Grief, ED recovery, Mental Health and all the lovely things that give my Sisyphean rock meaning
Life lately has been a strange mix of chaos and comfort -electricians installing what feels like the sun, a full coffee hyperfixation, and quietly escaping into Minecraft. Somewhere between all of that, I’ve been trying to keep things together, finding small pockets of calm in places I didn’t expect.
Yes, this is an ENTIRE post about Iced Biscuit lattes, and how they've given my life meaning recently. One must imagine Sisyphus drinking Iced Biscuit lattes. There's a recipe if you want to make one too.
I was in so much pain, exhausted, and honestly bored of it all. But I still went to Cardiff with my son anyway. It wasn’t easy, and I wasn’t fully present, but it was real. Sometimes life doesn’t hand you a good day. Sometimes you have to make one, even through struggle.
It’s been a week of exhaustion, strange half-awake thoughts, and doing life anyway. Somewhere between a musical electrician, a trolley upgrade, and a film I didn’t expect to love, things still happened. Not how I planned, not how I wanted - but I somehow survived and lived anyway.
I tried to restore order to my life after gastritis and during cluster headaches. Instead, I burnt Welsh cakes, broke a suitcase, and nearly lost my sanity. Somewhere between entropy, Biscoff, and questionable decisions, I managed to get back on track - slightly more stable, still chaotic, and fully entering my Welsh nan era.
I didn’t realise I was hurting myself, because it didn’t look like harm. It looked like doing the right thing. Pushing through. Not restricting. Carrying on. But my body felt it. The consequences were real. Recovery, for me, isn’t doing everything. It’s learning when stopping is the kinder choice.
I almost didn’t write this post because I feel like I’m always the person with another problem. But cluster headaches are part of my life for months every year. Hiding them never helped me. Even during relic malfunctions and pain, life still happens - sausage rolls, book towns, and Minecraft houses full of chickens.
This week has been a strange mix of gastritis, scaffolding noise, and small victories. I defeated Optimus Amazon Prime (a mountain of cardboard boxes), accidentally fell into the TikTok illusion dimension, and hugged a loaf of bread. Survival, it turns out, is mostly made of small, ridiculous victories.
For months I thought nothing was happening because I was too scared to move. But writing this made me realise something uncomfortable: Scared Rhio wasn't completely stalling. She kept going while terrified. Maybe recovery isn’t waiting for Urgent Rhio to fix everything. Maybe it’s learning to collapse one wave function at a time.
Day four of my surplus wasn't to be... Again. I had the audacity to take iron to help my anaemia. Iron stops play. Oh the IRON-y
Absurd Universe 