And then there are days like today, where I feel like I’m running on 17% battery, my kitchen smells vaguely like bleach and disappointment, and I’ve cried at an advert for dishwasher tablets.
It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s soft life now. With a side of mild emotional collapse.
But here’s the thing—I’ve realised lately that romanticising your life isn’t about waiting for everything to be perfect. It’s not about beige sofas, morning yoga, or journalling with a £40 pen. It’s about finding tiny things that make you feel like you’re still here. Still trying. Still you.
For me, it’s been:
- Making protein iced coffee like I’m auditioning for a Scandinavian lifestyle reel.
- Cleaning the kitchen with a Fabulosa spray that smells suspiciously like designer perfume and pretending I’m in a montage about getting my life back together.
- Putting on trousers that aren’t actively offensive.
- Playing music while I cook and convincing myself I’m the main character in a TikTok video no one will ever see.
- Sitting with a cat (or five) and whispering “you’re the only one who understands me” like it’s completely normal.
It’s ridiculous. And it’s keeping me afloat.
I don’t have any grand insights. No big life lesson to tie it up in a bow. I just know that on the days I feel slightly broken, the answer isn’t always to fix everything. Sometimes, it’s to romanticise the mess.
To find beauty in a quiet five minutes.
To make your kitchen smell like Winter Angel and call it therapy.
To light a wax melt and pretend it’s emotional progress.
And if that’s where you are too, then just know—you’re not alone. You’re not failing. You’re just human. Possibly hormonal. And doing your best.
And honestly, that’s more than enough.
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