Not because you can’t. Because somewhere along the way, you stopped being on your own list.
You grab it for someone else while you’re out. You remember everyone else’s. But yours ran out three weeks ago and you just… haven’t. It’s never urgent enough. You’re never urgent enough.
So me and my sister Elisa made lip balm. And honestly, it felt like a bit of a weird thing to care about. But that’s sort of the point.
Elisa’s the one who actually got me into this. She’s always been good at making things with her hands, and I think she knew I needed something slow. No deadline, no one waiting for it, no pressure to get it right first time. Just us in the kitchen melting stuff down and chatting.
We used beeswax, shea butter, cocoa butter, rosehip oil, and vitamin E. That’s it. Nothing complicated.
The beeswax gives it structure and locks in moisture. Shea butter is the bit that actually repairs dry, cracked lips. It’s really soothing. Cocoa butter makes it feel rich and keeps your lips hydrated for longer. Rosehip oil’s high vitamin content aids healing. And vitamin E is like the quiet one doing all the work in the background. It’s an antioxidant, it helps preserve the balm, and it supports skin repair.
So it’s not just sitting on your lips doing nothing. It’s actually doing something.
We melted it all down using a gentle double boiler. No direct heat. Slow, controlled warmth fully melted and smoothed everything. Elisa stirred in the vitamin E, and we poured it straight into the tubes while it was still warm.
And then you just… let it set.
That was the bit I liked the most, actually. The waiting. Not rushing it. Just letting it become what it was going to become.
They came out really smooth and solid. And they smell gorgeous. And I know exactly what’s in them because I put it there.
I will not sit here and tell you that making lip balm will fix your burnout. It won’t. But I will say this.
When you’ve spent all day being reliable for everyone else, and you’ve got nothing left, and the idea of “self care” makes you want to scream because it sounds like another thing you’re supposed to be doing… sometimes the smallest thing is the realest thing.
This isn’t a morning routine. Not a journal. Not a three-step plan.
Just making something. Slowly. With someone who gets it. Because you’re allowed to be on your own list.
