What just happened?

Do you ever have one of those weeks were you just think to yourself, what in the name of the ever loving Goddess Christina Aguilera, just happened?

Like, you know it happened because you just lived through it, stumbled through, nay crawled on your belly over shark infested barbed wire (it’s a thing) but you still can’t quite believe it happened?

Yeah, well that was my week. Its been a pic’n’mix of pain, joy and WTF?!

So, here for your entertainment, because whats the point of life if you can’t mine it for content, in no particular order, are the *heavy air quotes* highlights of my week…

I’m too old for this shit… shit being stairs.

So I have a running joke with my friends about after thirty there never being an exciting reason for an injury. When I was younger, there was always some fun, embarrassing or straight up bizarre reason for hurting myself – like that one time I was on tour as Velma in Scooby Doo and I was so delirious from exhaustion and cabin fever that I ran through a field at full speed because, and I shit you not, I thought I could get to Narnia.

Two trees had grown in such a way that they looked like they made a portal and in my lessened state I believed, with upmost conviction that that was in fact a portal to Narnia. I’m pretty sure I actually called, ‘I’m coming Aslan’ at one point.

In my stupor to meet the great lion and have a spot of tea with Mr Tumnus, I neglected to not the ditch running through the field (in my defense it is was grown over and easy to miss and I’m sticking to that) i saw it just as I was about to run into it and I leapt with the grace of a wounded blob fish over this ditch. I cleared it. mostly, my right angle landed on a decline and was not expecting to do so and as the body is want to do in such strenuous situations, it broke, well ripped actually. Not that that stopped me, I ran on an very badly hurt ankle, got to the portal and ran through. In case you were wondering, it turned out not to be a gateway to Aslan but I did get a lovely pair of NHS crutches as a consolation prize.

The point of the story is, shit like that doesn’t happen much anymore, as was proven this week when I twisted my knee by, wait for it… walking normally up the stairs. Just Walking. Normally. Up the stairs. So that’s when I turn to this joke I have with my friends, which is this, if you injure yourself doing something normal at normal speed. normally. then you need to make up a story that paints you as a sympathetic yet valiant hero who rescued something and in the course of events, you hurt yourself – of course this injury was sustained ensuring the safety of your poor defenseless, whatever. Now puppies and kittens are always a good bet, any baby animal really, of course you could o for babies or kids but its risky, a rescue of that sort is often article worthy and the suspicious lack of ink on your heroism might cause people to doubt your entirely fake but completely plausible story.

So, it’d go something like this:

Human that’s not me: Oh, no Sam, how did you hurt your knee?

Me: Well, I was walking home yesterday after giving blood and I thought to myself, ‘Sam’ I thought, why not take a different route home – which is very unlike me as you know, I want the quickest route back to my coach and away from humanity as possible

Human that’s not me: nods

Me: But, there was just something telling me to go through the park and by the river. Anyway I did and as I was walking past the wildflowers I heard a faint high pitch noise. I thought it might be my phone at first because I was waiting for a call about volunteering for NSPCC but as I walked it it was getting louder.

I followed the noise and there, stuck under a fallen tree was a three legged beagle puppy – no owner in sight. Of course I did what anyone would have done, I raced over and checked the puppy’s vitals with my emergency kit I keep for things like this, just the basics y’know – a syringe of sugar water and a teaspoon in case I see a dying bee, gauze, iodine, stethoscope, thermometer, your basic meds and a blood pressure cuff – nothing fancy, The poor thing was howling now and its heart beat was elevated. There was no one else around so I did the only thing I could, the only option afforded to me. I lifted the tree off that poor three legged puppy and in my haste, I must not have braced properly because I twisted my knee. I mean I kept lifting the tree of course, adrenaline is a wonderful thing. Anyway the three legged puppy was freed and it was only after I put the trunk down I saw that the poor thing couldn’t see. So I held it close to my heart and kept it warm, to stave off shock and I got my portable micro chip reader out and luckily the pup had been chipped and I rang the owner, who was a very sweet Army Veteran called Timothy. He explained to me that his daughter had always wanted a dog and now he was finally finished with active duty he was in the position to grant that wish. He told me she was always so scared he wouldn’t come back from oversea’s and now finally here I am and the puppy goes missing after three days.

