Skip to main content

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

July and August have allowed for muchos reflection due to a) lots of time on my own and b) lots and nothing has simultaneously happened.

Two particular and very recent events have made me realise how, well, adult I am. One occasion being totally and completely happy (yay, happiness!) and has just generally given me a grand old boost. Without going into it too much this even has given me a lot to smile about (I think I scare people I walk past in the street with my smiling antics... but that's nothing new) and I hope it will continue to have an impact on my life in some way or another.

The other event is somewhat sad; it has made me realise that I'm the certain person who now knows adult people as friends and sometimes crappy, awful, sad things happen to them. (I'm so coherent and not vague, aren't I?) This person had a role in my primary school years and he was just a joy, a complete joy. I guess sometimes you have a shock like that to ground you a little bit and appreciate things, especially things like the previous event I mentioned.

(I'm sure you're loving the vagueness here...)

I've also been single for just over two years now and that date passing made me have a look at things and remember what I was like then, and how I am now. I came up with a completely cliche and awful metaphor for breakups; a person is like a jigsaw and they're all together and stuff and suddenly this event scatters them. Which is crap and yuck and boooo hiiissss. They begin picking themselves up by forcing themselves to do things and just get the heck on with it (totally talking about nearly 17yo me here) and then you suddenly are a put-together jigsaw again. But ALAS! you're missing a piece - sometimes it's a bigger piece, sometimes a smaller one. But it generally goes that it's not an important structural one so you can plod along. Then sometimes you get a new jigsaw-friend come along and they're missing pieces too (who isn't?!) and LOOK you have similar pieces so you can bond over that and, hey, you still have those holes but (yay) they don't hurt anymore.

It really does make sense in my head, but probably not written down. (My brain is mush.)

Reflection is good. Stepping back and looking at you, like properly looking at yourself can be good. Sometimes it takes another person to realise that, yeah, you're actually okay. Sometimes it just takes time and yourself to get used to that hole and suddenly you're you again.


Popular posts from this blog

Just Dietary Things | Eating Gluten and Dairy Free

Around a month ago, my boyfriend and I pootled into Pizza Hut and I said "ooh go on then" and had lovely, lovely cheese on my gluten free pizza.

Three years ago in May I was diagnosed coeliac, and since my diagnosis I have never had an "ooh go on then moment" because I know the dire consequences it can have on my body. Every day, I swallow calcium, vitamin D, B12 and ranitidine tablets in an effort to keep my bones and body healthy. Everywhere I go, I look at labels and folders of ingredient information. Being coeliac is something I'm used to now, but it's taken me a year to solidly give up lactose (and I'm still not 100% sure I'll last Christmas...).

The day after my Pizza Hut escapade, I was sick. Slowly over the last year of being lactose free on and off, my reaction to lactose has worsened. My stomach doesn't like food very much (even if my mouth and brain do!) and I often feel sick after eating, but lactose made that significantly worse. As…

Breathing: Intergalactic Style

As I sit here with vaguely glittery handy, my body smelling of vetivert, cedarwood and peppermint I remember that I need to take my own advice more. As I have repeated on countless occasions here (and, honestly, anywhere I can), growing up can be tough. Add hormones and period cramps to the mix and you have the lovely, wonderful result being-on-the-brink-of-tears-for-no-reason. Though trivial and very much not the worst thing in the world, I very much do appreciate ways to avoid feeling like this; especially when weekends have become so precious - time to spend with my boyfriend, reading, and - well - just out and about during daylight hours at the moment.

So what did I do this evening? I finally plugged up the courage to see if the plug I bought for my bath in my shared house (do you like my pun... I'm hilarious) fits and well, if it fits, I sits. I have yet to delve further into the Lush bathbomb treasure troves, but I decided tonight was the night I was going to use Intergalact…

This is my Metamorphosis

Yes, it is that time again. Claire is feeling low-key-stressed so she submerges herself in water. In actual fact, normally I get to a stage a high-key-stress before getting into the tub - this time, I only have access to a bath for 2 more weeks (due to moving... for the third time in a year) so I thought I'd make the most of my local Lush.

A while ago I spotted Metamorphosis and asked the member of staff to show us what it did (she gave us pick of the store). Now... I love the smell of this bath bomb (my bathroom and skin slightly smell of that lovely concoction of scents). The wow-factor was less impressive with this one. Which leads me to the questions: is that always an imperative for a successful bath bomb? Does it have to look absolutely beautiful, or can the warmth and smells lull you to a sense of happiness only a bath can achieve?

The fact that I would definitely buy Metamorphosis again, says "no, the prettiness doesn't matter", but I loved the smell and that…