A Hanmade Life

  After two months of waiting, I finally got to see my nephew. I hadn’t seen him since he was just a few days old, and now he’s a proper little person with expressions and opinions—including, apparently, the opinion that sleep is overrated. Why the delay? Well, while I was working, there was a chance I’d been exposed to TB. And with him being a newborn, we didn’t want to risk it. Long story short: I wasn’t exposed, all clear, and finally able to visit without feeling like a walking biohazard. I made a lasagne (because nothing says “I love you” like pasta and cheese) and headed over to my sister’s house. It was lovely catching up, seeing everyone, and finally getting some cuddles in—though my nephew had other plans. The moment I arrived, he decided sleep was cancelled. I tried to soothe him, but after a few minutes of squirming and fussing, I handed him back to his mum like a hot potato. Some things are best left to the professionals. Later, I collected my niece from school, which m...

  Today was a cleaning day. I went full domestic mode; wiping, dusting, organising, and making sure everything was spik and span. Well… almost everything. I didn’t get round to mopping or hoovering, but let’s not get caught up in technicalities. The flat looks fresh, and that’s what counts. After all that effort, I treated myself to a hot bath, the kind that makes you question whether you’re slowly boiling or just deeply relaxed. It was lovely. This whole “no work” thing? Surprisingly decent. I actually get to enjoy the flat I pay for, rather than just sleep in it and trip over laundry on the way to the kettle. Still no word from the job I interviewed for. I’m in that weird limbo where silence could mean anything. So I’ve decided to assume I didn’t get it. That way, if I do, it’ll be a pleasant surprise. And if I don’t, I’ll already be emotionally prepared. It’s a win-win. Sort of. For now, I’m clean, calm, and mildly unemployed. Not the worst way to spend a Monday.

  This weekend’s activities included: lying in bed, clutching a hot water bottle like it was my emotional support pet, and consuming enough snacks to feed a small village. Why, you ask? That delightful monthly visitor—aka the time of the month—decided to show up and ruin everything. The first couple of days are always the worst. Painful, foggy, and completely unproductive. Functioning? Not on the cards. I spent most of the time horizontal, wrapped in blankets, popping paracetamol like they were breath mints and wondering if junk food counts as a coping mechanism (spoiler: it does). I didn’t leave the house. I didn’t do anything remotely useful. But I survived. And sometimes, that’s enough. Here’s to better days, less cramping, and maybe a salad at some point to balance out the snack mountain. Or not. No promises.

  Today marks the first day of the rest of my life. I’m free. Free and unemployed. And strangely… I’m less stressed now than I was when I had a job. Go figure. There’s something about walking away from a role that drained you dry that makes even financial uncertainty feel like a breath of fresh air. My savings will be doing the heavy lifting for now. If they tap out, I’ll have to flirt with my credit card—which I’d really rather not do. But for today, I’m choosing peace over panic. I feel lighter. Like someone’s taken a backpack full of bricks off my shoulders. That job was intense, and not in a “wow I’m growing” kind of way—more like “how is this legal for the pay?” kind of way. I may have gone full truth-teller in my exit interview. And now I may be realising I’ll probably need a reference from them at some point. Oops. Hopefully they’ll remember me as “the honest one” and not “the one who roasted us on the way out.” Anyway, no regrets. I chose me. I chose sanity. And I’m choosin...

  Today was my last day at work. After a week and a half on sick leave, I had to go in to hand over my equipment and do the dreaded exit interview. And let me tell you, I did not hold back. I said everything I needed to say. The organisation does important work, no doubt about that, but things need to change. The frontline staff turnover is wild. I lasted two and a half months, and I’m not exactly allergic to hard work. But for the pay? It was next-level impossible. Hopefully they’ll take the feedback on board before hiring someone else. Everyone deserves a job that doesn’t chew them up and spit them out, preferably one with a bit of work/life balance. After the interview, I just wanted to sneak out. I hate goodbyes. But of course, when I went to hand in my equipment, everyone was in the office. Worst-case scenario for my anxiety. I felt ambushed… until I saw the flowers. Two bunches. And a card. Cue the tears. I didn’t cry when I left my last job after nearly three years, but this...

  Today was interview day. I spent the morning as a full-blown ball of nerves rolling around the flat, getting increasingly anxious, and questioning every life choice that led me to this moment. My interview was at 1:30pm (yes, the awkward time where lunch is a gamble), and thankfully it was via Teams. No need to wear shoes or pretend I know how to navigate office corridors. In a moment of optimism, I stuck a few helpful notes to my screen. Key facts, values, reminders. Did I look at them? Absolutely not. They were decorative at best—like motivational bunting for my anxiety. The interview came in three parts: a basic computer assessment (which I didn’t cry during, so that’s a win), a telephone assessment (where I tried not to sound like I was reading from a cereal box), and the actual interview with proper questions. Surprisingly… I think it went well. Which is worrying. Because historically, when I think I’ve flopped, I get the job. And when I think I’ve nailed it, I don’t. So now...

