Inside My Head

June 7, 2026

Welcome to another edition of Inside My Head, where I give you a snapshot into the chaos of my brain.

Each week I’ll share a story a spiral and a moment of honesty as well as occasional photos and any other nonsense my brain throws into the mix.

Enjoy the ride!

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Admin Bits

Just to shout out a post of mine from earlier this week. It’s about what happens when somebody becomes so focused on understanding themselves they forget to experience themselves a bit. You can read it here.

The next round of featured writing entries will also open soon, keep your eyes peeled.

Now, lot’s to discuss this week…

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The Spiral

Ah here it is. The pre trip guilt.

You’re doing something nice for yourself while you’re off work. You have nothing to feel guilty about.

But what if Nala needs me.

She can survive for 24 hours without you. She’s fine.

But what if she’s not.

You’re just a human, not a superhero. She will be fine with your Mum for one day.

Harsh.

The sentiment is right though. Enjoy yourself.

So many things could go wrong.

What if I hate it.

You’re going to be by the sea. You know you won’t hate that.

I’m already tired. What if I’m too tired.

Tom.

Yes mate?

I think you’re doing the thing again. Stop simulating disaster. It’s going to be lovely.

But what if I should just stay at home.

Do I even need a break, really?

A break from what?

It’s all just a bit silly really isn’t it. I could just stay and look after Nala and get on with it.

Maybe I won’t go.

I don’t think I should go.

Tom!

Oh no.

You shouted.

You’re fucking going mate.

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The Story

I went on a trip this week.

On the day of my adventure, my morning had been a storm of guilt and anxiety. As is my way.

But that’s not the story here.

The story here, is what happened when I spent twenty four hours in Llandudno.

Because, much to my own amazement, I did something incredibly simple.

I had fun.

Eventually.

Upon arrival, with my bags unceremoniously dumped in my hotel room, I took a walk along the promenade, my earlier edible hanging around enough to leave me thinking of nothing but the fact that the sun reflecting off the sea was beautiful to look at.

I took a walk to the pier, but the crowds and the uncertainty of how far along you were allowed to walk forced me to retreat a little. I rerouted and went for coffee, aware that having been awake since 4:30am, I probably needed a helping hand in seeing 7pm.

I followed that up by buying myself a new cap and a jacket. Which, for a man who is very good at talking himself out of needing anything, was quite a wholesome moment.

The day threatened to unravel as I attempted to run my hotel bath only to feel a surge of fear as the water leaked all over the bathroom floor.

I did what little I could with the hand towel I’d elected as sacrificial and hoped the extractor fan would do the rest for me while I was out.

I was not dealing with this by speaking to people.

My evening was spent eating the world’s best (as voted by me) biscoff pancakes, followed by another promenade walk and the stoned man’s logic that eating peanut M&M’s in bed at 9pm was actually self care.

When I closed my eyes that night, I actually thought to myself “I’ve had a lovely day”…

Suddenly it was 4am, my brain screamed “back to sleep” but my body screamed “we did 22,000 steps and ate a year’s worth of sugar. HELP ME”.

By 4:30am, I’d accepted defeat, I was awake.

I psyched myself up enough to move and turn on the light.

And then I remembered that previous Tom was a genius.

I had packed my massage ball.

As I stood against the wall and rubbed my arse cheeks and lower back over that tiny rubber ball, I felt nothing but gratitude for my previous self.

I followed that up with a healthy dose of coffee and ibuprofen before I plucked up the courage to open the bathroom door and check on my flooding issue.

Safe enough for a shower, I decided.

By the time I left my breakfast table, I was still unsure how much energy I had for the day ahead of me.

A look at the sea before making any decisions.

The promenade had a different energy in the early morning.

There was mist hovering over the shoreline, people moved slower.

There was a classic car tour running, and I got to watch what looked like an 80’s movie scene as they lined up along the car park.

A part of my brain registered ‘take this in properly” and I took my headphones out and shared a few good mornings with the other people lined up to take pictures.

After walking for about an hour, I thought I better give my body a chance to take stock and I found my way to a coffee shop.

I ordered my drink, and then before my internal world had chance to resist, I found myself having a conversation with the barista. Weird.

I found a comfy looking seat and heard myself declare “oh yeah” to the rest of the shop as my legs thanked me for sitting down for 30 minutes.

I had a little chat with myself as I waited for my phone to charge and issued a rallying call that I would quite like to walk along the pier actually.

