I haven’t written anything in over a month but it’s not because I have nothing to say. In fact, it’s quite the opposite and for once I have no idea how to say it. I feel like all I’ve been doing for the past month or so is either writing end of year reports, feeling guilty for not doing better at my job or feeling guilty for not doing better at being a woman.
Everywhere I go in real life and online, everyone is banging on about self care and how important it is. I just want to scream, who the fuck actually has time for it and do all the things they need to do? I understand that it looks different for everyone; a drink with friends is someone else’s Lush bath bomb which is someone else’s workout which is someone else’s hour with a good book. All of these things I enjoy but they come pretty low down on my list of priorities.
These days, hair is constantly dirty and on the rare days it is clean, it’s so frizzy and brittle that it remains in a top knot. I look at my ridged, flaky fingernails and remember the days I used to get my blood-red acrylic tips done every fortnight religiously. The last time I was measured for a bra, I was two stone lighter so I have no underwear that fits properly and you know that mood when you hate every piece of clothing that you own? I’m constantly in that mood. My sewing machine sits neglected for months on end and as the to do list behind my eyes grows longer, I feel even more of a failure.
I know it sounds like I’m moaning about being busy butit’s quite the opposite. I have tried to make more time for myself this year but I’ve realised I am not doing enough at work and the crushing guilt that comes with that I’m not sure is entirely worth it. So other than slacking off at work, what have I have I been doing with my time? I’m certainly not writing and doing all the things I have secretly made plans to do but I’m still tired all the damn time.
Recently, I’ve felt stuck between a perpetual adolescence of unbrushed hair and mild social anxiety that leaves me feeling like Lindsay Lohan eating her lunch alone in the toilet in Mean Girls and the stark realisation that this is actually it and I am teacher, I have mortgage payments to make and a dog who needs taking care of. When I meet other women my age who clearly have their shit together, I feel like I’m going to be stuck in this weird post–adolescent purgatory for, well, forever. These are women who get their eyebrows threaded regularly because they didn’t overpluck them at 14. These are women who have perfect nails, a standing appointment with an experienced colourist and a waxer who they know by name. I am absolutely convinced that these glorious creatures do not have an armpit rash that they have to apply steroid cream to everyday, holes in their trainers and wear cheap pink plastic sunglasses because they can’t be trusted to not break/lose anything else.
I try so hard not to compare myself to other women and I don’t really when it comes to physical appearances (anymore) but when it comes to a general ‘having your shit together and knowing where you’re going in life’ vibe, I am the very worst.
How do I get out of this funk? Maybe I need a break from my career? Maybe I need a nap? Or maybe I’m just ready for the summer holidays?
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