Finding Light in Unexpected Places

I’ve just come back from a week in Turkey with my family, and honestly — it was exactly what we needed. Sunshine, sea, laughter, the kids making memories that I know will stay with them forever. But as always with life (and with me), it wasn’t without its challenges.

One moment that sticks out happened when I managed to leave my bag behind — my phone, my money, and even the babies’ things. My husband tried to call but his phone wouldn’t dial international numbers. Panic started to set in, and I felt that familiar wave of stress building in my chest. Then, out of nowhere, a kind Turkish couple stepped in. They didn’t hesitate to help us call, and later that evening, they even checked in to make sure we were okay. Strangers, who owed us nothing, showed us kindness that I’ll never forget.

And yet, coming home, I’m hit with a very different kind of reality.

You see, I live with BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), and one of the hardest parts is how it makes me experience people. I pick up on the tiniest changes in atmosphere, even through something as simple as social media. I notice who likes, shares, or comments on my posts. But harder still, I notice who doesn’t.

It’s like silence echoes louder than support.

Since my diagnosis, I’ve reached out to people I love, hoping they’d want to understand, to check in, to care. But the truth is, other than my husband, nobody really does. And that hurts. It makes me feel invisible. Like my pain is too much or too inconvenient for the people I thought I could lean on.

I don’t write this for pity. I write it because this is my truth. This is what it feels like to live with mental health struggles, to fight battles every day that most people never see. And yet here I am — still showing up for my kids, still building my little business, still trying to find light even in the shadows.

That’s why I hold on so tightly to moments like the kindness of that couple in Turkey. It reminds me that while support might not always come from where we expect it, goodness still exists. Sometimes it comes from complete strangers. Sometimes it’s in the smallest gestures. And sometimes, it’s just enough to help you keep going.

So, if you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt unseen, unsupported, or unheard — I get it. You’re not alone. And maybe, just maybe, we can be the people who choose to check in, who choose to care, who choose to notice.

Because I know just how much it means.

And that’s really what Little Lift Nails is about for me. It’s not just nails — it’s my way of lifting myself up when life feels heavy, of creating something beautiful when my mind feels messy. Every set I make carries a piece of that hope: that even the smallest little lift can help someone feel stronger, more seen, and a little more like themselves again.

💜 Hayley