Thread by @Telegraph

When traditional avenues didn't hit the mark, @jj_phillips1 went off-piste to manage her anxiety

telegraph.co.uk/health-fitness…

🍻 I can’t wait to be back in a beer garden. The thought of drinking a pint of ale from a barrel, rather than a lukewarm cooler, almost makes my brain short-circuit

😎 Sitting on wonky wooden benches, donning sunglasses and SPF when it hits eight degrees and scoffing on the bar’s offering of deep fried anything come 10pm – I want it all.

But, before going to the pub, there’s somewhere else I’ll be heading

✨ For as long as I can remember, the health and beauty salon has been my safe harbour. No matter what external calamity was waiting for me, during the time I was there it was a problem suspended – kept at bay by lavender and jasmine essential oils

🧠 I first went for a massage at the age of 14. Riddled with self-doubt and anxiety – and having exhausted traditional avenues paved with doctor’s appointments and therapists’ offices – my parents saw no harm in going off-piste when it came to improving my health

📚 Anxiety usually simmered in my stomach, but it had begun to pound my eardrums and block my airways. This happened every morning before school. Getting out of bed felt like coming up for air. Making it through the day without crying in a cubicle was the benchmark for success

It reached the point that I couldn’t differentiate the illness from my personality.

The weight of trying to be noticed while also wanting to be invisible had started to weigh me down:

⭐ My neck was stiff
⭐ My back had become a web of knots
⭐ I suffered from migraines

✨ I cried as the therapist asked me about my wellbeing, but felt relief in confiding in someone who didn’t view me or my illness in a clinical way. There was an approachability and willingness to explore the wider issues, which had been lacking in traditional medical settings

Over the years, I’ve continued this ritual.

⭐ In Bali, while the rest of the group scaled a volcano before dawn, I went for a Balanise massage.

⭐ When I moved to London, before mapping my route to work or checking my landlady’s gas safe certificate, I found a local salon

Bodywell was located just off Kilburn High Road, a stone’s throw away from my front door. It became a constant in my weekly routine where I’d leave:

⭐ Workday stresses
⭐ Homesickness
⭐ Heartbreak

⚡ Over two years, my therapist, Sam, became a Thursday evening confidant who would massage my shoulders and self-esteem in tandem. It was there, between a Thai takeaway and a laundrette, I finally realised that liking yourself is a lot more important than having others like you

🍻 It’s not a medicinal mantra which fixes all; anxiety will undoubtedly pierce my mental fortress. But these days I’m better prepared for when old habits threaten a return.

This week I’ll buy the first round in the beer garden – right after I’ve shown my soft tissue some R&R