwing myself from a window won't make me happy, my heart has wounds that can only be healed by the soft paws of kittens hint hint). 

At 6:15 I finished the (bloody stupid pretentious) book and considered going outside. The sun had mostly cooled, but there were clouds drawing besides so It was that gentle eveningy light. I decided to risk it. 

So I did, I went to the park for 15minutes. Then I had a stroke of realisation! Parks are not the same as wildlife reserves or museum gardens, they are not filled with kids on school trips, tourists and nerds like myself! No matter what a beautiful park it is, come early evening it will be dotted with groups of locals, youths and drunk men weeing. After the second man  weeing I decided this was not a museum garden, these people were not here to observe Kaka reeding stations or glimpse a rare Takahe, these people are socialising and unwinding. I was glad to have an excuse to leave the park, but my only other option seemed to be to walk the busy shopping streets or go back to ny room. I went back to my room having not actually heard anyone speaking english and realising I didn't know which was worse, the feeling of unchanging unease that I felt crammed in one room (with a huge floor to ceiling window I might add) all day, or feeling totally isolated outside in a big city. 

Tomorrow I hope I will go to the zoo, I may take a temazepam before bed and hope that just like wherever I stay, today was 'first day fever' (something I more or less get when I go anywhere that involves not wanting to go out.) It does seem to crop up at it's strongest when I have just arrived somewhere. (I remember my 2nd day in Wellington, it was overcast, I shook all day and went very early.) 

This day almost exactly mirrors my big day of epiphany in Stockholm when I couldn't go out, spent all day reading and eventually attempted to leave the appartment in the afternoon. It was -7 degrees and I just couldn't get further than a few steps out of the doorway. That was my second day too, I guess this is also. I have a natural talent for not leaving the house! 

If I had someone with me, I would have gone out today, I know this is true. People who see my travel alone ask why I didn't find someone to come with me. It seems a pretty ridiculous question to me and I never know how to answer it, almost like being asked why I don't grown money in my garden. I would probably answer both questions the same, 'is that possible?' 'Can people even do that?' 'I don't know how and wouldn't know where to start'. I am terrible at being lonely, but I don't know where on earth I would find a human person to drag around the world. I guess I could grow one in my garden, spring is on thw way. 

Anyway, my point is, I'm tired, hungry, lonely, a touch paranoid and a little sad. I don't like to stay in and act the recluse, it's a waste of opportunity, time, money, patience and my self respect which is wearing pretty thin. 

Fix me? 

*this is an in joke I have with my Mum, I couldn't resist, even if she doen't read it. 

**wishlist as follows. Subject to change. 

Burmese

Maine coon

Egyptian Mau

American curl 

LaPerm

Scottish Fold

Bengal

Savannah 

Devon rex

Cornish rex

Any old Moggie

Tiger

Last of all I should note the appalling book in question was 'In the Woods' by Tana French, It's a long time since I've read a book that goes downhill so fast and that ends with such a lack of resolution that I wanted to throw it out of my giant window! On top of that is was bluderingly obvious, patronising, pretentious and fruitless! Highly unreccomended. 

View from my huge window.

I haven't really been up to much

Putting Auckland on my list was a bit of a mistake. I wrongly assumed that because I didn't actively dislike Auckland, I would probably like it if I went for longer. But it's too big and nerve wracking and I totally misjudged it. I have been up the sky tower (and will post a photo of the views), to the aquarium, bought a Ukulele, gone swimming, and plan to go to the zoo. I was going to visit the zoo today but I'm near paralyzed with fear and am too scared to leave my room. Oh that's a Surprise. My accomodation is on the 32 floor of a posh apartment building that's all polished marble lobby and 8th floor spa and swimming pool. I wasn't too bad when I arrived but I spent a considerable amout of time, about 6 hours working out how I could tell her how unhappy I am with the sate of my room and bathroom while I waited for her to get home. In the end I resolved to ask her for a hoover or dustpan and brush in the most tactful way possible with minimum fuss. It turns out that she doesn't own either. Apparently the cleaner does that and she brings them with her. Like hell. Why is my floor covered in debris and the bathroom FULL of hair?? What does the cleaner fo with the vacume, she's clearly not using it to suck things up! Anyway, it really isn't the host's fault, she then went about making me feel extra guilty as she picked up all the obvious pieces of  fluff, shopping tags, peach stems etc off my floor. I felt unbelieveabley bad since I wouln't have taken it up with her if I'd known. However there is still a considerable pile of hair I have swept into the corner of my super posh bathroom.  

