Not a Wellness Plan. Just What Helped. Eventually.

Image: A woman sits with her notebook and coffee, writing relevations after therapy.

At some point, I stopped searching for solutions and just started noticing what made me feel slightly less awful. Like standing still, tidying a drawer or crying during that podcast episode about the killer whale that had starred in Free Willy.

Since I’ve been sharing the strange thaw that is healing from burnout, it feels right to talk about what helped me.

And most of these things I started, abandoned, forgot, rolled my eyes at, and eventually returned to days, weeks, sometimes months later. Because they helped eventually. They’re embarrassingly ordinary, which is perhaps why they worked. So let’s just put them out there.

One Hour a Week, and Everything Around It
Therapy mattered. Of course it did. An hour a week to unspool four decades of tension tucked into my shoulders. But it was everything around that hour that shifted me. The walk there and back. The half hour over coffee afterwards, sitting with whatever had surfaced and writing it down. Scribbling “that was hard” or “my body aches this morning” in a notebook. That small pocket of inward focus made space and when you’re running on empty, space is a miracle.

What Once Worked
I kept doing the things that used to help. There is always something in your arsenal. The gym, twice a week to remind myself I had muscles. Walks, or more like stubborn plods.
I went to the market, bought tomatoes, made a salad. Or really great toast with something vaguely nutritious. Or that rice and lentil thing I messed up three times. Didn’t matter. The point was I exercised and fed myself and that counted for something.

The Reassurance of Small, Repeated Things
Making the bed in the morning. With “I know how to do this” care, and hospital corners and decorative pillows. Keeping my space tidy and functional. Folding the meaningfully. The act of choosing rest. Early sleep despite protestations of ex-boyfriends, and 8–9 hours as standard to allow my mind to reset. This is the basic maintenance required when running on fumes.

Stillness, Without Earning It
Rest was hardest. Doing nothing without guilt felt almost impossible at first. Sitting still without trying to improve or optimise or solve. Just breathing or meditating, letting the thoughts pass by like buses I wasn’t boarding. The voice that told me I was lazy? I named her. Stella. Stella had opinions. Not all of them helpful. Some days I told her to bugger off, other days, we negotiated.

Relearning the Basics (Again and Again)
Some days it took three tries to write a one-line email. Some days it felt like a miracle just to pick a jumper and get out the door. Even my writing had gone back to the shapes that my 10 year old self used to make and I had to carefully start to craft letters and words anew. I had to rediscover the basics as small decisions I could practise without grading myself.

One Tiny Thing
Some days, the win was tiny. A text to a friend. Standing in the garden. Booking the appointment I’d been ignoring. Any small task that reconnected me to the world. I didn’t need to feel better to act I just needed to move slightly in the direction of life.

Following the No
When people offered advice, freelance gigs, new jobs, more of the same, I noticed the no in my gut. It was clear and led me somewhere new.

A Tug
Hiring a business coach was when I looked ahead instead of just trying to stay upright. What came from my sessions with Claire was a tug rather than a bolt of inspiration. That tug led to health and to coaching and to the two together.
I didn’t overhaul my life overnight, I studied for a few hours a week and eventually started a business for a few hours more. I noticed when it energised me and when it didn’t. I started working with that energy instead of punishing it for not being consistent.

All of Me, Even the Not So Classy Bits
Recovery also meant making peace with the parts of me I’d tried to squash: the restless one, the irritable one, the one who wants things to be better yesterday.
I wasn’t trying to become some endlessly calm, endlessly grateful version of myself I just sought a version that could hold space for all of it.

Rediscovering Beauty
Beauty returned in the curve of my handwriting, the shape of my smile, the spark behind my laugh. It lived in the warmth of my immense hugs, the giving pulse of my soul, and the sharp clarity of my mind learning to trust itself again.

Gentleness
Looking back, the only thing that truly worked was gentleness, not revolutions or hacks. The boring stuff carried more weight than it let on. Stretching, stepping into sunlight, breathing through panic, one inhale at a time. Letting myself try to get that thing done on Friday at 4:52pm. Not one single checklist. Just a willingness to keep returning to things that help, even though you forgot about it yesterday and even though you know you’ll forget it again tomorrow.