feminist

Try to comprehend that which you’ll never comprehend…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 4 Comments

In the midst of a wonderful weekend at the Edinburgh Fringe I had two really inspiring experiences. Both of which fuelled in me a desire to share some writing that hasn’t seen the light in quite some time. On Sunday I saw Neil Holborn perform his stunning poetry. He is very open about his struggles with mental illness & includes his own experiences in much of his work. The power of his honesty & the emotional response he received to some of his pieces really struck me. He reminded me of the power of sharing the dark reality of mental illness. Later that day I was introduced to a friend of my boyfriend who also talked openly about his past mental health struggles. This led to a discussion of how helpful it is to talk about these issues; how more often than not other people will then share their own experiences of mental illness. We talked a little about how that realisation that mental illness is actually really common relieved so much shame. It reminded me how important it is to talk frankly about my experiences, so that those in the depths of illness can see that they are not alone. Equally important is to reach those who have never been touched by mental health problems. Letting people see that this can happen to anyone, that the pain is intense, debilitating & uncontrollable lifts stigma. I really believe that the way to fight ignorance is information. Not just statistics, but brutal insights into conditions often misunderstood. It is so much harder to dismiss mental illness when you have been confronted with it’s reality. 

With this in mind I decided to review work I produced in my darker days. For those unaware I have battled with PTSD, depression & self harm for most of my adult life. Although my mental health is much improved from the time of this piece, it remains a daily struggle. One is never cured. The best I can do is learn to live with what I cannot change & fight for what makes my life beautiful. I am profoundly grateful to no longer be actively self harming. I am also aware that urges still exist. It takes work to maintain my current life. I make a daily decision to keep fighting & I am far from alone. 

I know these words may be disturbing to some, but I ask you to read them anyway. I share this because I passionately believe that a deeper understanding defeats stigma & grows compassion. 

i had another little crisis

despite a transfusion in late december,

my haemoglobin had again dropped to 6.6

causing doctor’s to get jumpy

&

prompting talk of another transfusion.

this fuelled  a panic in me

i do not like having blood transfusions

i feel incredible guilt.

other people are more deserving of this blood

someone selflessly gave of themselves.

i will waste it

i know it will feel horrendous inside me

i do not want it.

i don’t really have the option of

saying

no

they will call in a psych consult

which could lead down a road

i can’t

even

think about

my first stupid reaction

is

i must cut

whilst the dr’s decide

i will blood let

i know it doesn’t make sense

to most

but

there is method in the madness

my hb is already low

i may as well be hung for sheep as a lamb

i will hate myself less for shedding my own blood

if i lose enough blood

do enough damage

i may feel sated for a while

with this in mind i set to work

after two disappointing nights

of

slicing

&

producing inadequate wounds

i got angry.

on the third day,

the gp called to say they had decided to go with an iron infusion the following week.

i considered myself free

to

paint the town RED

i felt it couldn’t be that bad

if i didn’t need a transfusion

i had still better fit in as much damage

before treatment

&

truthfully

after two pitiful nights

i needed it

so,

feeling enraged with myself

i set to work

i chose a spot on my slightly less scarred right forearm

i cut vertically

downwards

towards my wrist

everytime i reached a depth i could live with

i elongated the cut

&

started to work down into it again

i got into the most dangerous mindset

where

i just can’t resist

a little

bit

more

i ploughed through the layers of my flesh

fascinated

with what lay beneath

i watched three distinct fountains of blood

flow into one

sticky

hot

pool

i pulled the wound apart to make the blood spurt higher

i sawed through

some

tough,unknown inner material

and

thrilled

as the spray soared out

and hit my face

when i was finished

i watched

for

i don’t know how long

long enough to become dazed

i had created a gaping trench

the entire length of my foream

that continuosly filled with blood

and

spilled over, flooding the floor.

i could not stop the blood

nor, could i think straight

i wrapped a towel around my arm

put a huge jumper on top

and

took the bus.

