Step four: How to help yourself

We often find it easier to help others, but when it comes to helping ourselves we can’t help but feel guilty.

Is it the guilt of self indulgence? Or is it just because we don’t think we need any help?
I thought I’d help myself by starting therapy. I have to say, I feel liberated after my first ever CBT review. I can’t believe I actually liked counselling. I can’t believe I actually booked an appointment for the review. But most importantly, I’m in shock that I took the second step in helping myself.

All it takes is a phone call. Whether you’ve been glaring at the phone for the past ten minutes, or you’re standing outside of the doctors, dubious to even open the door. It only takes thirty seconds of courage to taking that step. You shouldn’t feel like you don’t deserve thirty minutes of a doctors time, they are there to help you, not the other way round.

You can help yourself in other ways too, this is where the self-indulgence part comes in.
Fill up your bath with a cocktail of salts and radox, or whatever floats your boat. Then; relax, indulge and just be selfish for thirty minutes a day (at least). It is possible to put yourself above others and be selfless at the same time, it’s all about finding a reasonable balance between the two. Commit to what you are physically and mentally capable of doing, otherwise you’ll find that you’re helping everyone else but yourself.

You need looking after too!

Sorry for neglecting all of you!

I will be writing another ‘step’ (it’s been so long!) tomorrow. So feast your eyes on the next ‘How to help yourself’.

I have a truck load of uni work to finish beforehand, so for you late-night dwellers, put aside a few minutes around the hours of midnight.

I look forward to your views, likes or comments 🙂

just a random picture from the summer (that I so dearly miss)

just a random picture from the summer (that I so dearly miss)

Portrait of a painful memory

She painted her skin
with the brush of a knife
the fibres so sharp
it could end her life

She looked at her masterpiece
And sighed in a whim
The oozing crimson
Trickled down, past her shin

Then she glared at the lines
that the paintbrush had traced
She’s ashamed of her work
She’s ashamed she resisted
It’s a terrible mess
I told her, it won’t last forever
You’ll be free someday
I promised
She wept
Then she painted one last picture
And away
She swept