How does anyone live without a hoover or dustpan and brush? Doesn't she feel helpless that, god forbid, something gets spilled or smashed she has no way of gathering it up? I think without cleaning things myself I would go exceedingly mad. Maybe because I have 2 cats and without a vaccume the house would be so fluffy we'd drown, but I don't think I could live without being able to clean and tidy myself. I have a look of horror on my face, you can't see it, but you can imagine it. 

The place I stayed before this was lovely but a but odd, beautiful house and neighbourhood, that's all I can say really. I didn't have access to a kitchen but the tea and coffee facilities were a nice surprise. Anyway, I love cicadas and wooden houses with picket fences and tree ferns in the suburbs, but I honestly don't think that would be enough to bring me back to Auckland a third time. For anyone who doesn't know, alrhough Welly is the capital, Auckland is the biggest city in NZ and is higher up in a slightly more subtropical, less windy area. It houses something like a third or a quarter of NZ's whole population and it's a city through and through. Wellington at the very bottom of the north island is smaller, and it's not only the capital of the country, but it's also considered the arts capital of NZ, put simply it's bloody lovely. The people are bloody lovely, the atmosphere is bloody lovely and I bloody love it. Auckland is full of high rises and I can't seem to get a grip on it, especially today I can't bring myself to go wondering in the crowds and big strees and chain stores and coffee shops, starbucks. Wellington is also the coffee capital of the world, it has a higer population density of coffee shops than New York city and they're mostly independenly owned, interesting, fair trade organic jobbies with interesting snacks and amazing ginger beer. 

What we're looking at, is the difference between Camden lock, or london southbank, Vs, Oxford circus. Honestly, I'm not in the mood, and even the lure of a zoo isn't doing the job. I'm skipping today, itMs a waste of money since I'm paying for this fiasco, but I'm going to make mistakes. At the end of the day, I've learnt some things, and especially if it go home having disliked Auckland and Oz, at least I went to Wellington which was the reason I came out here, I could have stayed longer, but I was okay with leaving too. If nothing else works out or comes good. It will have been worth it for that! However, what I hate to think is that I'll spend the next 11 days reading and then go home having not tried. I'm letting myself off on Auckland since I have done some things, and I've been before, it's okay to decide you don't like something as long as you've tried it, but if I go to Sydney and Melbourne and don't leave my room, I don't think I'll ever forgive myself. 

I had this vivid image in my head as I stood, soaked to my skin, water squenching between my toes with every step, in the middle of the forest at night in that silly bit of Cyclone, of a mother, most likely my own, saying "how do you know you don't like it if you don't try it?". I know that's what it comes down to, but I can't seem to find the balance, I don't want to live a life where I'm too scared to try things, but I also don't want to spend my life forcing myself to do things I don't want to do and labelling it 'fun' or a 'holiday'. I disagreed vehemently with anyone who called this trip a holiday. It's not because I'm really pernickety as you might think, it is bacause I'm not enjoying myself enough for it to be a holiday. The way I explained it to people, I made it sould like the reason I had such a problem with it was because calling it a 'holiday' belittled the amout of stress and trouble the whole thing took, made it sound like it was a breeze and it wasn't, made a mockery of the challenge this whole thing was or something. 'They're all travel' I'd tell people, 'they're trips not holidays', but it wasn't just because I wanted people to remember how hard it is or something, there were two real reasons above all others that I insisted the word 'holiday' wasn't used. One, I don't think I deserve a holiday, Holidays are treats for people who have worked hard and accomplished something, sure I work hard every day, but not in the sense that other people do, I work hard at not screaming or self harming, I work hard at leaving the house, at going to therapy, at not crying for days afterwards. That's not the same kind of contribution to society hard work that people deserve holidays for. My Mum deserves a Holiday, she cares for and puts up with a daughter with enough problems to wear out 10 Mums. I can look after myself of course physically, but when I look after myself, I'm teetering, holding my breath, waiting. I don't know how my psychological state would fare didn't live with Mum. 