yes,

the bus

to a&e

i trailed blood into reception

& collapsed in the triage room

i was so ashamed

dreaded trying to explain myself

lay in a cubicle

crying

i had done this many times before

but somehow

i couldn’t control my fear or self loathing.

i received 21 stitches

a transfusion

and

was hospitlised again for three days the following week with chest pains & breathing difficulty 

requiring

another

two units

&

suffering from severe pain

i spent those 3 days in & out of a morphine

induced altered reality

Junior dr’s were too scared to take blood from my arms

apparently experience is required

to find a vein in this network of scar tissue

the consultant was overly kind

fellow patients

stared & whispered

i lay there in

shame

pain

fear

all of which added up to

another attempt

to stop.

11 days

and counting……

20/03/2012

A dignified period…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

Simon Community Scotland are a wonderful organisation who provide support & services for people experiencing homelessness. Every year they help over 500 women dealing with being homeless, offering gendering specfic services through their street teams. 

The traumatic histories of homeless women create a need for multiple branches of support. Often issues beginning in childhood can lead a woman to the streets. Childhood abuse or neglect can be replayed through domestic violence & exploitation, which can result in substance abuse, mental & physical health problems. All of which add up to a shocking low life expectancy of 43. The Simon Community aim to help women rebuild their lives by providing emergency accommodation & a variety of tailored services. This month they add to their excellent support portfolio with a Period Friendly programme. 

The programme will be comprised of education, communication & making sanitary itemsessily available. Simon Community have found that homeless women often lack basic knowledge about their menstrual cycle. Growing up in care or a troubled home can mean that they never had a chance to learn about periods. homeless women can feel particularly embarrassed or ashamed about their periods. As a result they may struggle to talk about their periods and lack opportunities to seek advice. On top of this the hardships of living on the street can lead to irregular cycles, infections & other problems. 

The Simon Community hope to tackle these issues with the launch of Period Friendly Points (PFP). Intially the points will be located at places specifically catering to homeless people, with they hope they may spread to include other sites. PFPs will provide free access to products required for a period; wipes, tampons, towels, pants, disposable bags along with information on how to use the sanitary products. Pregnancy & infection tests will also be available. These offer reassurance for women who experience irregular periods. They are also essential for women who have been victims of sexual violence. The Simon Community street teams will also be giving out Period Paxs comprising Period essentials, which can be refilled st PFPs


The PFPs will also give homeless women the chance the speak to staff about any queries or problems they are having. A study of homeless women undertaken by Simon Community discovered that,

78% didn’t know how long a tampon should be kept in.

61% had to go without sanitary products on multiple occasions – instead using rags or newspapers. 

70% had never spoken to anyone about their period & didn’t even know what a period is. 

These fact underline how important Period Friendly Points are. There is a desperate need for not only access to necessary products, but also a someone to listen & offer reliable advice. 

No women should ever have to make her own tampons or wear the same pants for a week. This goes beyond personal hygien, it is about dignity & respect. 

As a charitable organisation The Simon Community is always on need of donations & support. You can help grow this new intiative in a number of ways. If you have some time to volunteer you can become a Period Friendly Pal. 

P.F.Pals will :

Restock PFPs.

Collect & sort donations into Pax at SC warehouse in Glasgow.

Help raise funds & products to maintain PFPs.

Support, promote & raise awareness of issues that homeless women experience. 

Be a listening ear to the women SC reach out to. 

You can also donate by texting PFPR28 to 70070 staying your donation amount – £5 or £10.

Words are flowing…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 1 Comment

Words have always been my religion. Whether the beauty you can create with words or what I could say when I wrote made me a writer is my own personal chicken & egg. Regardless, the fact remains, I worship words. In that adoration lies a certain obsession; from worrying over a sentence for an hour to finding affinity in someone else’s perfect phrase. Which, is exactly what I want to tell you about. 