Then he offered to drive me to a&e were the Dr told me a lesser woman would have ripped her ACL but thankfully my natural strength just caused it to be a sprain.

Human that isn’t me: Oh my god! You are a hero

Me: I just did what anyone would have.

You see how that sounds so much better that, I was walking up the stairs. the end.

So I have been out of commission, mobility wise most of this week, so the timing couldn’t have been better for my son to get a very large, very red and itchy rash over most of his body…

My son gets a rash

Now the important thing you need to know of the bat is that my son is not a fan of school, well that’s like saying North Korea enjoys its privacy. Anyway the point is, I’m used to screening claims of illness in the morning, so at first I thought it was the latest on the long line of ‘Miles tries to get out of school’ tales. But the I saw the back of his legs and thought, ‘Oh FUCK’ very loudly while trying to keep a calm exterior. He is fine by the way, an allergic reaction according to the Dr that looked at photos of him after talking to me on the phone… but this caused a problem, I couldn’t walk and Miles needed Meds. I called round everyone I could think of that might be able to help but no one was answering. So in the end I had to Uber a very small distance, collect his prescription and get the bus back. While I was on the way to the bus stop, everyone and i do mean everyone I had called me back. So I was stood balancing on one leg. bag of medicine in one hand phone in the other, repeating the same thing about 10 times all while trying to get onto a bus with a leg that refused to bend.

It’s not all been bad, there’s been weird parts as well…

Like for instance me witnessing a woman walking an English goose. Walking it. Like it was a dog. No, I don’t think you heard me – she was walking it. She had a pink harness on it with fairy wings – which is weird when you think about it considering the goose can already fly without pity wings. So yeah I saw someone walking (i assume) their goose in a harness and lead….

Payed for my sons music workshop at school, finally and it was being held this week, on which day do you think? That’s right, get yourself a cookie, the day miles turned into an itchy dot to dot… so that was a waste of my resources (money, I mean money, I just wanted to sound fancy)

Insomnia flare up…

So, as my legs been holding me back I have had to drain my bank account into Ubers this week. I had a driver I’ve had a few times before. He remembered I am writing a book and asked what it was about. When I told him about a goddess getting kidnapped, he told me part of his real life story of being held for ransom by the Taliban – the actual fucking Taliban and honestly I’ve never been as shook by a persons story in my life. I’m hoping to interview him properly if he remains comfortable with the idea

My Uber driver was kidnapped by the Taliban…

trying o get to sleep that past week has been near impossible and as a result I have the lines, ‘Is this the real life….is this just fantasy’ rolling around in my head while trying to function at a bare minimum but still getting stuff done level.

On a happy note …

I’ve been experimenting with digital art (if you wanna see me, just hop on over to my shiny new gallery page – but like give me a few, I gotta make the thing first

That about sums it up. I mean there have been lots of tiny things throughout the week that don’t merit talking about here but yeah, its been a bloody weird ol’ week!

Until next time,

Avoid stupid trees pretending to be portals

Parenting- Being Good Enough is Good Enough

I’m so tired.

Like all the time, my body, my mind, my soul. Mostly my joints and brain though to be fair.

I’m a single parent and it is much. Soooo very much.

A little background in case you missed my earlier posts on ‘Ten Things They Don’t tell You About Being a Parent’ and ‘What I’ve learned so far… Mumming’

I have a son, who is currently 10 years of age and has taken about the same amount of years off my life through the sheer worry, stress and repetition fatigue that comes with either listening to the same story, question, the word ‘mum’ or indeed my own vice issuing the same requests(commands) and warnings

. Now its time for my ‘Parent Disclaimer’

/ˈpɛːr(ə)nt/ /dɪsˈkleɪmə/

The act of, in a simple phrase, conveying your unconditional love for your child(ren) and how you couldn’t live without them, before proceeding to bitch about them relentlessly, so no one can say shit about it.


There it is you’ve had, you can’t say you haven’t I’ve covered my perfectly formed arse, so lets get to the meat of this post.

