Grief, ED recovery, Mental Health and all the lovely things that give my Sisyphean rock meaning
Buying clothes in recovery isn’t a glow-up montage - it’s a fight with Clippy, grief over leggings you've burst out of, and a quest to not be bottomless in Lidl. But somehow, in navy and Nike Air Max, I’m finding pieces of myself again. Not just clothes - breadcrumbs back to who I used to be.
He doesn’t fix my pain, and I don’t ask him to - but his love still reaches me, even in the darkest spaces. My son has been the Sun in my universe lately, shining warmth and light on days that felt impossible. I keep orbiting because his light still finds me.
I set out expecting stress, but somehow, today turned out… okay. The meds got sorted, the errands got done, and Iceland had the AUDACITY to be pricier than M&S. I came home exhausted, but with a warm flat, a good loaf of bread, and a little relief. Finally.
Plushies have always been a love language for me, symbolising comfort, connection, and hope. From my son's Jellycat birthday cake to earrings that reflect my journey of healing, each gift tells a story of love and resilience. This birthday gift haul reminded me how deeply I’m seen, valued, and celebrated
Absurd Universe 