And so it goes…

A woman I follow on social media had a baby. A much longed for child. She had tried unsuccessfully to conceive for many years & had shared this fact with the internet. Finally, her dreams came true. Of course she also shared this joy. I felt genuinely happy for her.

Then a kind of depression hit. I don’t actually know these people. I didn’t even follow her for that content. It was just another part of her life that she chose to be honest about. I saw her occasional posts about infertility and empathised. I hoped things would go well for her. I was happy when she talked about her pregnancy. Her posts about preparing for the baby were lovely. I clicked the heart on all the little outfits and baby paraphernalia. I didn’t give it a lot of thought. When she came up in my feed I thought it was nice that she was getting her happy ending.

I don’t really understand why the shift when her baby arrived. The photos are adorable. I don’t begrudge her having something I cannot. Still, I plunged into a really yucky pool of emotions. I wouldn’t even describe as a fully fledged depression. I feel sort of hollow. Numb isn’t quite right and neither is sad. It’s a little bit like the world is a technicolour picture and I am merely the text. My life lacks dimension. Absolutely nothing has changed. This woman’s story does not impact me at all. I will remain the same. It’s possible that witnessing someone else transform really underlines my stubborn lack of metamorphosis. It’s hardly my first rodeo, though.

My mind‘s ability to fuck with me never fails to catch me off guard. People are having babies everyday. There are films and books and friends and strangers with tales of loss, of waiting and of miracle babies. I can’t enumerate the number times I have been told about someone’s cousin or work colleague who tried for a million years and when they’d given up hope, it just happened. Social media is jam packed with pregnancy announcements and birth stories, they don’t all put me in a tail spin. Why this one? I’ll never know.

There is a hole through the centre of me and periodically something will disturb the wound. That constant background absence becomes a painful cavity. Often without warning or my full comprehension. It’s tiring. I have made strides towards another life. Most of the time, I’m proud of what I have built, but I cannot fill the gap. I’m 45yrs old and I believe I have reached another of those epic life realisations. This is it.

I don’t mean that in a defeatist way. I have been labouring under the illusion that I could find an alternative centre of gravity. Not knowing what was or could be felt sad & awful. I understand now, it doesn’t exist. I will never be a Mother & nothing will fill the role. Acceptance has been a long time coming, but it might be here. It’s painful, but there’s also a large amount of relief in it. The desperate search can cease. As can all the feelings of inadequacy that arise with never being able to find the thing. I have what I have, my efforts are much better spent making the most of that.

Cat Tax

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Specs Appeal

New glasses day is always an exciting day. So, when Where Light offered to send me 3 pairs of my choice, I was delighted.

I like to make a statement with my glasses. So, with their huge selection of funky frames, Where Light is perfect for me. I have a few heart shaped frames and I know I like them. This polka dot version was just too cute to resist.

You can never go wrong with a bit of bling. These black stones really appealed to me. I love how bold and chunky they are. Nothing subtle about these specs.

My last pick was a wild card. I was drawn to these doodle like frames. They look like someone has freehand painted them. I don’t have any similar glasses, so I had to have them.

Glasses are gifted, but opinions remain my own.

Hurting Time…

I have been struggling with really high pain levels for quite some time. I’m trying changes to meds and pain relief strategies. My dr has ordered some tests, but so far I have not found relief. When pain overtakes me like this I seek one thing; comfort. Here are some places I have taken refuge recently.

Alan Bennett

I was delighted to discover that Alan Bennett had released a new volume of diaries and stories. I stumbled upon Bennett in my late teens/early twenties. I saw one of his books on sale and it piqued my interest. I fell in love on the first page and have devoured his work since. His writing feels like sinking into a warm bath. His memoirs paint the picture of a kind, funny and intelligent man. He always seem to be on the write side of important issues and handles life with grace. His plays are genius. So well observed and engaging. Basically I gain a feeling of well being from immersing myself in his words. If I’m too sore to sleep at least I can get into bed with these comforting pages.

An Oldie

This one is random. I saw an advert for a streaming service that included a really old sitcom that I used to love. The sitcom is As Time Goes By, it’s an early nighties show starring Judi Dench & Geoffrey Palmer. The premise is an older couple reuniting after being separated for 30yrs. They were in love in their youth and lost touch via a postal accident. Both thinking the other had rejected them. They are flung back into each other’s lives and fall back in love. It’s a gentle comedy. It’s also really lovely. Second chances, fate, the one who got away all feel romantic to me. Anyway, I of course downloaded the service and binge watched the delightful lot.

