Our three day British summer has come and gone, the remains of my summer glow is slowly fading and I feel fucking fantastic. So my tan may have faded a little, but my post-British summer positive mental attitude is very much still intact. Funnily enough, the glow on my face made me confident which made me more attractive to boys. What are the chances? Who'd have known that all I needed was a bit of self-confidence and a smile to get more boys gathered around me like blind lesbians at the fish mongers. I am now (relatively) the 'Catch of the Day'.
Even though I am still nineteen years old, I have decided to rediscover my freshers youth. I had a bit of a dry spell when it came to going out clubbing as I would have much rathered staying in my little halls of residence room with a bottle of red wine and Netflix. I always got fucked up whenever I went out which would ruin my sleeping pattern until the next time I went out, which would repeat the process. So, I went a bit anti-student and had a little party detox, bar a couple of trips to G-A-Y, because no-one can say no to £1.70 a drink.
But I am still a teenager for one more year so I decided to act like it. When the sun came out, the alcohol cravings began. I got all my friends together and decided to get absolutely fucked. Living in London, I have no fucking idea what to do when a spontaneous alcoholic outing occurs. I find myself googling things like 'best student nights out in London' or 'the best gay nightclubs in London' and go from there. Even though this occasionally works sometimes, we usually end up in a familiar place where we always go. But this night was different.
"You know it's a straight club, right?" my friend asked. "Perfect," I replied. During this point in my life (a whole three weeks ago), I was going through this awkward relationship with someone and didn't know what to do. I wanted to go out and dance, not find a fuck, considering for the past couple of months before hand, I had retired my dancing shoes.
Drinking my bottle of Blossom Hill Pinot grigio rosé in my new black skinny jeans on the tube, I had never felt more excited/clASSy to get off my face. I had a summer glow and a new outfit causing me to walk into this night club like Roxxxy Andrews walking into the work space on RuPaul's Drag Race series five. I felt good, I was smiling and I wasn't even thinking about the end of night McDonald's, which is usually always on my mind.
Even though I promised myself to stay away from guys, the moment I walked into this club I noticed the cutest boy, around my age ordering a drink. About four hours later he was taking me home on the night bus. This usually never happens to me, and if it does, I usually blame it on the other person feeling sorry for my friends because I used to get too drunk. We didn't have sex, but we could of. In fact, with this relationship I'm currently in going a bit tits up, now I wish I did have a joint party in our pants.
The moral to this overly-long blog post is to have fun, feel confident and smile whenever jizz is involved. Being cute is a way of being (I'm being sarcastic, do whatever you want).
Showing posts with label help. Show all posts
Showing posts with label help. Show all posts
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Saturday, 27 April 2013
Dealing with Panic Attacks and Anxiety
This is going to be a different blog post to what you're used to, but I hope that this will help at least one person because anxiety is one of the most horrible psychological feelings you can go through. If you're kind enough to read my blog whenever I create a new post, you know me as the teenage alcoholic going through a late-teen crisis when it comes to love and Zayn Malik obsession. But all my life I've suffered with mild anxiety and over the past couple weeks, I've been having real bad panic attacks and feel like I'd share with you how I cope with it.
A lot of people assume that if you're confident or happy for the majority of the time you're with that person, that you're confident and happy 100% of the time, have no self esteem issues and are pretty much stable. But there are a lot of dark, stormy clouds in the metaphorical summer of the mind. Anxiety and panic attacks are terrifying. Talking about them is terrifying. Blogging about this makes me feel uber uncomfortable because thinking about panic attacks makes me, well, panic.
I'm not exactly sure what triggered my anxiety, and I can't remember my first panic attack. But recently, I've had panic attacks that last for hours in little spurts. I feel alone during this time, even if I have friends around me supporting me. I feel alone and scared. You get really warm and start sweating like a menopausal bitch, but at the same time you can feel coldness. It's very unpleasant and once they start, all sorts of emotions and feelings like adrenaline, illness and unhappiness all come at once. I wouldn't even wish for Spencer from Made in Chelsea to have a panic attack (but I would punch him in the face).
Panic attacks feel like they are cock blocking your life. You want to do things, but are scared to do them just in case you have a panic attack. If you've had a panic attack in a certain place, you're more likely to have a panic attack in a similar situation. So you need to try and break the mold. Go to these places with people that love you and hold their hand. If it's a nightclub, go to a nightclub sober with friends until you're comfortable enough to get shitfaced and not have a panic attack. Personally, for me I used to have them in primary school all the time, or just randomly when I go to sleep.
The main thing you need to do if you're having a panic attack is contact someone. If you're with a friend, tell them immediately. If you're not, go to get your phone and ring someone. A familiar voice or face can really help you keep calm. But the person with you has to stay calm also. They should never be forceful or make assumptions about your needs. The person just needs to ask every now and again if you're feeling okay. If you're with someone having a panic attack, be calm, be supportive and reassuring.