  Tomorrow I have an interview. Naturally, I’ve left the prep until the last possible moment because, let’s be honest, nothing stays in my brain unless it’s under pressure. It’s either last-minute or not at all. I did the responsible thing and looked at their website. Read the About Us section. Tried to absorb their values. Even attempted to memorise a few key phrases. Filed at that. My brain took one look and said, “Nope, we’re full.” So now I’m relying on experience, instinct, and the hope that I won’t freeze like a startled squirrel when they ask me something deep and meaningful. Anxiety is hovering like an uninvited guest, but I’m trying not to let it take over. If all else fails, I’ll smile, nod, and hope they appreciate authenticity over perfectly rehearsed answers. Here’s to showing up, doing my best, and maybe remembering one useful fact from their website.

Being on sick leave has its perks,mainly the freedom to clean the flat in pyjamas while pretending I’m in a music video. I figured if I’m not well enough for work, I might as well be productive in other ways.  After a full day of domestic achievement, I rewarded myself with a self-care evening. Candles, skincare, and a bath so hot it nearly boiled me alive.  Not every day needs to be groundbreaking. Sometimes, it’s enough to clean your space, sing badly, and soak until your worries dissolve.

  This weekend was mostly quiet. I gave myself permission to do very little, and I took that permission very seriously. Resting felt good—until I nearly forgot an old colleague’s birthday. At 8pm, my brain did a dramatic “oh no” and I scrambled to send a message that said Happy Birthday! with just enough enthusiasm to mask the lateness.  I also had my first counselling session. And, as it turns out, my last. It was a phone call less than 20 minutes long. I’m not sure what I expected, but it felt more like a customer service check-in than a deep emotional dive. She seemed satisfied. I, on the other hand, felt like I’d just skimmed the surface of a very full inbox of feelings. Can anything be sorted in 20 minutes? In my opinion, no. But at least I tried. That’s something.

It’s been a full week since I left work, and yesterday I went to the doctor. He confirmed something I’ve always known but never had written down: I have anxiety. I’ve never liked labels. Maybe that’s why I avoided getting a diagnosis for so long. I’ve managed it fine over the years until this last job came along and turned the volume up to max. The stress was relentless! Nothing like a daily dose of dread to start your morning. Hearing it officially “You have anxiety” felt strange. Not shocking, just… formal. Like someone finally stamped a name on something I’ve been quietly carrying. I didn’t need the title to know how it feels, but maybe now I can start figuring out what helps. I’m hoping there’s light at the end of the tunnel. For now, I’m taking things one day at a time. 

   Yesterday I handed in my notice. It still feels surreal like I’ve cracked open a door to something unknown, and now I’m standing in the threshold wondering what comes next. Today, though, I felt... flat. Motivation nowhere to be found. I kept thinking, “I should be doing something,” but couldn’t quite figure out what. So I did something I’ve never done before: I called a counselling service. In my naive little brain, I imagined someone picking up and saying, “Hello, emotional support hotline, how may we fix you today?” But no, of course, it doesn’t work like that. I’m booked in for Sunday, and I’m trying not to overthink it. I’ve never spoken to a counsellor before, and part of me is nervous. But mostly, I’m hopeful. This feels like a small but important step. Not just towards better mental health, but towards being kinder to myself in the messy middle of change. Here’s to Sunday. And here’s to trying.

So…I quit my job. Yep. Just walked away. Okay, not literally walked away, I handed in my notice like a responsible adult. But still, I’m done. Now, when I say finally quit , it makes it sound like I’d been there for years suffering in silence. Reality check: I lasted two and a half months. TWO. AND. A. HALF. MONTHS. The role was so stressful, and instead of getting better with time, it only made my anxiety worse. I had to make a choice: my job or my health. And this time, I chose my health. I chose me . Do I know what I’m doing next? Nope. Not a clue. Am I panicking? Shockingly… no. For once, I feel kind of at peace. Like, I can actually sit down, breathe, and not feel like I’m being chased by my inbox. That said, I do have an interview next week. So maybe future-me will have it all together. Or maybe I’ll be back here saying, “Welp, that didn’t work either.” Stay tuned. Wish me luck!

  Still did nothing today. It’s like I have no energy or willpower to do anything. Depression? Maybe. Laziness? Also maybe. I did manage one productive thing though: I went to the post office to return clothes that (shock horror) didn’t fit me. Of course, I left it till the very last day, so really I had no choice but to go. Naturally, going out came with consequences… I ended up buying junk food on the way home. Regrets? Possibly. Delicious? Absolutely. Tomorrow’s aim - act like I have my life together (even a little).

I called in sick today. Stress from work finally got to me, and I ended up blubbering down the phone to my manager first thing this morning. I’d gone to bed after 2am, but still had to wake up early just to make that call - peak irony 😒 Once it was done, I crashed back into bed and slept most of the day away. All the things I thought I might do… I didn’t - shocker.  Turns out being emotionally and physically drained isn’t exactly a productivity hack. Anyway, today was a flop. Tomorrow we attempt life again.