selfcare

Be patient with yourself; nothing in nature blooms all year.

#MentalHealth #selfcare

Take time to rest so you're ready for the next day.

#MentalHealth #selfcare

I didn’t realize I was using self-care as a way to fix myself. Until I kept trying—and nothing ever stayed.

Trying to fix myself

For a long time, I genuinely thought that self-care was going to fix me. Like if I just found the right routine, the right flow, the right version of myself then things would start to feel easier. I thought that things would be more manageable, clearer, and more together.

So, I tried everything in the book. I bought journals, wrote out the routines, and told myself, this time I’m going to do it right. But it never stuck.

I remember one time being so motivated to really set a schedule and keep up with it. I was in my early twenties and back then, things seemed more capable and achievable. A friend and I set out to make our lives a little healthier by exercising regularly and cutting back on sugar. So, we joined a gym, made lighter meals, and leaned on one another for support.

We both made great improvements during our trips to the gym, eating better, and focusing on maintaining balance and clarity. I must say that exercise, even though I despise it at times, genuinely does improve your mood, your energy, and your mental health. But still, it wasn’t a routine or lifestyle that lasted very long.

Despite the progress and the mood shift, I just couldn’t keep up with it any longer. There was too much pressure I put on myself to go every day, eat the same things that didn’t fill my appetite, and just too much effort at the end of the day to keep doing a routine. It became tiring, mundane, and emotionally overwhelming.

I became very down on myself for not keeping up something that helped both my mind and my body. Why couldn’t I just make this a part of my lifestyle? Why couldn’t I just stick with something for once in my life? Plain and simple, I lost the gusto—the motivation to keep going and pushing through the discomfort of actually following through with the plans. My friend and I both stopped going about a month or so into it.

The thing is, I know that it would help me in the best way, but still I sat there frozen by the idea that this was what the rest of my life would look like. And that made me feel miserable. Truthfully, I hated the gym because of sensory issues. I hated eating smaller portions and nuts and berries all the time. I missed my old way of life, even if it wasn’t conducive.

The pattern I couldn’t escape

There have been so many times in my life where I would set out goals, hopes, passions and make them into something fruitful. But more often than not, nothing would work out the way that I intended. My routines always fell to the wayside after a few days. I guess I would just lose interest quickly. And I always felt this shame, this guilt for not being able to follow through on even the simplest of tasks.

I just remember being so excited to get out my journal and start writing out a structured routine to keep me on track. I’d highlight, color code, and make it look aesthetically appealing. But it often gathered dust on my desk for weeks, even months after. I just couldn’t follow through. It really did make me feel like something was wrong with me.

That I just didn’t have discipline, or consistency, or whatever it is people seem to naturally have. It wasn’t like I didn’t care. I cared a lot actually. I wanted to feel better, have more structure, and wanted to be someone who could follow through on the things I set out to do.

But every single time something didn’t stick, it felt like I was proving the same thing over and over again—that I just couldn’t get it right.

The shift

And that’s when something started to change for me. I had small realizations like… what if it wasn’t that I couldn’t stick to anything? What if I was trying to force myself into things that didn’t actually fit me?

Because when I look back, a lot of it didn’t feel natural.

The routines felt rigid. The expectations felt heavy. And the structure felt like pressure instead of support. And I was trying to push through all of that like that’s just what you’re supposed to do. Like if something is “good for you,” you just force yourself to do it no matter how it feels.

But it didn’t feel good. All of that pressure was actually working against me. Because every time I couldn’t keep up with it, I didn’t think, maybe this isn’t for me. I thought, I’m the problem.

And that’s what I’m starting to unlearn now. That just because something works for someone else doesn’t mean that it works for me. And just because something is labeled “self-care” doesn’t mean it actually feels like care.

What self-care looks like now

Now, self-care looks completely different.

For me, it’s not a routine I follow to the tee. It’s not something I stick to everyday. Not structured or aesthetic most of the time. It’s something I do when I can.

Some days I have more energy and some days I don’t. Some days I can cook something simple and feel okay. Other days when I’m overwhelmed, hungry, irritated, and standing in the kitchen with no capacity to decide, I just choose whatever feels easiest. I used to judge myself for that. For not trying hard enough. But now I see it differently.

Self-care is about choosing what feels manageable. It isn’t about pushing myself past the point where I know I’m going to shut down. It’s quieter than I thought it would be. It supports me in a way those routines never did.

I still have days where I overthink everything. Days where I feel off for no reason. Days where even the smallest things feel a heck of a lot harder than they should. But it helps me stay present in the moment I’m in. It helps me stay with myself instead of completely shutting down.

My self-care looks like

• Taking a walk outside, even if only for a few minutes, just to move a little and smell the fresh air. I stay indoors a lot, so going outside is something I need to do at least twice a day to help me feel a little more alive.

• Taking hot showers at night to soothe my aching muscles. I experience a lot of tension in my shoulders. It’s where all of my stress goes, and let me tell you, I’m stiff as a board. So I need something to release a bit of that pain.