Caffeinated. Stoned. Ibuprofen’d up.

It was time.

I arrived at the threshold, where concrete was replaced by old wooden structure and I hesitated.

I then saw a buggy carrying two people drive straight over and thought “okay, stop being a wimp”.

I reached the end of the structure, the wind causing it to sway with the sea and I stood and watched a flock of ducks just existing peacefully.

I breathed in the sea air, looked out at the views of the hilltops and the expanse of the ocean and enjoyed a rare moment of quiet.

So this is what it can feel like.

As I wandered back towards safety (it was windy!), the smell of a stall carried my legs towards it. Home made soaps and bath bombs contrasted the salt that had opened my airways and before I knew it, I was chatting to Elsa, the lady who ran the stall.

She was telling me stories about the area, the bike rides through the hilltops and the tours that people go on. She recommended cafes and places to stop for lunch. She asked me my name and told me it was nice to meet me.

I left with bath salts and gifts.

A real life princess.

Then, I walked my way back to the fish and chip stall I’d avoided the previous day and bought myself chips and gravy. I stared out a seagull that fancied a bit of my lunch and then I decided to throw caution to the wind and head into the arcade.

I spent the best six pound of my life on 2p machines and gave my tickets to a toddler who looked at me like I was Santa.

Then I ate Ice Cream and headed back for the train home.

The train left the station, I watched the coastline disappear into the distance and I took a slow breath.

For the first time in a long time, I’d gotten out of my own way enough to have some fucking fun.

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The Honest Bit

What Tom trip would be complete without a physiological realisation puncturing the seaside atmosphere?

This came moments after my “oh yeah” coffee shop moment.

As my legs thanked me for my graciousness, my mind had other ideas.

“I make so many decisions out of avoidance”.

Great. And now I just have to sit with that?

The most frustrating thing is, I was definitely right.

My brain immediately showed me a highlight reel of decisions I’d made in favour of avoiding any chance of discomfort or awkwardness.

It even showed me how it had been shaping my trip. I hadn’t asked if I could leave my case in my hotel after I checked out. I’d avoided walking along the pier. I hadn’t really spoken to anybody until I had a conversation with the barista.

On the flip side of that, I made decisions after this moment that improved the quality of my day immeasurably.

The pier, the conversation with Elsa, giving my arcade tickets to a kid.

All things it would have been so much easier to not do.

I didn’t appreciate the timing of my brain’s latest bit of insight.

But I did have a better time because of it.

So I guess it doesn’t always suck to be Tom…

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Brain Debris

• I was very present for Biscoff.

• You’re never too old for an Arcade.

• Sometimes my body will force words out of my mouth.

• Turns out I do miss Nala when I’m away for a night.

• 9 months sober. Crazy.

• I was walking along the promenade thinking I couldn’t wait to get into bed when a group of school kids walked past me. Age really creeps up on you.

• Sometimes it’s okay to give yourself nice things.

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The Visuals

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Featured Writing

Thank you to everyone who submitted an entry. Reading them is one of my favourite parts of writing this column. It gives me a rare opportunity to escape my own brain and enter yours for a while.

Here are the three pieces that really stayed with me. I’d encourage you to check out all of the entries, if you get chance, here.

• Signals by Dani Buring.
  "They are not decorative. They are not aspirational placeholders for a self I intend to become. They are current. Used. Returned to. What is sitting on my shelf now is what survived the thinning of my interests. What I kept returning to even when I had permission to stop.”
  
  I recognised myself in this line. I see my own versions of the things that have survived. When I was rebuilding, when nobody was watching. I was sending myself signals all along. This one stayed with me.

• You Taste Like Average by Lucy Blachnia

  “You don’t wait for the light. You become something worth finding. While you’re here.”
  
  This line hits hard after reading the full post. I really enjoyed this take on craft and felt surprisingly positive after reading it. Thanks Lucy!

• Noise Revisited by Gathering the Pieces of Me

  “They pull me into darkness.
  A bottomless abyss."

  
  I love this whole poem so much. But this line made me say out loud “I remember that feeling”. A beautiful piece of art.

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Final Thought

For a long time I’ve been so obsessed with figuring myself out that I’d forgotten how to live.

This week I remembered that it’s quite nice when you do.

Tom x

If you enjoy these walks through my mind, please consider buying me a coffee and receiving my eternal love below.