I’M TIRED YOU GUYS – I don’t know if I mentioned that earlier, I could go back and check but I’m not gonna. Guess as for why? That’s right cos I’m tired.

Other than the muchness of being a parent single or no, I’m tired of the expectation of perfection. Of doing everything perfectly and I swear to almighty Zeus if I see one more fucking Pinterest post on ‘healthy packed lunches’ that take longer to create than my pregnancy I may go postal. Seriously, Linda I don’t know where you get the time to make rainbow sandwiches, fun n’ cute bento boxes and roses shaped radishes for a packed lunch for your kid, but I don’t wanna see little Timmy waving his deconstructed sandwich on a stick around. And for transparency sake, even if I did have the time, I wouldn’t because there are so many more things I would rather be doing at 7 am than carving a fucking radish.

The rise in expectation is insane. Organic everything, no plastic toys, you didn’t breast feed until they were twelve? Oh you don’t hand make your own fish finger from freshly line caught sustainable rainbow trout and wholemeal crumbed soar dough is making me loose the will to live. Granted I have many mental health issues and that leads to constant suicidal ideation (I’m not gonna do it, i just find myself daydreaming on it a lot) so it doesn’t take a lot for me to loose the will to live but i feel that is entirely beside the point.

Firstly, the fucking privilege of assuming we can all afford or have access to these types of food and the judging those who don’t makes me livid. Then assuming that all parents are cable of accomplishing all of those tasks on top of everything else that being a parent involves is just stunning.

So I got to thinking. I’m done with trying to be the perfect mum, not that I was ever even considering entertaining the notion of making modern art out of lychees and honeydew. I do enough.

Now before you start piping up Linda I am not saying that I’m going to neglect my child but I am going to say there does seem to be a rash of people so adamant that their kid won’t have the same mistakes inflicted upon them that they did that they are fucking up in a different way. Everyone fucks up their kids, so maybe don’t put so much pressure on your self. Sure, don’t wake up with the aim of doing it but understand that the things your kids will have stored in their memory you probably won’t even remember when it comes time to be sharing ‘good ol day stories’ the amount of stuff I remember clearly that my mum doesn’t is , numbered in the many.



Modernity is tough, its busy and its loud and we are supposed to grind and hustle, then be the perfect partner and parent and have special interest hobbies while feeding the passions of your kids and volunteering for the PTA and of course being their for friends and family if we are lucky enough to have them. It leaves little time for you and no time – AND I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH, NO TIME AT ALL FOR MOULDNING FUCKING CUMQUATS INTO EDABLE ARRANGEMENTS.

You know what kids need? Love. Attention. Food. Water. Education. A clean(ish) home and a safe place to lay their head. Laughter. Realistic expectations of their place in the world (which again doesn’t come from fucking molding a ham hock into a flamingo) I reckon if you can tick most or all of them off most days. You should cut yourself some slack. Off course you are a parent, of course you signed up for it but you know what else you are HUMAN. You are you. and You deserves to be human.

So please aim for good enough and take the pressure off. You never know, you might even find yourself exceptional when you put the comparison gremlin down, step away from the pairing knife and cuddle your kid.

If you need permission to be human, I grant you it.

Until next time, remember good enough is good enough.

Trying Out Mental Illness ‘Cures’


It’s fathers day here in the UK and this day can sometimes be a little difficult for me due to the fact that my father is, to put it politely ‘Not the best.’ So when I woke up this morning I felt a lot of things and my mental illnesses were out in full force. That’s when I remembered a post that my friend (I told you I had friends) shared with me on Instagram earlier this week entitled, ‘Mental Health Advice that will Probably Cure You Instantly’

It’s a gallows humor type posts, making light of the naive and often well meaning but entirely unhelpful advice mental illness suffers receive A LOT. Otherwise known as my jimmity-jam and it made me laugh hard, so I thought, you know what?

