🤍 Holding Joy & Grief

February 2026 – Mounjaro Diaries

February has been one of those months that doesn’t quite know what it is.

Part celebration.
Part heartbreak.
Part oysters.
Part wondering what day it is.

And somehow… all of it real.

🤍 Saying Goodbye

My sister-in-law passed away peacefully this month.

There’s something soft about that word —peacefully. It doesn’t take away the ache, but it brings comfort.

She was in a lovely home. The staff were extraordinary — kind, patient, human in all the ways that matter most at the end of a life. And for that, I am deeply grateful.

Grief doesn’t move in straight lines.

It shows up unexpectedly. In songs. In quiet car journeys. In the pause before you pick up your phone to text someone who isn’t there anymore.

And somehow, life continues moving around it.

🎂🎀 Birthday + Valentine’s Week (Operation Chocolate Avalanche)

In the middle of all of this… I also had a birthday.

Yes. That happened too.

Which, conveniently (or suspiciously), falls in the same week as Valentine’s Day.

Honestly? It felt like a coordinated sugar attack.

Every single present was edible. 🍫😂

Not a candle.
Not a scarf.
Not even a mildly aggressive “live laugh love” mug.

Just chocolate.

The headline act?Twelve chocolate brownies from Cutter & Squidge.

Twelve.

Thick. Fudgy. Life-altering brownies that deserved their own security detail.

And then — because apparently the brownies weren’t enough — several large boxes of Belgian chocolates arrived. The posh ones. The shiny wrappers. The mysterious fillings.

At one point I genuinely thought,
“Are people trying to sabotage me?” 😅

But here’s what actually happened:

I had some.
I enjoyed them.
I didn’t eat all twelve brownies in one emotionally charged sitting.
I didn’t spiral.
I didn’t declare the week “a write-off.”

I shared. I paced myself. I even forgot they were in the kitchen one day.

WHO AM I?

Old February Helen would have treated that week like a farewell tour.

This year?

Low key. Warm. Loved. Chocolate-covered.

And surprisingly… balanced.

🏉 England v Wales – Six Nations Weekend

Then came the rugby.

England v Wales. Six Nations. Another work freebie (I am clearly in the right department 😅).

England won 🇬🇧🏉 — which always helps the atmosphere.

It felt good to be in noise. To cheer. To feel part of something loud and alive when internally everything feels softer and slower.

Grief and joy can sit next to each other.

I’m learning that.

🦪 Borough Market & Oysters

On the Sunday we wandered through Borough Market.

Cold air. Busy stalls. That familiar London buzz.

We ate at my favourite seafood spot. Oysters. Fresh and salty and perfect. A glass of wine. 🦪🍷

And yes… I managed to avoid the bread basket.

Which, if you’ve been following this journey for a while, you’ll know is growth.

Not because bread is forbidden. But because I wasn’t eating to soothe anything. I was eating because I was hungry.

That difference matters more than calories ever did.

📉 Weight Update

Weight loss this month:Zero.

Not up.
Not down.

Just steady.

And once upon a time that would have triggered panic.

Old me would have tightened everything. Restricted harder. Criticised louder.

This month?

I’ve chosen grace.

Because life has been heavy.

Because juggling work, home life, admin, paperwork, emotions and loss is exhausting.

Because maintaining during grief is strength.

✍️ Grace When Life Gets Hard

February hasn’t been about grit.

It’s been about grace.

Grace with my body.
Grace with my energy.
Grace with the fact that not every month will be a milestone.

There have been evenings where I’ve simply written things down to clear my head. No plan. No performance. Just honesty.

Sometimes that pause is enough to stop you numbing with food.
Enough to stop you fighting yourself.
Enough to remind you that you’re human.

And that’s allowed.

February hasn’t been flashy.

It’s been layered.

Chocolate and tears.
Rugby and quiet drives.
Oysters and hospital memories.

And through it all?

Still steady.

Still showing up.

Still doing this.

With love,
Helen 🤍