Music of The Night

Pain like this is usually accompanied by insomnia & that is currently the case. Sometimes even if I can’t sleep I will try to at least lie down and rest. For this I need a dark, cool room and some soothing music. Weirdly, one of the genres that relax me is musicals. The Lloyd Webber/West End type. I’m talking ‘Music of Night’, ‘Send in The Clowns’ kind of fare. Something about all those soaring emotional notes soothes me. Thus, I may recently have been spending the wee small hours singing show tunes in the dark.

Bru Boy

Finally, there is my boy. Bru is a very snuggly cat. Like most cats he seems to sense when I am having a really hard time. He will come lie with me in bed or climb right up on my chest to comfort me. He also does a very cute head butt thing. If I ask for kiss, he headbutts my mouth. He also grants me a little grace when I’m struggling and offers no complaint when breakfast is a late. I have been extraordinarily lucky with my beautiful cat companions. I am forever grateful.

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62 million…

I imagine if you are interested in what I write that you will by now be aware of the CNN investigation into an online ‘rape academy’. I’m sure we can agree on the abhorrent nature of the site under investigation. Unfortunately the public discourse has not been so unanimous.

The site in question falls under the umbrella term ‘sleep content’. Essentially, this is a porn category that covers touching, filming and/or engaging in sexual activity with a sleeping or unconscious person. The site included 20,000 videos of men drugging & raping their partners. Beyond that the group chats & message boards included hundreds of thousands of posts about procurement & administration drugs to render a person unconscious. Hence, it being dubbed a ‘rape academy’. Visitors to the site were not only consuming the content, but also seeking advice in how to engage in the acts. These enquires were met with many eager to coach them, in detail.

For women, these revelations were not a shock so much as confirmation of what we already know; we are not safe. Don’t get me wrong, it is shocking that men want to engage and/or watch this kind of content. It is repulsive that the site received 62 million views in one month. Further is horrifying that not one man who visited this site (whether they were aware or not of the specific content) thought to contact authorities regarding what they found. Woman have been vocal about the horrors CNN uncovered. Every time something like this is brought to light women express their outrage. We discuss how unsafe we feel. We use these examples to explain how difficult it for us to trust any man when even those who may be considered loving partners turn out to be predators. For us, all men are a threat. There is no way for us to decipher who the ‘good ones’ are. This CNN investigation, the Gisèle Pelicot and Sarah Everard cases perfectly illustrate this point. Men can masquerade as loving partners, hold positions of responsibility and still be exceptionally dangerous. Abusers are often very plausible. Caution is the prudent response for women.

This is especially true when you consider the male response. Predictably, the overriding response is silence. My time line is flooded with women sharing stories, articles and their thoughts related to this investigation. Every woman I know is talking about what CNN uncovered. Meanwhile, our male counterparts in the main, have nothing to say. That silence is significant. It speaks to the fact that men are unaffected by these crimes. They mostly don’t pay much attention to this kind of reporting. These crimes are not a threat to their safety. They also don’t consider them relevant. They aren’t victim or perpetrator, therefore their attention isn’t required. Too many men consider themselves exempt from the conversation. Not being a rapist isn’t enough. Men are uniquely placed to check their peers. Misogynists do not respond to feedback from women. Being corrected, admonished and excluded by friends & colleagues can make a difference. We need men to care enough to act. We can’t put our faith in men who can’t even be relied upon to open their mouths.

The contributions of men who did want to engage on the topic have been dire. Barring a few supportive takes, the men chipping in are doing so to minimise. Oh and of course to blame women. They want to quibble over details,

‘It wasn’t 62 million men, it was 62 million views’.

‘Women view porn too’.

‘They want to be dominated, that’s why 50 shades of grey was so big’.

‘Maybe they wanted to do it’.

Men are not the villains they cry. Female outrage is overblown. None of this is really as bad as it seems. Then comes the personal offence. Men are being demonised. It’s not all men, this narrative is damaging to young men. It makes men angry and not want to be a nice guy anymore. All these men are actually so mad because women made them that way. Plus, they tell us, women lie; poor men live in fear of being accused. We don’t reject them kindly enough. Our standards are too high. We dress too provocatively. We’re sluts. We don’t want to be wives and mothers. It’s all our fault. How dare we refuse to give these men what they want. And on and on and on. Throw in some gross misogyny and that sums up the vocal response from men.