In the past week I’ve come across two such phrases that at different points in my life seemed made for me. Across the Universe is one of The Beatles songs I immersed myself in as a teen. I still love it, but the words have become so familiar that they often just wash over me. Well, on bus last week for some reason I was really listening. When I reached the chorus, one line flooded me with feeelings from times gone:

‘Nothing’s gonna change my world’ 

I vividly recalled being 15 & completely believing that nothing could shake me. I had at that point lived a charmed life. A life of love & safety & competence that had formed a girl confident she could take on the world. And win. 

I look back on that version of me with such mixed feelings. I’m proud of her; she was the weird girl that managed to be popular. The smart girl that partied. Even at 15 she knew her convictions mattered & those who felt threatened by that could fuck off. It takes a specfic kind of teenage courage to own that you are different & to celebrate it. Oh, the plans she had. It never once occurred to her that anything could knock her down. 

I’m welling up writing this because I know what happened next. It took years of therapy, but I can finally feel compassion for that cocksure girl that fucked it all up. Now, after years of blame, I want to protect her. A story of my history & evolution in 5 words. 

A few days later, in a fit of insomnia, I was flicking through tv channels & found Girl Interrupted. The first time I read this the description of suicidal thoughts clicked. 

‘Once you’ve posed that question, it won’t go away’

I hadn’t heard anyone else voice this cold fact before, but it was true. Once I had seriously considered suicide, it never really went away. Killing myself became the solution to every problem. So many of Susanna Kaysen’s words rang true. Hearing my terrifying feelings expresssed out loud somehow justified my pain. 

All I ever heard about suicide or self harm was don’t do it. People often talk in well meaning platitudes. They’ll tell you that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Life will get better, they insist. It’s all meaningless. When you are in that hole, getting out doesn’t seem possible. More over, even if you believe that someday, you might be happier, it does nothing to assuage your current pain. Severe depression is torturous. There is a comfort in knowing an escape hatch exists. For a long time the knowledge that if I couldn’t take anymore of life I didn’t have to was the one thing that kept me alive. 

Watching that film again brought back those dark times. More than that, Kaysen’s words brought a sense of peace. In my suicidal days, having my daily struggle with those thoughts acknowledged was powerful. Now, realising that suicide is no longer my default trouble shooter is compelling. 

Sometimes it takes a glance at the past to see how far I’ve come. I know those feelings can return. Which is why these words still resonate. Another example of a handful of words spelling out the story of life. 

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

No compassion…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 4 Comments

I’m 36yrs old, chronically ill and a size 22, I am no stranger to a bit medical fat shaming. Sadly, I have had to develop a thick skin when it comes to interacting with the medical profession. Drs & nurses will say things to me that no one else would dare to. I have had to learn to advocate for myself when necessary & brush off a whole bunch of bullshit along the way. To be honest I thought I was fairly untouchable. I am entirely comfortable with my size & though often tiring to hear the same fat phobic lectures, it doesn’t hurt me. Infuriate, yes, but I never felt unable to deal with it. Until recently. 

Earlier this year I had a miscarriage. It was not my first loss. My previous experiences of pregnancy & miscarriage were hugely traumatic and in fact played a major part in my mental health struggles. Losing another baby was horrendous. I had some complications and ended up having to spend a little time in hospital. The one small blessing was the support system I have in place and the kindness I was treated with whilst inpatient. Once home & physically recovered I visited my GP to discuss my general health & how to proceed fertility wise. That she wanted to talk about weight loss was not entirely unexpected. I know standard advice for anyone overweight talking about having a baby is lose weight. I know drs still hold rigidly to the BMI scale & that there is an upper limit for fertility treatment. I know fat women often have their pregnancies labelled high risk. What I wasn’t prepared for was this gp’s insinuation that my weight caused my miscarriage. So, unprepared was I that I convinced myself that I had misunderstood. I pushed it out of my mind & continued trying to process my grief. However, when I returned a week later and she still only wanted to talk about diet plans, what I ate, what I weighed now & how often she could weight me,I was more explicit. I explained my history of borderline eating disorders, of starvation diets & losing vast amounts of weight only to regain it. I told her I did not and would engage with rigid diets or weight loss programmes. Her response was given my multiple miscarriages, I might want to re think that. I enquired If she was saying I miscarried because I was fat & she confirmed that she thought it likely.

