The Bakers Adventures

People notice when you start changing your life.

At first, they comment on the visible stuff.. the way your arms are more defined, how your skin’s glowing, how you suddenly seem lighter. And it’s lovely. Really lovely. (Even if you don’t quite know how to accept it without feeling blush.) But then, once in a while, someone says something that hits different.

Something like, “You seem really calm lately.”
Or, “You’re showing up for yourself so consistently, it’s inspiring.”

And that’s when it gets you. Because while the physical shifts are motivating (and sure, they help).. that’s not the full story. The real stuff? The reason I’ve grafted harder than I ever have this year? It’s not for definition. It’s for emotional stability, better sleep, clarity, patience, peace. It’s so I can feel like I’m living in alignment with who I actually am. It’s because I want a long, joyful, meaningful life..

And when you live with conditions like PMDD and ADHD, where daily functioning can feel like a war in your own brain, it’s tempting to reach for what’s sold as the “quick fix.”

For me, medication was both the hardest and the easiest route. Easiest because it meant giving the wheel to something external and surrendering to that help. But also the hardest.. the side effects, the emotional whiplash, the question of “Who even am I now?” when the fog lifts… but so does part of your essence. It works for many, and I’m genuinely so glad it does. But it wasn’t the path that worked for me.

Coming off felt like failure.
Like I was giving up on the only thing that was meant to help.
Like I was choosing to suffer.
Take them? I felt numb.
Don’t take them? I felt raw.

What I didn’t know yet is that I wasn’t failing. I was evolving. I didn’t need fixing at all. I just needed acceptance. Not just lip-service self-love, but gut-deep, stare-yourself-in-the-eyes, cry-on-the-kitchen-floor kind of acceptance. And from there, I started rebuilding.

It started with my journal workshops, creating a space that I needed and in turn made a friendship circle I’d spent my entire life searching for.

From here I started implementing boundaries.. ( or learning what these looked like) and discussing freely in a same space how some areas of my life could be improved.

I began to support who I am, not try to change it.

That looked like:

• Turning off notifications and silencing the need to always be available.
• Reading more books, not scrolling.
• Waking up early (even when my body screamed no) to reclaim my mornings.
• Journalling… every day! Morning and night.
• Exercising. Not for punishment, but because I am privileged. Because my brain works better when I move.
• Taking endless supplements to soften the sharp edges.
• Saying no.. especially when it’s hard.
• Creating boundaries (not walls, but lines of clarity)
• Practising gratitude. Even when I feel like I’ve got nothing left in the tank.
• Sitting with myself in discomfort, and choosing growth over avoidance.

I’ve stopped chasing the version of me that “looks” like she’s thriving, and started being her… through actions, not aesthetics.

And you know what?
My mood swings have eased.
I recover quicker when I get overwhelmed.
My sleep is better.
My reactions are slower, softer.
I enjoy silence more than I ever did.
I’ve made peace with people (who’ll never know it).
I’ve laughed alone in cafes.
I’ve loved my own company.
I’ve grown..quietly and wildly, all at once.

So if you’re on your own path, wondering if the hard way is worth it.. it is. But not because you’ll get a flatter stomach or more compliments.

It’s worth it because, one morning, you’ll wake up and not dread the day ahead.
You’ll have space between a trigger and your reaction.
You’ll see yourself in the mirror and feel safe there.

The biggest change won’t be visible.
It’ll be the way you carry your heart.

And that kind of transformation?
That’s what lasts.