Finding Self-Care in the Wild Corners of Cornwall

May 19, 2025
1 min read

At The Bramble Path, we often talk about self-care, not as a luxury, but as a vital part of navigating life, especially for those of us who are neurodivergent. But in a world that moves fast and often demands more than it gives back, self-care can feel confusing or out of reach. So, where do we begin?

Sometimes, the best place to start is by stepping outside.

Here in Cornwall, we’re lucky to be surrounded by nature that invites us to slow down and reconnect with ourselves, with the world, and with a calmer way of being. Whether it’s the salt air of the coast, the stillness of the forest, or the wide open space of the moors, these places offer something many of us need: room to breathe.

You don’t need to climb a mountain or meditate at dawn. Self-care might be as simple as walking barefoot on the beach, noticing the light through the trees, or sitting with a flask of tea on a quiet path. These moments can be grounding, restorative, and surprisingly powerful.

For those living with ADHD, anxiety, or other neurodivergent experiences, traditional self-care advice can feel mismatched or overwhelming. But nature doesn’t expect you to show up in a particular way. You don’t need to be “productive” to deserve rest or to benefit from beauty.

At The Bramble Path, we encourage small, accessible acts of self-care that work for you. And sometimes, the first step is just opening the door and seeing where the path leads.

Helen & Steve

Comments

Why it can be hard to open up in counselling

I’ve been having counselling for a few months now and it’s only recently that I feel like I’ve started to scratch beneath the surface. When I first started, I thought once I was there I’d just talk. I assumed the hard part would be making the appointment and showing up. After that, I imagined everything I’d been carrying around would somehow just come out. It didn’t work like that. I talked, obviously. I can talk for England when I need to. I can explain things really well. Analyse them. Pick them apart from every possible angle. For a long time I came away from sessions thinking they’d been useful because I’d said a lot.

But saying a lot and actually opening up aren’t the same thing. Since late last year there’s been a lot going on around my daughter. Not between us, but things she’s been dealing with that needed support and that naturally took up a huge amount of emotional energy and headspace. A lot of my counselling sessions became about that. Processing what was happening, trying to make sense of it, working through the worry that comes with supporting someone you love when they’re struggling. And that was exactly what I needed at the time.

Then somewhere amongst all of that I was diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis, which was another thing to get my head around.I think when life is throwing enough immediate stuff at you, counselling becomes about surviving what’s right in front of you. You deal with the loudest thing first.That’s what I was doing. What I didn’t realise was that while I was talking about very real and difficult things, I was still staying in the safer places emotionally.I was talking about what was happening rather than what any of it was really stirring up underneath.

Only recently, now things have started to settle a bit, have I noticed myself touching on things that feel less rehearsed. Things I haven’t already thought through and packaged neatly before saying them out loud. It’s an odd feeling because I genuinely thought I was being open before. I think I had this idea that opening up was a choice. That if you wanted counselling to work, you just had to decide to be honest and get on with it.I don’t think that’s true anymore.I think sometimes your brain takes its own sweet time deciding it’s safe. Trust builds gradually, often without you noticing.

For me, I think part of that has been the relationship with my counsellor developing over time. And oddly, finding out she also lives with a similar chronic condition shifted something as well. Not because our experiences are the same, or because it suddenly made everything easier to say, but because there was something reassuring in knowing she understands what it’s like when your own body starts becoming something you have to factor into everything.There’s less explaining needed. I’m only really realising now that those months of what felt like surface conversation weren’t wasted. I used to think I was somehow doing counselling wrong because I wasn’t diving straight into the deep stuff.

Now I think those sessions were probably the reason I can start going there now. Sometimes it takes months of just turning up and talking before the real things begin to surface.I suspect that’s far more normal than people admit.

Until next time, take care.

Helen.