• Organizing my desk at home. For me, I need tidiness and organization when it comes to writing. I need a clear space in front of me to let out the messiness inside of me. I write all the time, so it’s essentially my main form of self-care.

• Reading always helps me to calm my mind. Sometimes I feel pressure to read because friends and I read the same novel together, but I never force it. I let it come naturally when I feel like I’m in the mood for a good story.

• Light cooking helps me feel like myself again. Cooking has always been a passion, and a way for me to focus on something when my mind needs stillness. Making something simple yet creative makes me feel good about myself.

Small things like that are my self-care. Plain and simple. It’s what grounds me, and what makes me feel like myself. It might not be anything extravagant, but it’s tailored to my specific needs.

Conclusion

This is what helps me get through the day to day. And I no longer feel guilty that my self-care doesn’t look like my gym days. I feel more comfortable with the smaller aspects of what makes my life feel more manageable.

Because self-care didn’t fix everything. But it helps me stay.

What if self-care isn’t about fixing yourself, but about learning how to stay with yourself?

“You don’t have to fix everything to be okay.” — Unknown

#selfcare #MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #ADHD

Your mental health matters, even on the days it doesn’t feel like it.

#MentalHealth #selfcare #Recovery

Well-being is built through small choices that care for your mind and body.

#MentalHealth #selfcare #FamilyAndFriends

🌷 Choose to bloom 🌷

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#MentalHealth #classes #selfcare

What do you wish you could do more every day?

If there’s one thing I wish I could do more of every day, it’s practice more patience. I know it sounds a little off topic, but for me, the key to doing the things you enjoy every day starts with self-care. You have to feel mentally capable enough to follow through with daily activities. For me, that starts with patience—patience to get through each day without losing my composure.

I wish that I had more patience with people, with situations I can’t control, and honestly, with myself. Patience is the key to better self-care. It also tremendously helps my mental health.

Lately, I’ve been more impatient than usual. I’ve recognized that I’m more irritable, more vocal, and more on edge. I have a difficult time controlling my reactions when I feel overwhelmed.

A Recent Experience

I went to get blood work done the other day. I’d made an appointment, so I assumed it would be a simple in-and-out. But when I walked into the waiting room, it was flooded with people. I became overwhelmed and overstimulated very quickly, and it led to anger and frustration.

Some people were taking too long to register and sign in, so I stood behind them, mumbling and asking if they needed help. I think I even muttered, “This is ridiculous.” Looking back, I know I should’ve shown more patience. Everyone had to wait too, not just me. But in that moment, I couldn’t help but verbally express my irritability.

There was no seating, so I stood by the door waiting to be called, just watching all the patients ahead of me. I can get very vocal if people are called before me, especially if I know it should be my turn.

Being More Vocal

Being vocal about things is something new to me. Usually, I’m very quiet and shy, but lately, I’ve realized that I’m starting to care less about what other people think of me. If I’m feeling a certain way, I’ll make it known.

I think the real issue here is that people genuinely stress me out. I’ve always felt very uncomfortable and intimidated by others. I think it’s because of my sensitivity and my worries of rejection or judgment. Truthfully, I sometimes say that I don’t like people, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I respect everyone I come across unless they give me a reason to react. I’ve always just wanted to be likeable and accepted. It all really stems from my mind and my insecurities.

I’ve noticed that when I get angry at others, it’s because I have underlying issues with my self-esteem and confidence. At the end of the day, it isn’t the people—it’s the way I treat myself.

What I Want for Myself

I don’t want to be angry and frustrated every time I leave the house. I don’t want every outing to feel like something I have to brace myself for. The thing I want most is to feel more comfortable going places without feeling so anxious, irritable, or overwhelmed.

I want to go to the park for a walk, go out to eat, and spend time with friends—typical everyday activities that I want to enjoy. I want to do normal things without feeling so on edge the entire time.

Why Patience Matters

That’s why I keep thinking about patience. I think having more of it would help me do the things I want to do without feeling like I’m constantly ready to snap. It would help me breathe before I react. It would help me slow down before frustration takes over.

To me, patience is a virtue. It isn’t about pretending to be fine when I’m not. It isn’t about forcing myself to be agreeable. It’s about making space between what I feel and how I respond.

I know I’m not going to get it right every time. There will still be long waits, loud places, rude people, and moments that push me over the edge. But I’m realizing that patience isn’t just something I need for other people. It’s something I need for myself too.

And right now, I think that’s something I need more of.

What’s one area of your life where a little more patience could bring you more peace?

“Patience is not the ability to wait, but the ability to keep a good attitude while waiting.” — Joyce Meyer

#MentalHealth #selfcare #Neurodiversity #ADHD #AutismSpectrumDisorder

There’s a kind of exhaustion that doesn’t always look like exhaustion. It doesn’t always look like tears, canceled plans, or staying in bed all day. Sometimes it looks like getting up anyway, getting into your daily routine, and handling tasks and responsibilities. Doing everything while internally feeling like you’re slowly drowning.

