Handling Hyperawareness 

During my very short time on this planet, I have learnt that I am an over-thinker. Even as a child I would always ask why? When I would watch Back To The Future I would ask about the other characters feelings and worry – how they would feel waiting for these lost futuristic travellers who would never return; would they miss them? Would Marty and Doc think of them often? Perhaps not at all, but if so then why not?

I would over analyse Freaky Friday with the deliciously disaster-like Lindsay Lohan, worrying myself horrendously about how I would react should I be swapped bodies with my mother – I couldn’t drive, or even load the dishwasher properly let alone go to work and do it successfully. These weirdly wonderful over-analysations of the world around me have continued into my adulthood yet they feel somewhat normal now. Hyper-awareness has turned into hyper-averageness and I think this is how I transformed it into such:

As we age, from adult into elderly or child into an adolescent, there is always a sense of awareness. For when we are young we understand that strongly worded “no” meant “Lucy please stop throwing the sand out of the sandpit onto the patio” or that drunken text to your boss was perhaps not the best idea. Now, it must be acknowledged, there comes an awkward middle ground between adolescence and adulthood which seems to invite some kinds of extreme hyper-awareness.

When we are teenagers, or when we are about to awkwardly sprout into such, we become very in-tune with how we look and consequently appear to those around us. You will no longer wear those school shoes with the big buckle and you’ll no longer wear those glittery butterfly clips, your room is painted and your tastes change as quickly as the seasons with your every passing year. Puberty is a big old bitch with a capital B.

To you, you’re just growing up, but to your parents, you run off ahead swinging from lamp-posts and what gallop what feels very far away from their loving grasp. You no longer allow your Mum to pick and carefully lay out the colour coordinated items of clothing that she ironed oh so neatly just for you to wear the next day. Instead, Teenage You discovered eyeliner and tweezers which consequentially left you with very questionable brows and an eye infection or two.

The conclusion of these ramblings is: become less aware of the way your hair looks or the way you dress sometimes. Hold your mother or father’s hand, whatever age you are. Splash in puddles when it rains, play in that cardboard box, skim stones on the ponds you come across and blow bubbles with dish soap when the washing up becomes a little tedious. Do not shy away from what made you that lovely child many moons ago because one day, maybe if you’re incredibly lucky, your own children might have similar reflections – maybe if you’re lucky, so incredibly lucky, they will grab your hand and squeeze it tight when you thought that perhaps they may not.

By Lucy Heather


My name is Lucy and welcome to my blog!

I am a self-diagnosed fiction junkie and De Montfort University alumni who went from student paediatric nurse to aspiring author and poetess.

Come and listen to my ramblings about subjects that have ridden the rails of my brain for years, or simply skim over the thoughts that were hitchhiking for a stop or two. 

If you want to know where to find me, catch up with me on my latest blog posts or my social media; Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat or Pinterest.

Thanks for dropping by!

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