All of which brings me back to where I started. Women don’t feel safe because we aren’t safe. There are supposed loving partners who not only drug & rape the women they share their lives with, but share the abuse online. Millions of men who enjoy watching this abusive content. Hundreds of thousands more who want to learn how to abuse their partners in the same way. Then there’s men willing to loudly defend this behaviour and those who just say nothing at all. Who do we trust? That’s why we say, ALL men. If you’re a man who objects to that statement, I invite you to please do something to change our minds.

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Here comes the rain again…

Due to various mundane circumstances I’m doing Mother’s Day with my Mum next week. The predictable emotion has been been relief. I don’t have to deal with the full force of it. Less expected is the impulse to retreat entirely.

I’m writing this at 9pm the night before Mothering Sunday and I am surprised by the almost overwhelming urge to go to bed. And stay there. I don’t want to face it at all. Grief continues to shock me. After all these years I thought I had crafted my coping strategies. I know certain days won’t be easy, but I’ve built the barricades. Then out of nowhere my defences are breached. Perhaps it’s because I am not occupied with planing something nice or preparing my game face. Maybe being left to my own devices has precipitated this exposure. Whatever the reason, I am exhausted by the emotion.

Actually, more than tired. I think what I feel is resentful of the onslaught. I do not have anywhere to put this pain. I want it to be over. I have followed the rules; therapy, read the books, talked, written, counted my blessing, tried to plug the gaps. I’ve spent 25 years learning and building and still it can all be washed away at any time. Be it a significant day or a random Tuesday, that wave can still engulf me.

Maybe this desire to check out isn’t actually all that surprising after all. It has still caught me off guard. The sadness is too heavy. I’d love to set it down, but I know I’ll always to hoist it up again. The knowledge of the permanence is just so fucking unfair. I’m too tired to rail against it. Too jaded to hope for a cure. I don’t want to bear it all. I want to take a sleeping pill, climb into bed and emerge when the danger has passed.

It’s a repeat…

On Saturday I met my favourite man at my favourite bar and I wore what I think may be my new favourite dress.

The second I saw this dress I was transported back to 1993. It is almost identical to a dress that I desperately wanted when I was 13 and sadly never got. So, when I saw this one I immediately decided I would fulfil that unrealised teenage dream. When I put it on my body I felt so damn pretty.

Dress – Simply Be Glasses – Firmoo*

We went to The Last Bookstore, which as the name suggests, is a bar dedicated to books. Along with all the beautiful books they have a delicious menu and a lovely selection of yummy tequilas. Plus the company of a lovely man, it was a good Saturday.

The Last Bookstore

Since I am loving this dress so much I gave it another outing this week. It is so easy to wear and I like feeling like early 90’s Bridget Fonda. I stick a t shirt under to give a more chill vibe and off I went. Perfect for a day with my tiniest nephew.

T Shirt – The Literary Gift Company

I am forever an outfit repeater. Clothes that cute must be worn.

* Previously gifted.

If you like what I do you can support me on Patreon.

Why do you have to be a heartbreaker…

I have an app that is designed to monitor symptoms of chronic illness. I wear a monitor on my wrist to check my heart rate, oxygen level, quality of sleep etc. It’s helpful. It warns me when my vital stats are out of sink. It records my heart rate variation, which is a big indicator of how well my body is coping. It has also been good to have an accurate idea of how much sleep I am getting (not much). You can rate symptoms every day and compare over time how various issues are affecting you. Overall, would recommend the app.

There’s just one thing that gets me down. The final thing that is recorded daily is ‘crash’. Basically, did I run out steam that day. Sadly, the answer is yes. Sometimes my energy tank is empty before reaching the dat’s destination. Other times pain takes me out. Others, still,I get too dizzy to continue. Lucky me, some days it’s a combination of all three. Of course this means that I rarely accomplish what I wanted (or needed) to. It frustrating and depressing and often really destructive. Constantly saying ‘I can’t’ wreaks havoc with every aspect of life. Be it personal or professional, I’m letting people down and it kills me. The guilt is enormous. As is the disappointment. I’m ambitious; my head is crammed with ideas and I had a very different life planned. Not being able to execute my plans in a grand or minute way is heartbreaking. 

