The One with the Terrifying Shopping List

I don't want to make this yet another moany old blog post about the struggles of a modern woman's life, the millions of ways we split ourselves in two on the regs or the ever-present threat of the patriarchy against our very souls . . . yet, I'm twitchy today and I know that means I need to write.

So here I am.

Me. With my heaviness.

I can't be the only one that feels the crush of these feminine struggles right now. In fact, I know I'm not. I only have to scroll through my Insta for thirty seconds to see that some of my teary, raging, revolt-led sisters have had the courage to record something - anything - that helps express what they're feeling. And usually what they're feeling isn't new. It's ancient. And bone-deep.

Whether it's the desperate campaign for the proper recognition and treatment of eating disorders; new Epstein file horrors arising; maternal mental health relentlessly occupying suicidal territory; the apparently silent screams of Gaza; the oppression of the beautiful trans community; late diagnoses of neurodivergent women ripping their lives wide open; thinness stealthily ruining our lives; Black and Brown women pierced by ongoing racist trauma; the neglect and disregard of menopause; the grotesque social media traps set to catch our teenaged girls; the 'Manosphere' rising to dizzying heights; the economy crisis that is most keenly felt in the average home.

I could go on. Obviously I could go on. But I guess none of us want a terrifying shopping list of oppression.

When I sat down to write I thought it was going to be about my state of frustration right now. I thought this blog post would be about my frustration that I can't find the time to do what I love (write / paint / be a celebrant). That I can't find a way to make a living from my dreams and that my seven-year-old self will simply not take no for an answer. That I need some words of advice from my amazing followers (that's YOU by the way) about how to finally make it all happen.

You might think, 'But Abi, you ARE making it happen! You've written and published six books. You completed your celebrant training and you have weddings booked in. You've painted persistently since you were a little girl.'

And you'd be right.

Six Book Babies

But that's not the full picture.

And whilst I am the first person to wave the flag of 'Give-yourself-credit-for-how-far-you've-come-not-how-far-you've-got-to-go', I am struggling to wave it for myself right now.

Why? Because I'm tired. Because my bank balance is shot to shit. Because I have a family to look after (all men, which doesn't help). Because I'm feeling kind of stuck. And - hence the opening paragraphs of this post - I can feel the pressing mass of not only generational female trauma, but the current trauma that's unfolding for us as a gender group right now.

The last thing I want to do is centre my cis-het, white experience and go all woe-is-me. But honestly? Woe IS me. Woe is all of us. Or at least it is for those of us that have an ounce of empathy.

I think we need to understand that when we, as women, have ambition, it is not simply a matter of applying yourself and getting on with it. It is a million different matters. It might be matters of family, matters of heart. Matters of finance, matters of energy. Matters of abuse, neglect, disappointment, trauma, fear, inequality, expectation. These matters turn into barriers that men just don't face. yet we're expected to rise up just the same? To earn just the same? To achieve just the same?

I know today may just be a bad day. I'm looking out of my living room window and I can see sunshine for the first time in forever and that should make me feel better, right? I could go out there and blast all of this away with a good old stomp through the woods or something. Instead, here I am, stomping all over my blog instead - trying to make sense of why I feel so heavy.

Should I go out there?

My mindfulness training has taught me that heaviness is ok. Being angry at the world is ok. Raging at injustice is ok (and actually probably necessary). Feeling frustrated that I can't live my creative truth and then instantly moving into guilt because I'm nowhere near as oppressed as millions of my sisters across the world is ok. Isn't it?

I don't know.

I guess, what I'm asking is - would you 'not know' with me? Would you share my heaviness and sit with me? Can we be in this together?

I actually think we already are.

Maybe I'll read this post back to myself in a minute and feel better for having written it. For now though, I'm just putting it out into the world and having faith (as I have done countless times before) that it will do something - anything - to shift some energies into the space they need to be. A space where change can happen.

I'd love to know what that space looks like for you?

(BTW - if you'd like to help me raise funds for women and children in Gaza, check out this post)

Go well,

Abi

xxx

P.S. If you enjoyed this blog post then make sure you sign up to get ALL my bookish news as and when it happens. You'll also bag yourself a FREE copy of Life Is Yours - the first book in the Life Is Yours Trilogy. Sign up here

P.P.S. If you liked what you read and want to help me keep on writing (it's a tough old world out there), then you can support me for literally just a few pennies over on Kofi. You can also become a member and hear me share my words with the passion, energy and meaning they were written with.

#loveblogging #muminthemomentblog #mumblogger #mumbloggersuk #bloggerlife #mumblog #parenting #mindfulparenting #mumlife #mumofboys #positiveparenting #writer #uplifitingfiction #womensfiction #readers #bookishnews #bookstagram #feminism #feminist #womensrights #equality #equity