Secondly, I didn't want people to call it a Holiday because a small, desperate part of me hopes there is more to travel than this. I hope that the sorts of holidays on adverts and in books and films are not a fictional thing, the holidays where you go somewhere with someone who's company you enjoy, you relax, unwind, maybe do something fun or exciting and most of all you enjoy. I'm really scared that this, going somewhere and being terrified and feeling guilty and struggling from one irrational challenge to the next is all there is. If this is a Holiday then what have I got to look forward to? 

I always imagine normal things I want. This trip isn't one of them, it has amazing parts yes, but I don't want my holiday to be terrifying and unpleasent and lonely. This to me is work, this is a struggle. This is like going in a mine to look for gold, I go in and it's not beautiful or wonderful, it's scary and dark and I'm alone. But there's treasure in there and if I can find it, I'll know where to look, and one day I can bypass all the horrid bits and go straight to the gold because I took the time to find it earlier. Short term pain for long term gain. Maybe one day I'll visit Wellington with someone who's company I enjoy, we'll relax, unwind, maybe do something exciting. Have fun. And it won't be a trip, it won't be scrabbbling about in the dark for gold, I'll already know where the gold is hidden. It'll be a holiday. And we won't visit Auckland. 

Little disclaimer.

Okay, just to make things super super clear. On sunday morning I was pretty upset, I posted a blog post describing how I felt. Later that day I posted a second blog post explaining why I'd done it and why I was leaving it up. 

Then tonight I blogged again and noticed that the first blog post on sunday hadn't ever actually been published. I thought everyone was politely ignoring it. I don't know what people thought of the second blog post, no one commented, you must have all thought I was mad. 

Long story short, I have combined the 2 into 1 and posted them because for me, this is like a diary and it's got the good and the bad. Read it if you wish. I also posted another blog post tonight outlining what I've been up to. 

Both posts have little disclaimers on explaining what happened, but I wanted to make it even clearer. Hope everyone is on the same page, thank you xx

This is how I feel today, and then some.

Sunday morning. This didn't publish, I thought is had. All the worrying I did about people's reactions to how I was feeling, and my subsequent explanation in the next post must have sounded so out of context. I was under the impression that this had been up the whole time and everyone had ignored it politely. 

I have decided to post this anyway since I thought it was up here the whole time, but feel free to politely ignore it for real this time. (Today's; Monday's Blog post has also been posted.) 

This is how I felt sunday Morning:

"Tyler's words coming out of my mouth.

And I used to be such a nice person." 

After I posted this, I post again saying the following, I am moving it to here because it makes more sense in order. 

I'm not going to delete my earlier blog post just because I have regained control of my emotions. If I deleted all my bad blog posts when I felt good, then the opposit would also have to apply. I'd be lying if I said I felt good all of the time. I feel bad often enough to fill a book, but it passes as quickly as it comes on. I wish I could remember that all things pass, but I can't when I'm in that place. This morning I felt like I was so twisted up with anger that my soul was falling apart inside me. I felt so full of bitter rage that I thought it was all that I was. 

I couldn't write those honest words I borrowed, they're ugly and vengeful and true and although I want to be honest on here, I don't know where honesty ends and cruelty begins.

Lions and Tigers and Bears... Oh my!

There was a bit of a misunderstanding, at least On my end. On sunday morning I had a breakdown and instead of writing the ugly things I felt inside, I posted a passage from Figt Club, one of my favourite books. It was pushing the bounds of honesty and I thought everyone had politely ignored it. I have appologised several times but no one has acknowleged it. Well that's because it didn't publish. Still, I felt that as honesty goes, it should still be up there. I have decided to post it and it should apear above this post;  today's post. Still, feel free to politely ignore it! 

