Last night, just before drifting to sleep, my eyes wandered across the room and fell upon my Nintendo Switch, lying carelessly near the laundry basket, its screen kissed by a delicate layer of light dust. In that quiet moment, I realised it had been nearly a year since I’d last played it, since I’d last lost myself in its pixelated realms. The newest Zelda game, a gift from my boyfriend for my birthday last year, still waited patiently for me to begin our journey [I LOVES me some Zelda, okay?].

During the stillness of Lockdown a few years ago, my Nintendo Switch had been my refuge. Not a day passed without me retreating into its whimsical embrace, spending hours in fantastical worlds where I could escape. I would conquer lands, battle evil wizards, and embark on whimsical side quests, all while the world outside melted into the background. Video games were my escape, a sanctuary of self-care I had unknowingly deserted.

With a tender nostalgia, I picked up the console, brushed away the dust, and let the familiar thrills of Mario Kart guide me into sleep.

Self-care, along with the act of checking in with myself, had always been a landscape I struggled to navigate. Despite my best efforts to journal and meditate, I’ve never quite mastered the art of it. As my own harshest critic, a part of me fears that turning inward will only illuminate the sometimes-darkness where I feel I’m falling short. To check in with myself means to confront the mirror of my emotional and mental state, to evaluate the places where I fall short. And as someone who finds solace in the constant motion of ‘flight’ (confrontation is not one of my strengths), the idea of facing myself, in all my complexities—whether good or bad—has always seemed a daunting journey.

So here I am, making a conscious effort to hold myself accountable. This year has been a tapestry of highs and lows, woven with moments that have challenged and inspired me. My thoughts have been consumed by the upcoming release of my book, along with other cool projects on the horizon. So, it’s understandable why I’ve been slightly occupied.

I’ve found my rhythm at the gym, so checking in with my body has come easier; it’s the mental and emotional corridors that remain harder to navigate. Yet, in this moment, I’m trying to honour the need to pause and reflect, to tend to the parts of myself that often go unnoticed in the rush of it all.

What will ‘checking in’ look like?

• Deep breathing every now and again, especially before bedtime
• Tuning into my body and understanding that my body is always communicating. It’ll often send physical cues about how I’m feeling long before my emotions will begin to register.
• Asking myself check-in questions. I’m compassionate to a fault, to everyone except myself, so this one may be a bit trickier to navigate as it requires self-kindness – something I can sometimes lack if I’m having a bad week. I’ll ask myself questions like: ‘Am I feeling well?’, ‘How can I be more kind to myself?’, ‘Do I feel like I’m growing? In what ways?’, ‘Am I feeling anxious or stressed? Why?’, ‘What am I grateful for?’.
• Practicing self-care. I’ll be honest, I would feel no way if I never saw the word ‘wellness’ again. It’s become a bit of a marketing gimmick over the last couple of years by brands in order to either sell us super-expensive things we don’t need, or as a cover for the diet and health industry that thrives on fatphobia. But, I need to start finding joy in things that make me feel happy.

Below is a list of things I like, and things I’d love to take up again. I also need to try and find joy in activities that don’t involve my work, or content in any way. I’m missing joy at the moment, and I’d like to find my way back to that again:

• Reading
• Travelling
• Playing video games
• Singing
• I’d love to wall-climb
• Strength training
• Going for lunch with friends
• Photography
• Travel
• I’d love to take up archery or axe throwing
• I’d like to learn how to crochet