Relaxation and I have never been on speaking terms. Having OCD means my brain doesn’t come with an off switch — more like a faulty smoke alarm that goes off at the faintest hint of “rest.” The second I sit down to unwind, my mind decides it’s time to replay every awkward conversation I’ve ever had and create a detailed five-year plan I never asked for.
It’s… exhausting. But every so often, I get the not-so-subtle signal from my brain that it’s time to hit pause. So, I have a few tried-and-tested rituals that help me unwind (or at least pretend to).
Turn My Phone Off
The ultimate act of rebellion in 2025? Turning your phone off. Honestly, I should win awards for it. I can go an entire day without checking my socials, though that doesn’t stop the 57 group chats from trying to lure me back in.
Everyone who really needs me knows how to get hold of me. The rest can wait while I escape the endless stream of FaceTimes from my sister and the questionable TikToks my best friend insists on sending. Digital detox, done my way.
Kick the Husband Out
Let me preface this by saying: I adore my husband. He’s my favourite person. But when it comes to proper relaxation? He’s got to go.
Usually, he’ll take himself off to football or his mate’s house — and we both know it’s for the best. Because if he stays home, I’ll either end up watching cricket, which does nothing for my cortisol levels, or feeling guilty for wanting peace and quiet. So, I light a candle, he leaves, and the whole house exhales in relief.
Eat Whatever I Want
I’ve lost quite a bit of weight over the years by cutting down on snacks and being mindful of what I eat. But on pamper days? All rules are off.
Steak-flavoured crisps, Galaxy chocolate, cookies — if it’s beige and processed, I want it. I go full feral for about 12 hours, and yes, I always feel mildly horrendous afterwards. But that’s the mark of a good cheat day, right?
Watch What I Want (Finally)
Marriage is about compromise — especially when it comes to the TV remote. My husband could watch football documentaries until the end of time, whereas my idea of bliss is Schitt’s Creek reruns and Parks and Recreation.
So, when I have the living room to myself, I reclaim the remote like a woman possessed. Within minutes, I’m knee-deep in a comedy marathon, wrapped in a blanket, eating crisps I’ll later find in my hair. Bliss.
Take a Ridiculously Long Bubble Bath
I love a good bath. Unfortunately, my tub is the size of a small swimming pool, and by the time it’s full, I’ve usually lost interest. Still, when I commit, I commit. Candles, bath salts, a face mask, and a glass of wine that’s far too large to balance safely on the side.
I’ll stick my iPad on and watch a show, pretending I’m in a spa, not in my bathroom surrounded by laundry I swore I’d fold three days ago.
Order a Takeaway I’ll Instantly Regret
For someone who “doesn’t really eat takeaways,” I sure can demolish one when the moment strikes. I have PCOS, which means even looking at a slice of pizza can make me bloat like a pufferfish — but sometimes, greasy food is self-care.
My weakness? A good burger. The kind so juicy it drips down your chin and ruins your top, but you don’t even care. I tell myself I’ll do an extra 30 minutes on the Peloton the next day. I rarely do, but it’s the thought that counts.
Face Mask, Manicure, Tan, Repeat
Nothing says “I’m reclaiming my sanity” quite like a full DIY pamper session. I start with an Ole Henriksen face mask, do a gel manicure (because nothing screams “I have my life together” like fresh nails), and finish with a generous layer of fake tan.
By the end, I look and feel human again — like a slightly more moisturised version of myself who hasn’t just eaten her body weight in crisps.
Go to Bed Early (and Actually Sleep)
After a day of food, pampering, and pretending my inbox doesn’t exist, I crawl into bed with fresh sheets, a decaf tea, and my Kindle. I read until my eyes start stinging, then drift off in the glow of my bedside lamp, feeling like the picture of serenity — until I wake up at 3 a.m. convinced I’ve forgotten to send an email.
Over the years, I’ve realised that relaxation isn’t about spa days or expensive candles. It’s about creating tiny pockets of calm before your brain (or your schedule) completely short-circuits. I’m still learning to catch myself before I burn out — but when I do, these rituals are my way of saying, “Not today, chaos.”