For me, I became very good at appearing “fine.” On the outside, people probably see someone quiet, reserved, and a little shy. Someone calm enough. Someone who kept to herself. But what they didn’t see was how much energy I was expending to look that way.

People don’t see the constant overthinking, anxiety, sensory overwhelm, or emotional heaviness I carried underneath. They didn’t see how often I was smiling while feeling completely disconnected inside.

The Girl Who Learned to Hide

Before I understood that I was neurodivergent, I thought my sensitivity, emotional reactivity, and constant overwhelm were things to be ashamed of. I believed it was unacceptable to be so emotionally fragile. So I learned to adapt, to blend in, and to perform “fine.” But that performance was exhausting.

I remember a time when I tried immensely to stay hidden. In first grade, there was a classmate who constantly teased me. He followed me around calling me names, and sometimes he got physical, pushing me, grabbing me, even once holding scissors threateningly near my eyes. It was terrifying and hurtful.

One day, he took it too far. I had left the classroom to use the bathroom, and when I returned, he was standing outside the door. He had been disruptive in class, so the teacher asked him to step outside for a few minutes—but he refused to let me in. I tried to push past him, but he blocked the door.

I became so frustrated that I had a meltdown and screamed for the teacher. The last thing I wanted was to cause a scene, but I felt trapped and unsafe. Eventually, I went to the principal’s office to make a complaint. To my surprise, he was pulled out of school.

On his last day, he publicly apologized. Though his apology was kind, it left me feeling painfully exposed. I felt visible in a way I had worked so hard to avoid. My face flushed, my heart raced, my body went numb—I completely shut down. I had revealed too much of myself: the crying, the fear, the insecurities, all laid bare. The experience left me emotionally drained, and I knew I needed to find ways to hide parts of myself to survive.

That moment, more than any other, taught me how to mask, how to tuck away emotions and reactions, and how to perform “okay” even when I was anything but. It was a survival skill, but one that came at a cost: quiet exhaustion that no one could see. That pattern of hiding would follow me well into adulthood, shaping how I navigated everything from school to work to relationships.

The Caregiver’s Layer

Being a caregiver adds another layer to this hidden exhaustion.

When someone depends on you, you don’t get to fall apart when you need to. Meals, appointments, medication, and emotional support all keep moving. There have been days when I feel maxed out before the day even begins, but I still have to keep going.

Every day takes a lot out of me. I work as my mom’s caregiver, which makes this exhaustion feel even more personal and emotionally heavy. She is nearly bedridden and requires constant care—not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. I’ve essentially become her therapist, comforting her, encouraging her to stay positive, and helping her push through each day. It takes an immense amount of energy to support someone else when you are quietly struggling yourself.

From the outside, I might look strong, composed, and ready for anything. But truthfully, I am falling apart.

When “I’m Fine” Isn’t Fine

For years, I used the phrase “I’m just tired” to explain almost everything. But often what I really meant was this: I was overwhelmed, emotionally drained, and desperately in need of quiet and rest.

I’m trapped in my mind all the time—thinking about everything and nothing at once. It’s like moving through an emotional fog too thick to find a way out.

Recently, I traveled to Portland to spend time with friends. Every day was filled with one activity after another, so it was constant go, go, go. Friends kept asking if I was okay, probably because my face told a different story than my actions. The whole time, I was keeping my cool, masking, pretending to be “fine.” But inside, I was mentally spent—collapsed in every way that mattered, even while my feet stayed on the ground. I wasn’t “fine.” I was tired, irritable, and constantly tense. What I truly needed was rest.

That trip reminded me that looking “fine” is not the same as feeling fine, and that my own well-being must come first, even when life keeps moving.’

Listening to Yourself

These days, I’m learning to listen to myself sooner—before full shutdown, before numbness, before burnout.

Recently, I went to see a friend’s band play. The show was great—their music always resonates with me—but the small venue and crowded space quickly heightened my anxiety. Afterward, we went to a bar and grill, but I was so exhausted that I left early, honoring what my mind and body were telling me: rest is necessary, not optional.

I notice when everything feels too loud, when small tasks feel heavy, and when I say “I’m fine” too quickly. I’m learning that just because I can push through something doesn’t mean I should.

The Quiet Kind of Healing

When invisible exhaustion creeps in, I try to return to what feels safe:

stepping away from noise

letting myself be quiet

eating something warm and comforting

watching a familiar show

journaling

allowing myself to do less without feeling guilty

If you’re someone who looks okay on the outside while quietly carrying more than most people realize, your exhaustion is still real. Just because you are functioning does not mean you are not struggling. Some of the most exhausted people are the ones who have become the most practiced at hiding it.

The healing begins when you stop pretending harder or pushing yourself harder. It’s found when you finally start telling yourself the truth.

When was the last time you paused to check in with yourself instead of pushing through? What does your ‘hidden exhaustion’ look like?

“Sometimes the strongest people are the ones who smile through silent pain, cry behind closed doors, and fight battles nobody knows about.” – Unknown

#MentalHealth #selfcare #ADHD #AutismSpectrumDisorder #Neurodiversity #Anxiety