Well, it's been a week for me. A week of reminders that mental health ebbs and flows. That as humans we are inconsistent. Moods are changing and situations are moving, although often at a different speed than we were hoping. We've got to trust the timing, although often it seems the clock is set wrong. 

I'm an anxious person. I think everyone has some level of anxiety. But there was a day this week when it felt like my entire being was made of anxiety. I didn't know how I was going to make it through that day. Not in a morbid way, in a way that everything felt so heightened I couldn't imagine being out of it, but here we are.

I cried. I threw up, twice. I breathed, in for the count of 4. I held it for the count of 4. and I breathed out for the count of 4. One, two three, four. I lay on the floor in the fetal position and noticed my body shaking. And eventually had a somewhat normal evening. My mind wasn't switched off, but I went about the motions. I sat in front of the TV while my fiancé cooked dinner. I wasn't watching the TV but it was on. I ate carbonara, but I don't think I tasted it. And then I slept. The next day I had what I could only describe as an anxiety hangover. My head was pounding. But I'd made it to the next day, and from then the week was on the up. 

I think that day, I had what people refer to as a breakdown. I'm not really sure how you classify something as a breakdown, but it felt like I had broken. I've had panic attacks before but this felt like more, it felt like I was stuck in a loop of panic attacks. But as my week went it felt more distant, and I remember what it was like to feel joy again. In fact, I even felt joy again.

I know this was triggered by a situational thing. A build-up of a situation which crescendoed. A situation which will hopefully change. And of course, I'm going to take action to not get to this point again. Make changes where they're needed. 

This was a personal one I know. I didn't have much of a plan for today's writing session. Beforehand I'd listened to The Ravens podcast, where, Tessa was a guest, and on this podcast about One Tree Hill they spoke about mental health, and the importance of sharing it - and so when I went to write, that's where I went with it. Is spoken about my mental health online before, but I've never gone into the details. Today it felt like the details mattered. That I'd experienced something which felt so intense writing about it might dilute it. Or at least comfort someone else. 

Bad days happen, but they don't define the other days, and even when we feel feeble I think we can find the power in us to make changes, at least that's what I'm attempting.

It was only a week ago I wrote my last post, but it feels like a lot has changed. Like somehow the earth has shifted on its axis and the world has hit the reset button. I feel in a different place.

One of my goals for this year was to look after myself properly. By that I mean to invest in looking after myself. I'm fortunate enough, that if I budget correctly I am able to afford to do that. This new year's intention has changed everything.

Almost two weeks ago I started taking action on this goal. I finally saw a private dermatologist about my eczema. I've had eczema forever. But over the past few years, it's been bad. Like everything it goes through phases, it follows the pattern of my stress, and I find myself stuck in a vicious cycle, a catch-22. Stress is the cause, and what it causes. The NHS are great, don't get me wrong, but with this, they haven't provided the help I've needed to live the life I want. I won't go into how difficult living with eczema has been, I'll save that for another day. But when it's severe and covers 90% of your body, living in that body does not feel like a pleasant place to live.

So I did some googling. I rang a dermatologist and on the same day I found myself in their offices (offices... is that what they're called? Surgery maybe?)

I won't go into my treatment plan, you don't need to know that. But I will say, my life feels like it's changed. Changed in a way that no level of mindfulness would have achieved.

You see, I am a self-confessed, obsessed self-care junkie. The more cringe and cliché and more into it I am. Often I've fooled myself into thinking my mindset would change everything. It was my mindset that got me through the bad days, but I should just be dragging myself through the days, by clinging to the hope of words of affirmation, when my skin feels on fire. Life is for living after all. 

This one change made me realise I'd been doing it wrong. The self-care thing that is. Where I thought I was an expert, I was actually quite naive and narrow-minded. I'd bought into an idea of self-care that was sold to me through aesthetically pleasing Instagram feeds. Now don't get me wrong, there's a place for all of that. But I'd made the mistake of thinking that's where it started. It's not. The pretty stuff... that's sprinkles on the self-care cupcake. It's sure as hell, not the cake itself.

There needs to be a solid foundation on which you build upon

When my skin was so itchy, that I was up all night, my 10-minute morning meditation might have offered a small distraction, but it was also spent thinking about how I was itchy and tired and my skin hurt. And now I'm in a better place, I can feel the impacts of my mindfulness. 

You can't work backwards. You've got to start from the bottom. Address the problem. Face the big things. And then add the other stuff in. 

In all my years journalling, doing yoga, and picking up daily habits to become the person I aspire to be, I've noticed small shifts, and I always say if it makes you feel good, it makes you feel good it's as simple as that. But I've never felt such a difference, huge a big transformation in my energy, emotion and brain space as I have from putting my hand in my pocket and paying the money to actually see changes to the one thing that has truly made my days difficult.

And I know it won't always necessarily be like this. I know situations, circumstances, and moods change. But I will never take for granted the ease of having clear skin. 

Let this be your reminder, self-care isn't the pretty stuff. The pretty stuff, matters. The lifestyle sprinkle. But you've got to start with life. 

It has been a while. 

I lost my way with writing, I lost my way with this blog.

I felt as though I'd run out of things to say. I couldn't find words that held value, every sentence felt like too much or too little.

Life got busy. My life changed, transformed, and morphed into something new. Before I knew it I had new routines. A new home to settle into. A relationship that did the job which writing used to do, clearing the dusty corners in my mind. Life felt lighter.

And then it got heavy. In love and living in a happy home. I struggled with anxiety and found my skin angry with eczema flare-ups (severe and covering 90% of my body) making day-to-day tough. Transforming little things feel like big things, and not in a nice way. With that my mind filled with fog, and my priority was navigating each day, with only the energy to binge Netflix shows in my pockets of spare time. 

Things have moved forward as they do. And the dust had cleared and now I have space to find words again. 

I've wanted to get back into blogging for the longest time. I just no longer knew how to do it. Ideas for blog posts stopped coming to me in the middle of the night. It wasn't until I was reading Jamie Varon's newsletter that I realised why.

She said "I want to outgrow past versions of myself so completely that trying to go back is painful. I don’t want to be who I was."

And it made me so painfully aware, I'd been trying to grow by going backwards. 

I was trying to make this website of mine what it used to be. Trying to mould words to sound like a past version of myself. But I'm not her anymore, and there's value in growth. Maybe eyeliner reviews don't spark joy like they used to. The purpose of my writing is not what it once was. I'm no longer trying and failing to create a career out of sharing things I love online. I'm writing to know myself more. Play with words again, build them into stories and wanderings which might provide clarity, provoke thought, or a moment of peace. For myself and maybe for whoever else decides to read.

Now I've learned things are fluid, and there might come a time I want to use this platform to share a really great lipstick, but for now, once a week, I'm going to sit down with my laptop and write what comes to me. I might not share everything, and sometimes there might not be a lot to share, but every week, the intent will be there, and I think that's enough.

I'm ready to write again, and I hope you'll come and read what I've got to say.

Typing feels exciting again, and that's really something.

And although the style might be slightly different, after typing away, I feel light, like I used to.