📸 Liverpool, captured by me in 2014 during my “hyper real” photography era—back when everything had to look like it was about to be featured on the cover of a dystopian graphic novel. Still stunning, though.

There comes a point when you’ve stared at the algorithm for too long, cried into your coffee one too many times, and realised the only thing left to do is pack a suitcase and romanticise your life like you’re in a British Netflix original.

So that’s what I’m doing.

Liverpool First: A City With Edge (and Hopefully Less Rain Than Last Time)

The adventure begins in Liverpool a city that’s all music, magic, and unapologetic character. I’ll be there from Wednesday through Saturday, soaking up the atmosphere, the architecture, and possibly trying (again) to ride the infamous duck boat that sank the last time I tried. It’s me vs. mildly cursed tourism, round two.

I’m going First Class on the way there, because if I’m going to spiral about the algorithm, I might as well do it with complimentary snacks and extra legroom. Main character priorities.

Then: Off to Cheltenham Spa (Where I Will Become Cottagecore)

On Saturday, I trade Scouse chaos for Cotswold calm and head to Cheltenham Spa. This is where the linen trousers come out. The gentle walks. The overpriced jam I absolutely don’t need but will definitely buy.

I’ve always imagined the Cotswolds as the kind of place where you write your memoir, fall in love with a goat farmer, or rediscover your inner peace next to a 400-year-old tree. So obviously, I had to go.

The only problem? Saturday’s travel involves two standard class train journeys. I know. I’m already emotionally preparing myself. Unless, of course, the Seatfrog fairies come through and I’m whisked into First Class like the exhausted icon I am.

Why I’m Doing This Now

This isn’t just a holiday. It’s a reset. A deliberate step away from TikTok turmoil and into something that feels more like me. I’ve been running on fumes lately, constantly creating, chasing numbers, and trying to survive another algorithm shift.

So I’m choosing joy. Slow mornings. Soft trousers. Train snacks. Towns that look like postcards. And a little bit of unbothered peace, wherever I can find it.

What’s Coming Up

I’ll be documenting it all, probably in a very “here’s me, blurry, holding a pastry in front of a historic building” kind of way. Expect TikToks, Instagram reels, the odd storytime, and definitely an update on whether I finally got on that duck boat, spoiler alert, it doesn't exist anymore but there's a replacement submersible that doesn't actually sink.

Because sometimes, the only way to fix your for-you-page existential crisis is to leave your house and go be someone else for a while.

And I choose to be someone who gets First Class on the way there and back—and just pretends Saturday isn’t happening.

The Greatest Lie We Tell Ourselves

 

The greatest lie we tell ourselves? “Just one more thing, and life will be perfect.”

For years, I believed if I just had more money, I’d finally be happy. Or if I could just be thinner, everything would magically fall into place. Spoiler: I got richer. I got thinner. And guess what? My mental health still packed its bags and went on a little holiday without me.

Here’s the reality when you live with chronic mental health issues: there’s no magic fix. No scented candle strong enough, no bubble bath deep enough, no vision board powerful enough to chemically rewire your brain. Even with medication, self-care rituals, and my best attempts at being positive (insert slightly sarcastic jazz hands here), there are still days when my mind decides to take me on a journey I absolutely did not sign up for.

Yesterday, for example, my health anxiety took me straight to “You’re definitely having a heart attack and going to die before lunchtime”—a direct route from mild discomfort to full existential crisis in under five minutes. My anxious brain doesn’t do maths properly; it takes two and two and somehow makes six… and then throws in a bonus catastrophe for fun.

And here’s where it gets complicated. I long for a peaceful life where nothing changes and everything feels safe and predictable. But also? I would hate that. Give me the gentle pace, but please don’t tell me exactly what’s around the corner. This is the neurodivergent contradiction I live with every single day. ADHD and autism together mean my brain departments aren’t exactly… collaborating. It’s less a high-functioning office and more a chaotic open-plan nightmare where everyone’s shouting and no one’s sent the memo.

So, we take it one day at a time. Some days the world feels like it’s falling down around us. But even on those days, we have to remind ourselves—this isn’t the end of the story. Tomorrow is still waiting. And while I’m under no illusion that I’ll live to 101 (though wouldn’t that be a dramatic plot twist?), I can try to make peace with the life I have now.

Some days will be a write-off. And that’s okay. On those days, be kind to yourself. Sit under the blanket. Re-watch your favourite comfort film for the fifteenth time. Eat the snack. Ignore the productivity police in your head.

Because here’s the hard truth—they’ll replace you at work before you’re even cold. You are entirely replaceable to them. But to you? You’re irreplaceable. You’re all you’ve got.

So fill your own cup first. Love yourself like you’re the most important person in the room—because you are.

I love you. And I hope—truly—that you are loved. But even if the world feels quiet today, remember this: you are enough.