 

I walked out feeling a rage that quickly melted away to sadness. I was left wanting to crawl into bed and never get out again. I have struggled with PTSD for many years; my original trauma was an emotionally abusive relationship & my the circumstances surrounding my first miscarriage. It has taken me literally my entire adult life to get control of my shame and guilt. Years of self harm, debilitating depression, panic attacks, flash backs and nightmares all centred around how the loss of my child and subsequent illness was all my fault. One thoughtless dr had thrust back into that damaging thought cycle. On top of that I have fought to reclaim my body as acceptable. I have had to work to enjoy my life in this fat scarred body. My history is well documented in my medical records and I have personally discussed it with the dr. That truth is she wants me to be thin more than she wants to me be happy & healthy. Her complete disregard for my mental health was cruel. That she hadn’t even bothered to investigate my history before speaking is unacceptable. A cursory glance at my notes would have revealed that I was not over weight at the time of my other pregnancy losses. She would also have seen that I am currently taking a medication for PCOS that causes weight loss. The drug is harsh on my already inflamed digestive system meaning that I throw up daily. In addition one of it’s major side effects is appetite reduction. Hence, I have been slowly shedding pounds since I commenced this treatment. I also have diagnosed gynaecological issues, which are much more likely to play a part in my inability to carry to term. The conversation she forced upon me was not only insensitive, but entirely irrelevant. That said, it is never ok to blame a vulnerable women for the loss of her child.

I have chosen not to see that GP again. I attend a fairly large practise and as a freelancer have the freedom to wait for appointments with another dr. I have yet to confront the issue as it still feels so raw. However I feel a strange sense of duty; I feel I must tackle this to prevent it happening to someone else. I recognise that there were times in my past when this dr’s assertions would have entirely destroyed me. I hate that the responsibility to educate & challenge falls to people like me. I cannot understand why a profession who swear to ‘do no harm’ are so married to fat phobia. Why is care and compassion is so often disregarded purely because a patient is fat?


 

 

Woman of the Week…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

This week’s marvellous female specimen is Ruby Tandoh. I actually came pretty late to Ruby party, but I intend to make up for lost time. Ruby is the no bullshit baker we all need in our lives. 


Ms Tandoh obviously came to public attention on The Great British Bake Off. She didn’t win the show, but she was excellent in every way. Every single one of her 5 million facial expressions were endearing & I totally related to her stressing. It goes without saying that she made some tasty shit, but the best was still to come. 

It wasn’t until I found her on twitter that her true glory was revealed. Ruby is a kick arse intersectional feminist. She tweets about important matters from LGBTQ issues, fat phobia & ableism to popular culture & politics with the kind of blunt clarity I admire. She calls out the sell out tactics of other chefs who jump on the healthy eating bandwagon. All the while writing joyfully about food (& various other things) in her Guardian column & books.

Ruby had no fear in taking on the big names. She has been savage in her take down of Jamie Oliver & clean eating quacks Ella Mills & The Hemsleys. She skillyfully disects the dangers of healthy eating fads whilst highlighting why they are so problematic. 


Her recent contribution to Do what you want, a zine about mental well being has pushed her even further in my estimations. The zine includes a variety of pieces on all aspects of mental health. It covers perhaps less talked about issues like accessing treatment as non binary person & mental well being from a refugee stand point. This all round excellent publication also donates all of profits to mental health charities. I believe it is now sold out, but check the website for details. 

Ruby Tandoh seems to be that rare thing of a ‘celeb’ who puts her money where her mouth is. Her feminism is inclusive of the groups so often exclude from mainstream white feminism; sex workers, non binary people, POC, fat women, the disabled & so on. Her life seems to genuinely reflect her spunky public persona. This is a woman worthy of our respect. 

If all that wasn’t enough she is hilarious. We’re talking about the chick who refused to work with Piers Morgan by calling him ‘sentient ham’. Oh & she wasn’t fucking sorry about it. 