I’m going to test out some of the most common ‘advice’ and see how cured I am afterwards

. Now before we start I’d like to :

  1. Direct you again to my disclaimer
  2. Re-affirm that while yes, a lot of these can be helpful as complimentary, homeopathic options to professional treatment and medication, they are not usually offered up in that way. They are usually presented to you as a miraculous cure or as a, ‘Have you tried [insert the thing that as a chronic sufferer of mental illness of course Iv’e fucking tried Linda]
  3. This is supposed to be a light, fun post to make you giggle, so keep your panties on and your heckles down.


Oh this is a popular one! Also often thrown in with, you should exercise – it’ll make you feel better. Exercise of course does release endorphins which do make you feel good in the short term, so wonderful advice, especially as most people who struggle with the most commonly diagnosed mental illnesses anxiety and depression, find it super easy to get up in the morning and then go outside…

In the name of science and finding the cure, I put on my sneakers and took my little pug for his walk.

Before the Walk: I was feeling a bit agitated and pretty anxious.

The Walk:

After the walk: It felt ok to be out until I realised that me and nature have something in common, we are both trying to survive people. There were a fair few of ’em about and that didn’t feel so good. I did see a huskey and horses though, so that was nice.

Cured? No mate.


Do you know what? I have tried drinking a glass of water but maybe the problem is that I haven’t drunk enough water?

Before my water: I felt annoyed that the walk hadn’t cured me.

Drinking the Water:

After the Water: I like water. Not as a cure for my madness though, it did dick all. I once almost drowned and I’m here to tell you trying to drink 2.2ltrs in one go is not a smart move – for anyone but especially if you have water related trauma…

Cured? No but I am bloated.


People say this.

With a straight face.

Before considering its all in my head: Annoyed, bloated, powerful need to pee…

Considering its all in my head:

After consideration: Annoyed, twice. Bloated, still need to pee.

Cured: On consideration, obviously fucking not.

Have you tried… Owning a journal?

Like, just owning one? Or am I writing in it too?

Before I tried owning a journal: Annoyed, bloated, still gotta pee and confused by this one

Owning a journal:

After owning a journal: Kinda confused and irritated, like, if you are going to give me a confusing cure, I need the instructions to go with. Also, I’m still annoyed x2, bloated and for some reason still have not pee’d

Cured? If your definition of cured is to feel the exact same and still have all your diagnosis then…. sure.

Have you tried… finding Jesus?

I’m not a religious person, so I never felt the need to go looking for Jesus but, I’ll give it a shot if it could cure me.

Before trying to find Jesus: Still real confused and irritated, annoyed x2, hella bloated, need to pee reaching critical levels. A touch excited about try to find Jesus…

Trying to find Jesus:

After trying to find Jesus: I’m not gonna lie, I love a bit of hide and seek but Jesus is a lot better at hiding than I am and I just couldn’t find him, so I started to feel a bit sad BUT finding Wally helped a bit.

Cured? Nope, despite Wally’s best efforts.

Have you tried… not having mental illnesses?

This one gets as much effort as it deserves

So, there you have it. They didn’t work. I’m as shocked, gobsmacked and flabbergasted as you are. I’m sure I’ve missed a ton out but a girl can only handle so much disappointment in one day and I REALLY HAVE TO PEE!!!

Until next time,

Maybe take peoples cures with a pinch of salt (not literal salt)

10 Things My Mental Illnesses Have Given Me (That I’m Happy About)

DISCLAIMER: I am in NO WAY minimising the very real situation of living with these disorders and illnesses. I wanted to see if I could find ten things that I, personally, get through having these diagnosis’ as a thought experiment to help me through when things get bad. It is not me saying ‘just think positive’ or trying to minimise the very real hell that mental illness can be. Nor am I glamourising mental illness because – gross. It is also important to note that I receive professional help including therapy and medication and I am not using this list instead of getting proper care an treatment.

It’s hard for me to know how to start this. I want to talk about my particular cocktail of mental illnesses and personality disorders and how they affect me, but thanks to how society still views a lot of this shit my brain is conscious of coming across as, ‘attention seeking’ or ‘playing a sympathy card.’

So, first of all, I guess we should start by saying fuck that. Then roll straight into saying this –

1. what is wrong with wanting attention? To be seen? To be heard? To be understood? They are basic human needs and I won’t be ashamed of that.