Panic Attacks will not ruin your life if you don't make them. You can let them be a huge part of your life or you can do something about it. If you need help and suffer with really bad panic attacks, make sure you go and see a doctor, even if you're not sure. There are drugs that can help you and even though it is classed as a 'mental illness', it does not make you abnormal or anything of the sort. Panic attacks are actually a lot more common than people think and there are a lot of people that have severe anxiety. There are therapy groups or personal therapy that can make a huge difference in helping you cope with anxiety. Exercise isn't really a word in my vocabulary, but sometimes if I feel a bit panic-y then I go for a jog around the block. Get something to take your mind off things. Most importantly, do not do this alone. Do not lock yourself in your room and stay away from things that you think may trigger a panic attack. Surround yourself with lovely people and talk to them about it. They WILL be a lot more understanding than you think they will.
This blog post was really hard for me to post and I am very sorry for not being up-to-date on my blogging. It's been a hard couple of weeks but I promise to be blogging about fashion and crotches on a more than weekly basis very soon. If this helps even one person I will not regret posting this as it's been a very hard hour and a half behind this computer screen. If you go through some of the things I've talked about and don't know who to talk to, please don't hesitate to ask me something on my Tumblr or direct message me on my Twitter. In the words of Micheal Jackson, you are not alone.
A lot of people assume that if you're confident or happy for the majority of the time you're with that person, that you're confident and happy 100% of the time, have no self esteem issues and are pretty much stable. But there are a lot of dark, stormy clouds in the metaphorical summer of the mind. Anxiety and panic attacks are terrifying. Talking about them is terrifying. Blogging about this makes me feel uber uncomfortable because thinking about panic attacks makes me, well, panic.
I'm not exactly sure what triggered my anxiety, and I can't remember my first panic attack. But recently, I've had panic attacks that last for hours in little spurts. I feel alone during this time, even if I have friends around me supporting me. I feel alone and scared. You get really warm and start sweating like a menopausal bitch, but at the same time you can feel coldness. It's very unpleasant and once they start, all sorts of emotions and feelings like adrenaline, illness and unhappiness all come at once. I wouldn't even wish for Spencer from Made in Chelsea to have a panic attack (but I would punch him in the face).
Panic attacks feel like they are cock blocking your life. You want to do things, but are scared to do them just in case you have a panic attack. If you've had a panic attack in a certain place, you're more likely to have a panic attack in a similar situation. So you need to try and break the mold. Go to these places with people that love you and hold their hand. If it's a nightclub, go to a nightclub sober with friends until you're comfortable enough to get shitfaced and not have a panic attack. Personally, for me I used to have them in primary school all the time, or just randomly when I go to sleep.
The main thing you need to do if you're having a panic attack is contact someone. If you're with a friend, tell them immediately. If you're not, go to get your phone and ring someone. A familiar voice or face can really help you keep calm. But the person with you has to stay calm also. They should never be forceful or make assumptions about your needs. The person just needs to ask every now and again if you're feeling okay. If you're with someone having a panic attack, be calm, be supportive and reassuring.
Panic Attacks will not ruin your life if you don't make them. You can let them be a huge part of your life or you can do something about it. If you need help and suffer with really bad panic attacks, make sure you go and see a doctor, even if you're not sure. There are drugs that can help you and even though it is classed as a 'mental illness', it does not make you abnormal or anything of the sort. Panic attacks are actually a lot more common than people think and there are a lot of people that have severe anxiety. There are therapy groups or personal therapy that can make a huge difference in helping you cope with anxiety. Exercise isn't really a word in my vocabulary, but sometimes if I feel a bit panic-y then I go for a jog around the block. Get something to take your mind off things. Most importantly, do not do this alone. Do not lock yourself in your room and stay away from things that you think may trigger a panic attack. Surround yourself with lovely people and talk to them about it. They WILL be a lot more understanding than you think they will.
This blog post was really hard for me to post and I am very sorry for not being up-to-date on my blogging. It's been a hard couple of weeks but I promise to be blogging about fashion and crotches on a more than weekly basis very soon. If this helps even one person I will not regret posting this as it's been a very hard hour and a half behind this computer screen. If you go through some of the things I've talked about and don't know who to talk to, please don't hesitate to ask me something on my Tumblr or direct message me on my Twitter. In the words of Micheal Jackson, you are not alone.
Thursday, 28 February 2013
Love, dating and my sad, pathetic life.