Can we have a standing ovation for Ruby?

Woman of the Week…

Video ~ ~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

I couldn’t march on Saturday because my stupid body is stupid. I am gutted to have missed such a massive assembly of strong women. 



I was especially delighted to see so much intersectional feminism on display along with a big turnout of kids & young adults. It heartens me to think that right here in my city the next generation is woke. I am proud that so many parents everywhere are raising their kids right. Which brings me to one of my favourite videos from the March on Washington.




By now I am sure you have all seen Ashley Judd’s recitation of Nasty Woman. It was a memorable performance of a powerful piece & credit to Judd for bringing to the attention of so many. For me what makes it even more inspiring is that it is the work of Nina Mariah Donovan; it is she who is my woman of the week. The 19 year old from Tennessee wrote the poem last year in response to Trump’s growing campaign infractions. Judd attending the event at which Nina originally performed the poem. The writer’s own delivery of the piece is every bit as commanding as her famous fan. 

Ashley Judd of course sought & received permission to use the work & Nina expected some backlash. Ridiculously Trump supporters are disgusted with Donovans’s description of Ivanka as her father’s favourite sex symbol, whilst having no issue with Trump’s own incestous comments. 

Nina Mariah can be found on YouTube, where she posts videos of her incredible performances. She writes on feminism, social justice, her Puerto Rican heritage & pop culture. I’m blown away with the intensity of her words. Her stage presence & mastery of language are stunning. Do yourself a favour & start following her now. I dearly hope this young woman’s  redoubtable talent is about go BIG. 

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PuW51X_tE0M

I got all my sisters with me…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 1 Comment

Ok, the left is down, but it’s not out. With evil pricks sweeping into power the world over it’s important to take a stand. We can all make a difference; none of us have to look far to find a worthy project to support.My plan this Xmas is to give locally & hopefully encourage others to do the same. 

If anyone needed a reminder that the patriarchy still isn’t smashed recent events have certainly served that purpose. Women are still under threat from numerous directions. Unfortunately those closest to us can be the most dangerous. In the uk 1 in 4 women will experience domestic violence in their lifetime. There are still 2 women dying every week at the hands of a male partner or ex partner. With 90% of women reporting their children witnessing attacks it is clear how far reaching this problem is. The human impact of these figures is devastating. Being outraged is not enough, we can all do something to help. 

Glasgow Women’s Aid provide support & refuge accommodation to women, children & young people experiencing domestic abuse. Their services are far reaching, from emergency housing, to legal advice & counselling services. Even a small donation could help keep someone safe this Christmas. If money is tight you can still support Women’s Aid by following them on social media. They often post request for items needed to allow women & their children to start a new life. You may have things lying around unused to that can ease that process or a simple share  could bring it to the attention of someone who does. 

Twitter – @GWA1973

Facebook – @GlasgowWomensAid

There really isn’t any excuse not make this festive period feminist. Let’s get giving. 

‘Cos every inch of you is perfect….

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 6 Comments

On my way to Dublin last week something happened that not so long ago would have been a massive issue for me. The fact that it didn’t really phase me proved to me how far I’ve come. 

The incident was an airplane seat belt that didn’t fit. This is something that I actually used to fear. A while back every time I boarded a plane I braced myself for the humiliation of being too fat to fit. It turned out to be no big deal. I had a brief moment of panic, my thoughts raced through all the seat belts that had fitted & how big I was then. Then it dawned on me that I didn’t care. It didn’t matter if I was bigger or this particular seat belt was smaller. It just didn’t fit & there was an easy rememdy for that. I asked for an extender & stopped thinking about. 

Until yesterday when it dawned on me what that meant. I wasn’t embarassed to ask for the extender meaning I wasn’t ashamed to acknowledge my fat body. That is incredible. Being a part of the body positivity community has led me to a place where I can genuinely appreciate my body. Once I realised that I started thinking about all the little things that marked real progress. 