2. The shit I’ve been through and the hellscape my brain can be I get to play that card, whenever the fuck I’d like. But also, that ‘card’ doesn’t exist. The (insert marginalised/oppressed community here) card is an invention by those who don’t belong to that group to shut that party down.

I’ve recently had reason to think about my brain. When I say recent, I mean the past 13 years or so, give or take a few hours here or there. I write, muse, ponder, speak, sing and stare loudly at walls about it all the time.

I have the following diagnoses*:

  • Social anxiety
  • Depression
  • EID (Emotional Intensity Disorder, more commonly known as BPD)
  • CPTSD (Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)
  • Stress
  • Insomnia
  • Body Dysmorphia
  • An ass that just won’t quit

Here are the ten things I think I have gained from the above:

1. Great Protector

One of the side effects of living with PTSD/CPTSD is something called hyper-vigilance, which is exactly what it sounds like. It is exhausting and completely draining but one thing it does give me (other than a mean catch when people try to catch me out) is the ability to be a protector. I know the exits to any room I’m in before I’ve sat down and I have scanned for potential threats, the objects I could use to protect my son and I and the sight lines. I’m working on being able to be present in the moment and not be so Jason Bourne but until then I know, that at least I can protect.

2. Techni-Colour Joy

EID is, not too put too mild a point on it, an absolute bitch. It is like being an exposed nerve, every emotion is dialed to eleven. When I am sad, or any other emotion one might classically label ‘bad’ (even though there is no good or bad when it comes to emotions, that are simply all healthy and natural reactions to being alive) it is all consuming and near impossible to get through. But my joy, my love, my sex… HELLO. So like all things in this crazy life, I will take both please.

3. Empathy

You know you obviously don’t have to be mentally ill to be empathetic BUT after all the things I’ve been through and seen its so very hard to not feel for people, even the shitty ones because I know that behind each dick move, side eye or snide comment is a whole heap of life. I don’t welcome these people into my life of course, therapy has helped me set boundaries but empathy doesn’t require this. My empathy bone is also heighten because of my EID, so I’m basically a super hero at this point

4. Evidence Based Decisions

Ok, first let me be REAL transparent here. This is a serious work in progress, it is something I have learnt through my many therapeutic sessions and courses. My brain likes to jump to wildly hateful and mean conclusions about my character. One of the tools I have been given to help this is first to be able to recognise when I’m potentially having an episode and not make any big decisions in that space and secondly it is to treat my brain like its on trial. I make it present its case with facts only. So this way I know if I’m just beating myself up.

5. Learning about Filters

Another skill I’ve learnt is understanding negative filters. We all have them but until you go through therapy you don’t really know that. Basically your past experiences lead to ways of thinking and these become filters, positive or negative that we view our life through. These are to do with how we view ourselves and how we think about others. By learning about these I have been able to begin to understand how my past is still affecting my day to day life through my filtered lens. And because I know, I do the work. Ignorance is bliss but education is progress and growth.

6. Being Made to Look Beyond the Physical

I have an intense relationship with food and my body to put it mildly but the thing I have gained from this is to realise, that how I look is the least interesting thing about me and by reflection anybody else. This one is a loooooong way away from being instinct but I’m working on it.

7. Gratitude for the Good Days

Its so easy to take things for granted, we usually only notice when things break or are not doing what we want them to do.We tell our kids off but don’t put as much behind praising them for the every day little things they are doing. Well because I know how quickly my brain can switch I really try to embrace the every day wins, the little things that go so smoothly you can miss them and when I’m having a really good, I overflow with joy and gratitude.

8. Boundaries

I used to build emotional walls (I still have many left to come down) but then I learnt about boundaries and how important they are for me to be healthy and that those people who respect them are the type of people I want around. A healthy boundary breeds healthy relationships. I’m not going to lie, I used to think that ‘healthy’ relationships would be so boring but I’m here to tell you, they are awesome. Just because a relationship isn’t drenched in drama doesn’t mean its boring, it means it’s not knocking years off your life through stress – win.