For those who are new to this blog. Hello. I'm Jack. I'm 18 and I'm married to Shannen Doherty from the original Beverly Hills, 90210 with three kids. Well, this is not strictly true, although the essay I wrote when I was ten predicted I'd be married to a woman by 21, have a son at 24 and twin girls by the time I'm 30. Alas, I am a gay dude who's Facebook relationship status is single, and I have two years to find and marry Shannen Doherty.
Despite my desperation to find Zayn Malik, I've only ever had two gay relationships. One ended before coming to university last Summer, and the other with vodka (we're on a break, after what I can only describe as the worst hangover ever, sent from Hell) (I assume vodka is a boy, because it's so damn delicious). Because of my break-up with a boy I thought I'd be with for a long time ended, my bed has become my loving husband, and Netflix my harsh dominatrix of a mistress, demanding I devote all my time to watching The Hills and Jerseylicious (don't judge me).
The problem is I've not been a very good dater. The other night I decided to take someone out on a date. I was in charge of location, time, etc. and to be quite honest, it was lovely. We went for street food in Camden, followed by a cupcake accompanied walk to Primrose Hill, where we enjoyed hot chocolate and a chat, with the most amazing view of the London skyline. But now I don't know what to do or what to say.
I've spent nearly my entire teenage years in relationships with Troy Bolton, Justin Timberlake and Zack Morris from Saved by the Bell. My teenage years are almost over. I want to find someone that I can be myself around, have sexy times with, and do crosswords with whilst drinking a bottle of red. I really don't think I'll find this relationship in SoHo on a night out with my girls and gays. The only relationship you'll form from a night out in SoHo is with gonorrhea.
My problem is obvious. I'm not making the most of what I get. Cupid shoots the arrows and I go to surgically remove them. But I think this applies to all gay men. I've had two sexual experiences since coming to university. One of them included me bringing someone back to mine. It was just before Christmas and I really liked this person. I even cooked him oven chips for Christ's sake. If that doesn't scream true love, then I don't know what does. After getting the undercooked crumbs of the McCoys oven chips all over my sheets, we got a little frisky and had the best sleep ever resulting in a late for lecture fiasco with a quick digit exchange. After that, I didn't hear from him, and he didn't hear from me (if you're reading this, it's a bit fucking late now, and my apologies for not texting you). Maybe it's just my destiny to become a cat lady, which is fine and dandy with me because I spend 20% of my time youtubing cat videos, and another 20% looking for cat GIFS on tumblr. That's 40% guys. 40%.
This sad and pathetic blog posts calls for an intervention. I, Jack Rattenbury, am going to go on a second date this week. It's what Dame Lauren Conrad would want.
Despite my desperation to find Zayn Malik, I've only ever had two gay relationships. One ended before coming to university last Summer, and the other with vodka (we're on a break, after what I can only describe as the worst hangover ever, sent from Hell) (I assume vodka is a boy, because it's so damn delicious). Because of my break-up with a boy I thought I'd be with for a long time ended, my bed has become my loving husband, and Netflix my harsh dominatrix of a mistress, demanding I devote all my time to watching The Hills and Jerseylicious (don't judge me).
The problem is I've not been a very good dater. The other night I decided to take someone out on a date. I was in charge of location, time, etc. and to be quite honest, it was lovely. We went for street food in Camden, followed by a cupcake accompanied walk to Primrose Hill, where we enjoyed hot chocolate and a chat, with the most amazing view of the London skyline. But now I don't know what to do or what to say.
I've spent nearly my entire teenage years in relationships with Troy Bolton, Justin Timberlake and Zack Morris from Saved by the Bell. My teenage years are almost over. I want to find someone that I can be myself around, have sexy times with, and do crosswords with whilst drinking a bottle of red. I really don't think I'll find this relationship in SoHo on a night out with my girls and gays. The only relationship you'll form from a night out in SoHo is with gonorrhea.
My problem is obvious. I'm not making the most of what I get. Cupid shoots the arrows and I go to surgically remove them. But I think this applies to all gay men. I've had two sexual experiences since coming to university. One of them included me bringing someone back to mine. It was just before Christmas and I really liked this person. I even cooked him oven chips for Christ's sake. If that doesn't scream true love, then I don't know what does. After getting the undercooked crumbs of the McCoys oven chips all over my sheets, we got a little frisky and had the best sleep ever resulting in a late for lecture fiasco with a quick digit exchange. After that, I didn't hear from him, and he didn't hear from me (if you're reading this, it's a bit fucking late now, and my apologies for not texting you). Maybe it's just my destiny to become a cat lady, which is fine and dandy with me because I spend 20% of my time youtubing cat videos, and another 20% looking for cat GIFS on tumblr. That's 40% guys. 40%.
This sad and pathetic blog posts calls for an intervention. I, Jack Rattenbury, am going to go on a second date this week. It's what Dame Lauren Conrad would want.
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