It recently occurred to me that I had gained some weight on my bum. The marvellous part was I liked it. I’ve found myself dressing to show off my bigger arse &  I am so chuffed about that. 


Then on Saturday as I was dressing I automatically tucked my top into my skirt. Not a very momentous act except that I spent years of my life ensuring that my top always covered my stomach. I was that person tugging at my clothes to ensure I was hiding flabby bits. Now I just wear what I feel nice in & here’s the kicker, I look better tucked in or in clingy vests. 


Along the same lines whilst out with my sister I asked her to take blog photos. I am usually a pain the arse about pictures. Never happy with who I look, probably because I wasn’t happy with my body. In the past I have ducked out of pictures at big events & special moments, which  I’ve come to regret. So, in recent times I have made a conscious effort to push through my discomfort & mark significant times. I was however still dissatisfied with my appearance in the photographs. This weekend was different. My sister snapped pics of me in various poses & I loved them all. Break through!

The last and probably most obvious symbol of acceptance of myself is how comfortable I am naked. I run about my house in the buff all the time. I look at myself in a full length mirror whilst I dry my hair and I do not feel critical. I have no desire to hide. I notice the parts of my body that look amazing rather than hating my stomach or chubby arms. This carries through to being naked with others. I no longer feel worried about comparisons when changing with female friends. In the same vein I confidently show my body to anyone I get jiggy with. 

This may strike a lot of people as unremarkable, but it’s a life changing shift. Immersing myself in the body positive has helped me alter how I think & feel about my body. I’ve gone from yo yo dieting, disordered eating & choosing clothes to specfically hide ‘problem’ areas to being a woman who no longer believes there are any bad body parts. I like me. I like my curves, my wobbly bits & everything else. Body positivity works. Women supporting & encouraging each other moves mountains. So, I owe a big thank you to all of you who read, comment & create fat friendly content. High five, ladies, we’re changing the world. 

Woman of the Week…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 3 Comments

Picking a woman of the week has never been simpler. In the turmoil of the EU Referendum results only one politician has come out prepared. Nicola Sturgeon is an impressive politician. In a sea of vague non answers, she has a definitive plan. 

  
 Watching the First Minister speak on the steps of Bute House really made me proud to have voted SNP. Not only did she calmly lay out the steps her government would take to maintain European business links & investment in Scotland, but she unequivocally declared immigrants welcome. Her language made it clear that there is no room in Scotland for racism or Xenophobia. 

‘Indeed, I want to take the opportunity this morning to speak directly to citizens of other EU countries living here in Scotland – you remain welcome here, Scotland is your home and your contribution is valued.’
The leaders of the leave campaign are either silent or back tracking on promises. The government has no strategy for negotiating our exit from the EU & both the Tories & Labour seem determined to destroy their parties from within. There is justifiably an air of spreading panic. Nicola Sturgeon has been my sole ray of hope. Her clear & authoritative addresses have reassured me that Scotland, at least, has solid leadership. 

  
I am proud to be governed by such a progressive & passionate woman. I am delighted to belong to a country that has rejected fear & prejudice. I live in hope that Ms Sturgeon will steer our  celtic ship to independence. 

Tell me lies….

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 3 Comments

The older I become the more I realise that the world lies to me. I keep coming up against perceived wisdoms that just aren’t true. In particular I feel some life events are so surrounded in supposed gravitas that we’re all set up for a fall. So many situations that I was led to believe were scary, amazing or life changing were in fact no great revelation to me. So, here’s a my top five non milestones.