9. A Good Listener

I grew up not being heard, or rather actively ignored when I wasn’t be targeted, so I know the pain of having no voice and because of this, I want to listen to people. I put in real effort to listen, to understand and to remember. I don’t want people feeling like I did and even if I disagree I try to hold my tongue and keep my ears open – I don’t always succeed but I try.

10. Emotional Intelligence

I have had to work on myself and it sucks to be quite honest. Its fucking hard and painful and something very few people understand. You wouldn’t be expected to perform surgery on yourself but that’s exactly what is expected of patience with mental illness because it can only be healed that way. Quite frankly I wish they could knock that shit off and give me a pill but apparently – no. So because I have and continue to work on myself a lovely byproduct of that is personal growth and a deepening emotional intelligence that I wouldn’t have with out ‘the work’

BONUS – You Don’t Need to be Grateful for your Trauma

I have some good news, you don’t need to have mental illness to take care of your mental health and all of the skills I learnt are not guarded by a wizened old wizard with a bad attitude an a penchant for blasting you up the booty for looking at his crazy cloak to long – you can find resources all over the google. So, the next time someone tries to tell you, ‘its made you who you are’ like they are Yoda, just remember, you made you who you are by doing the work. Work which we all could do with doing quite frankly and that you don’t have to be zen about abusers, k.

Until next time, keep your eyes out for grumpy wizards.

*If you want to find out more about mental illness and health, I highly recommend visiting Mind’s website. They are a mental health charity and are friendly, non judgmental and have tons of educational articles as well as resources and advice on their website.

If You Could Have Any Superpower, What Would it Be?


We’ve all played this game, right?

In the playground with out friends, thinking over all the powers and carefully weighing each one as if we were to be actually granted our choice?

Oh, who am I kidding?

‘Played’ like I don’t still consider the merits of flight vs speed, brains or braun, laser eyes or Adamantium claws.

Oh, who am I kidding?

I didn’t have friends… I’ll wait for you to tune your tiny violins.

Anyway, back on track. The point is I used to say my superpower would be the ability to instantly learn any skill. That’s right, I was lifehacking, way before YouTube. It’s the ‘I wish for more wishes’ answer and yeah, you are right to be envious that you didn’t think of it and also yes it’s a shade devious but I’m not perfect, ok?

The point is, I wanted to be able to do anything I wanted without the annoyance of learning. Of putting in the time, the hours, the strain and the stress. The ups and the downs, the perseverance – I wanted to shout ‘Adrian!’ without running up the steps. I wanted to open my eyes and say, ‘I know Kung-Fu’

Recently though I’ve been thinking a lot about this and while I know it’s highly unlikely, I will get the real-life option of selecting a superpower (never say never), I have changed my mind.

The more I have work on my mental health, the more I understand that a lot of my past thinking was trauma responses. Which is SOOO annoying because the amount of work involved to undo and relearn is roughly a fuck tonne, which is at least 12x more work than is fair, quite frankly.

You see, as a child if I didn’t know, or took too long the results were… unpleasant shall we say, so I very quickly learned the ability to people please, keep my head down, camouflage myself. That lesson was compounded over time and with additional traumas and abuse well into my twenties, it served an important purpose – survival. So, it makes perfect sense that I would want that ability, its perfect for people please, camouflage and also defense.

But here’s the rub dear reader, you know what happens when you learn a skill? You change, you grow, it builds self-belief and esteem. You’ve taken something you could not do and with time, effort, determination and passion, you have one step at a time conquered that thing.

The achievement isn’t really the skill, it’s the mindset you grew to get you that skill, it’s the hours and the sacrifice, God damn it – it’s the journey. So being able to instantly do anything is a hollow power, you would remain stagnant as a person and simply just have a bunch of skills you couldn’t appreciate.

Yes, I can hear you, – ‘It’s just a game Sam – jeez, why are you being ants at a picnic about it?’

Because it is a revealing game, no? Don’t believe me?


Think about the power you want, got it?

Now answer this.