Monday morning. I know am running behind, also, I feel I owe some people an explanation and an apology. When I say I can't do one thing or another, I'm not putting myself down, I'm just stating a fact. I really am finding it so much harder to do all these things -write, play, (god forbid) draw- than I used to, so when I say I can't do it, I'm being honest, not criticising myself. I think a part of it is that I'm struggling with some demons I haven't identified yet, angry serpent-like things that are making me feel a lot of anger. I can't tell where they're coming from or what purpose they serve. Yesterday I had a gutteral rage that i couldn't find an outlet for, I'm sorry that I felt the need to express it here. I know it may have been unfair of me, but I like to belive that this blog is about a whole person and a whole experience and I do have a lot of ugly feelings inside me. 

Thank you to all the kind people who stick with me and write such kind things. You are honarary family, you have shown a kindness I find baffling and touching as it exceeds what I expect from people. 

I really do feel like I'm losing something, but I hope I'm just mislaying it. It's easy to see the bad things, they're louder than the simple moments of happiness that weave themselves into our day. I have seen and done the most delightful and wonderful things here, I've met strangers who needed somone to talk to, I've done things I never thought I'd get to do, and found amazing simple pleasures, perfect moments. ...however I have wrestled with feelings that are not new to me, but still continue to confound me each time they arise. I don't want them and they're not welcome. A better way to live would be to simply observe these feelings without judging them, to watch as they come and go without giving them power. Yeah, I know the drill, but I can't do it. Yet. 

So what have I done since the last time I really wrote? I've been to the zoo and fed the Lions, I've (shhh, it's a secret) been in the serval enclosure and petted the servals, I've been back to Ninjaflower (Wellington's best piercing studio) and had a few ear piercings, I've been to see beyond (a modern circus act) in the opera house, I've been back to Ninjaflower for photos of my piercinngs (to go in their portfolios), I've been to Zealandia (Wellington's nature reserve) in the sunny sunny daytime, I've had mighty tantrums inside and done some major sulking, I've been to see the Hobbit again (3D, 48fps, Atmos sound) and made up with my inner nerd, I've met up with some women who share in a hobby with me, I've talked a lot! I've had minor breakdowns, that felt like the end of the world when they happened. I've said some things here that were maybe too honest. I've been back to the zoo a 3rd time and gone behind the scenes with one of the keepers to meet their tiger, I have been snubbed and ignored by a tiger! I have met sun bears instead, and watched them go through their training and health checks, I have fed bears jam off a spoon. 

I have been on a night tour of Zealandia and been caught in a downpour in the forest valley for 2 hours; the tail end of Cyclone Lusi. I have seen a Kiwi roaming, I have seen a wild Eel, Wetas and Tuis and Bellbirds, I have seen Tuatara and Glowworms so beautiful they hurt to watch. 

I have had to wear flipflops and keep all my drippy, soaked through clothes in plastic bags.  

I have walked Cuba street and the waterfront and met many strangers who wanted someone to tell their story to, I met Terry who had brain damage but remembers 'gale and angela' and remembered his father the moment he heard him speak, I have met the woman who usually cooks but decided to get her friend a takeaway, I have met the man who is south african but lives in New zealand, who just got a new job.

I have drank ginger beer in the sun, and eaten in the museum garden, and searched for pebbles under a bridge. 

Lastly, I have flown away, leaving Wellington behind and arriving in Auckland with it's summer breezes, and Cicadas and sunshine in the day, and it's crickets by night. I have eaten warm Pumkin soup in a mug and gotten very sleepy. 

Now you have got as far as I have. What will tomorrow be made of? I don't know, good things and peace I hope. 

Night night xx 

My words have gone.

There was something I had last year when I wrote, that I feel looking back I am missing. I don't know what it is, I think I have lost my words. I feel like last year, words found their own place like when I write a song. Even writing this my words feel clumsy like I'm writing in a foreign language. I think I've lost something. 

I don't write songs anymore, I don't do art, I don't practice my music, I can't write.