 

My First Time

Losing my virginity was no big deal. It wasn’t planned, I was just getting it on with a teenage boyfriend and it happened. I can’t even really remember the details. We progressed past our usual stopping point and I realised I didn’t want him to cease. So, we continued and had sex. It wasn’t fantastic and it wasn’t awful either. I didn’t feel any great pain; I didn’t really feel much beyond a sharpness when he first penetrated me. I didn’t bleed other than slight spotting in my knickers the next day. Afterwards we didn’t have a big discussion, there were no I love yous or promises. I think we went to sleep. It was nice. We had a cuddle and kiss in the morning then I left with my best friend to find food to cure our hangovers. I honestly didn’t feel changed in anyway. It seemed to me just a natural progression. I hear other women talking about regretting who they first slept with, wishing they’d waited for someone really special or even they person they married. I’ve never felt that way. The guy I shared my first time with certainly wasn’t a great love, he turned out to be a bit of a pig, but it’s never given me a moments pause. I was a teenager, even then it never occurred to me that he would be The One. I think that’s how it should be. Sex doesn’t define a person. It’s entirely healthy to experiment, make mistakes & learn from them. For girls especially we need to remove the idea that losing your virginity is somehow losing worth. We also need to ditch expectation that your first time should be an amazing, cherished moment. It hardly ever is and that’s ok.

 

Graduation

Graduation was another milestone that didn’t rock my world. Sure I was proud of myself for attaining a good degree. I had to wade through some adversity during my university years and I was glad I had made it to solid ground. Other than that, it was unspectacular. I didn’t even attend my graduation ceremony. The thought of the gown and marching on stage when my name was called made me feel nauseous. So, I didn’t bother. Neither did I have a fancy dinner or party. At the end of all our exams my friends and I had a mighty piss up, but come graduation time we were all onto the next stage. We were trying to find jobs we actually wanted whilst working jobs we needed to pay the rent. In short I was getting stuck into being an adult. Graduation already felt like old news.

  

First Period

Getting my period was another supposed life changer that left no discernible mark. I can remember my friends getting theirs before me and feeling a tad left behind. The actual details of my first period have left no imprint. I have a vague memory of perhaps calling my mum into the bathroom, but that may just be the influence of countless teen movies. My mum had gone over what to expect long before the event, so there were no shocks. My early periods were unremarkable. I didn’t suffer from cramps or mood swings. I merely found the whole thing a messy nuisance. I didn’t feel like a woman, I felt inconvenienced. 

  

Moving Out

For me, leaving home was also accomplished without a fuss. I had always had a good relationship with my parents, but I craved independence. So, when I fell head over feels with an inappropriate guy, I leaped at the chance to move in with him. I was young, yes, but I wasn’t scared. My mum thought it an ill fated idea and told me so. I ignored her and she knew me well enough to know she had to let me make my own mistakes. There were no arguments or tearful goodbyes. I didn’t have a lot of belongings, so the actual moving was a simple task. I had already been spending most of my time at the boyfriend’s flat, so there weren’t any ugly surprises. I had to learn to be a little smarter with my money and the bf obviously turned out to be a big error in judgement. That said, I have no regrets. I wanted to spread my wings and I did. I loved the autonomy of having my own place, even more so once I freed myself of the stupid first love. I never looked back. I have lived independently -mostly on my own- since & I wouldn’t change a thing.

The Big 3-0

Now for the one I was actually scared of, but turned out just fine. The big 3-0. In last couple of years of my twenties I had begun to slightly dread turning 30. It wasn’t the aging, but realising I was nowhere near where I thought I would be at 30. I had for some reason believed I would be settled, own my home & be well on the way to motherhood. Turns out that’s not what life had in store for me. So, I made the usual jokes about mourning my youth and felt uneasy. The funny thing is when 30 became a reality, I was completely fine. It dawned on me that my, childless, less than settled state was not actually a problem. I hadn’t met anyone I could be happy with, so singledom was clearly a better option. Living alone suited me, in fact I wasn’t sure I really wanted anyone else invading my space. As for children, yes, I wanted them, but I knew It wasn’t my time. On top of that I felt pretty good. I didn’t feel old & I still looked rather nice. My 30th birthday ended up being a lot of fun. My family and friends organised various lovely events. I was whisked away for a spa weekend and glammed up for a drunken nights out. Yet, again I had been deceived. 30 wasn’t scary, it was a blast.

  
So, what’s my point? Relax. Hardly anything ends up feeling the way we’re told it will & that’s just fine. 

If you enjoy my writing you can support me here or on Patreon.