My autoimmune condition had reached its worst point. My anxiety was high, my energy was gone, and I was losing my hair which, more than anything, chipped away at my sense of who I was. I was raising two young children on my own, holding down everything that had to be held, and quietly moving through perimenopause without even realising that's what it was.

On the outside, I was coping. On the inside, I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and disconnected from myself, lonely in a way that had nothing to do with how many people were around me, and everything to do with feeling like I'd lost myself somewhere along the way.

I kept thinking I just needed to push harder. More willpower. More discipline. A stricter routine, more intense exercise, a proper night's sleep. If I could only do more, I'd feel like myself again.