That’s the thing about chronic illness, it breaks your heart and you just have to carry on. I’m continually having to find a different way to operate. My lists of can’ts is forever growing and changing, thus I must be flexible. I’m working with a different set of tools and I try to remember that. However, always ticking that box is a daily downer, which happens to be another intrinsic part of being chronically ill. It’s not often that the big things floor me. The huge issues pull all your focus into jus getting through it. It’s an hour by hour what needs to happen to come out the other side of this. There’s no time for dissecting. It’s the drip drip of daily symptoms that really torture me. The dreaded realisation that this thing is here to stay, that’s what fucks me up.

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Yellow Days…

I’m in the midst of mega bout of insomnia. I don’t love it. My brain is extra foggy and my productivity is questionable. However my ability to make many outfits from a few items of clothes remains stellar.

I like my clothes and I like having fun with them. It also makes my life easier if I just switch out a few bits rather than do a whole new outfit every day. January is cold and dark, so it needs an injection of colour. Enter bright yellow.

Dress – Simply Be Top – Taking Shape

I wanted to wear this sheer yellow top. I also wanted to comfy and cosy. I just layered it up. I started with this stretchy maxi. For me, leopard in a neutral, so I wear it with everything

Skirt – Lindy Bop Vest – M&S Cardi – Asos

When I needed to look a bit more put together I went for this graphic swing skirt. I love this skirt because it always makes me feel nice. It has a lovely swish to it. You can’t feel bad when you’re swishing around.

Dress – Pink Clove

Finally I combatted my insanely swollen Pcos tum with this bronze slip dress. It doesn’t put any pressure on my stomach. Comfort box ticked. I also love the clash of the metallic with the brights. Probably not for everyone, but a big yes for me.

I am a prolific outfit repeater. Clothes aren’t meant to be disposable. Doing a little mix & match is fun. It helps me get the most out of my wardrobe & saves me some spoons along the way. It’s win, win, win.

If you like what I do you can support me on Patreon.

New Year, No Bullshit…

In January I usually write something in answer to all the ‘New Year, New Me’ noise. This year I find myself exhausted that it’s still so loud. I genuinely don’t understand how the diet industry, fitness hacks & self help scammers still have such a hold on people.

I’m pretty sure almost everyone is aware that New Year’s resolutions are ineffective. January 1st is just an arbitrary line in the sand. You aren’t more likely to break a habit or change behaviour because it’s a new year. In fact, given how meh January is we’re probably less likely to manage big changes. That’s before we even start on the things folk are dying for us change. Lose weight, tone it up, don’t eat that, hustle harder, conform! The only thing that changes is the spin the charlatans put on it. I just don’t understand why so many people are still falling for it. Shrinking your body won’t shrink your problems. There are no good or bad foods. Your value is not measured by your productivity. No arsehole in a sports bra or with the a podcast can fix your life.

The frustrating part is, deep down, I believe people know that. Which to me, means that everyone hawking their miracle cure are exploiting the vulnerable. They purposely target this shit at people who are grasping for answers. It’s a scam. The diet industry, the fitness bros & self help gurus don’t have the answer. And they know it.

If you like what I do you can support me on Patreon.

Curvy Christmas…

I’ve had a really wonderful Christmas. Gorgeous people, gorgeous gifts, gorgeous food. Of course, gorgeous outfits.

This time year screams velvet in rich colours. So, I started off my festive looks with this dark green wrap dress. I adore how this dress looks fancy and whilst being incredibly easy to wear. I just fling it on & hey presto, I look done up.

Dress – Curve Soul*

No Christmas outfit would be complete without some xmassy nails. I kicked off the festive manicures with these little snowy trees.

And this weather calls for the warmest & cutest teddy bear coat. It makes every outfit fancy. Tartan always gives me warm feel, paired with some holly you get cosy Christmas.

Coat – Marks & Spencer

I stuck with velvet, but upped the richness with this dress. The deep gold is dreamy. I teamed it with some of my beloved Snags and felt fantastic.

Dress – Glamorous

My family always dress up for Christmas Day. We’re usually at one of our homes, but we go all out anyway. This year for the big day I opted for this incredible Lindy Bop dress. I bought it for my brother’s wedding and it has been tragically under worn since. I really don’t know why I haven’t worn it more because it is fabulous.

Dress – Lindy Bop Shrug – Monsoon

My final Christmas nails were a glittery ode to the season. Half candy cane & half follow that star. I love them.

I had a really wonderful Christmas. I hope you all had a Merry time too.

* – Previously gifted.

If you like what I do you can support me on Patreon.