Sometimes I don't feel so great.

Everyone goes through periods of being a little stressed, burned out and/or feeling generally rubbish.

I know I have.

But when I tell someone close to me that 'I'm not feeling so good today', they know what I'm feeling can't be remedied by long soak and a Lush bath bomb.

'Not so good' has become my euphemistic way of saying that a black-hole of dread has just opened up in my stomach and I'm clinging on to the edges of reality to avoid being completely sucked in to it.

It means: 'please help me'.

I'm going to save the specifics of this black-hole's destructive intent for a future post, when I feel a bit more up to replacing these euphemisms with the proper terminology.

But for now, I'll say that no amount of candles and lavender pillow sprays can help someone who feels so lost and detached from the world that they can't recognise their own face in the mirror. The only thing that has truly helped me deal with 'not feeling great' has been a combination of [the right] medication and [the right kind of] therapy.



One thing I've learned over the past few months, however, is that once this treatment has begun to take effect, small pleasures - the humble bubble bath among them - can be effective in helping to sustain wellness.

I’ve discovered that as my mind starts to feel more a part of the world around it, I am able to find some enjoyment things I had previously believed myself unworthy of: Banana and peanut putter on toast, carefully brewed loose tea in a colourful teapot and - yes - scented candles. All of these things can help to sustain the initially brief periods of calm I happen across as I start to get better.



And learning to enjoy these things again is as much a part of ‘getting better’ as is enjoying them.

Because it’s a process closely allied with learning to be alone. Learning to spend time with myself. Learning to hear, see and feel my own thoughts without letting them swallow me whole.



I was lucky to have a rotation of sitters on hand for when I just couldn’t be alone with those thoughts - people who would sit and watch daytime TV with me at the drop of a hat, or bring me cups of tea at 3am.

But I knew that I had to relearn how to be alone. I had to find ways of keeping my mind occupied and outside of itself without relying on someone else to do it for me.

I’ve had to find things to do.

Colouring in (not the overly intricate stuff), knitting (badly), reading a (trashy or pretentious) magazine, watching Strictly Come Dancing, moulding animals with play doh.

These unchallenging yet engrossing activities have become anchors to the real world, pulling me away from the intrusive thoughts that seek to take advantage of my mind's vulnerability.




So, while no amount of bergamot infused body lotion is going to help someone who is drowning in the depths of utter hopelessness (anyone who does feel that way should make an appointment with their doctor ASAP), little indulgences can really help to make things better once the thickest of the fog has lifted. 

And it's so important to keep this self-care up, even when that formerly giant black hole seems nothing more than a fading spec of hyper-pigmentation left by a mega-pimple. Because what better time to look after yourself than when you're capable of doing so?

If nothing else, taking the time to look after ourselves makes us more able to deal with life's little stresses - those small frustrations and anxieties that can trigger something much more distressing if left unchecked.