Why? Why that power? Be super honest with yourself. You don’t have to tell anyone else. But when you dig to its core, you might be surprised

So, when I consider this question now, I think my answer would be this. I don’t want to choose. If super powers are bestowed upon me after a freak accident at the acme chemical plant while I was doing late night research into anti matter, then I will learn to use whatever that power is, I’ll learn to harness it. To control it, to use it inline with my current morality. To design a costume that is functional and bad ass. Then I’d find a bloody tailor – how can all of theses people sew their own costumes? Where do they get the budget for specialised fabrics?

Sorry, I lost me thread there for a second – get it – THREAD – because of sewing… never mind.

So, I choose the long path, the slow path, I choose the journey and I hope to hell I come out changed, either mentally or you know with super powers because of that dang chemical plant…

Also, though, I want to be able to have MIND MANIPULATION, see why I shouldn’t be allowed to pick. You do see don’t you. Yes, I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking…

I already covered that I wasn’t perfect, ok?!

Til next time, avoid vats of exposed bubbling chemicals…

Why Do I Feel Better When My Insomnia Is Flaring?


I was sat in my writers group Tuesday morning (‘Willcocks’ Writers’* if you’re interested) and I noticed that even though I was in serious sleep deprivation, I was in an amazing mood. When I say amazing, I mean, I felt ready to do ALL THE THINGS, at the same time.

Then that got me to thinking that whenever I am in this state i.e. in the throws of Insomnia, I feel really positive and ready to conquer and when I have sleep like a Normal, I feel like crap. Now, I was listening to a podcast recently in which, one of the hosts talks about the importance of looking back at your life and pattern spotting. It helps find common threads and as per this particular conversation your philosophical brand (as in that’s what a brand should be, YOU, your values etc)

So, with this fresh in my mind and my own sudden realisation that I feel better when I don’t sleep, I cast my mind back (always dangerous) and realised something about myself that I had to share…

… I’m a medical miracle. Not to brag or anything but clearly, I don’t need sleep, sleep is for the mortals, I am Goddess hear me roar. Or like at the very least a mother fudging, real life, bonafide super hero. God, I hate spandex – there will be no spandex in my costume and also, I’m really hoping I develop more powers soon because ‘Not Needing Sleep Woman’ isn’t quiet cutting it, you know?

I’m sorry what?

You don’t think I’m a superhero or a goddess, firstly RUDE and secondly, I doubt that’s it either, so I did some digging, delved into the stats, if you will…

There are an “amazing amount of gaps” in our scientific knowledge of sleep, said Paula Williams, a clinical health psychologist who studies sleep at the University of Utah.

‘Short sleepers’ can get just 4 hours a night and feel fine. But is their health at risk?’ by Stacey Burling MARCH 20, 2019

Well, thank god I went to the experts!

Jokes aside though it appears that the issue of sleep is a contentious one and I should now, I spent a solid 58 minutes on Google. Everyone seems to agree on one thing though, we need sleep. But sleep and dreams remain largely a scientific conundrum.

Everyone seems to agree that most adults need between 7-8 hours a night to function properly and that chronic lack of sleep, or being in a state of ‘sleep debt’ – which, side note falls just under ‘sleep hygiene’ as phrases that make me audibly eye role – anyway back to the point, which was… yes! Constant sleep deprivation is BAD, its linked to a lot of conditions such as,

“Inadequate sleep has been associated with a mounting list of cardiovascular, metabolic, mood, immune system and cognitive problems,  or, as one researcher put it, “pretty much anything bad.”

‘Short sleepers’ can get just 4 hours a night and feel fine. But is their health at risk?
by Stacey Burling MARCH 20, 2019

Or if that seems a bit too vague, this is what the NHS had to say on the matter:

Regular poor sleep puts you at risk of serious medical conditions, including obesityheart disease and diabetes – and it shortens your life expectancy.”


But this still leaves me with my main question unanswered, why do I feel better after a sleepless or seriously sleep lacking night? Well, turns out the answer is stress. Or more precisely stress hormones

“Feeling better after less sleep – including after getting less Deep or REM sleep – could be the result of your body trying to compensate for sleep deprivation. When you’re short on sleep, your body releases stress hormones the next day and evening. These hormones supply the sensation of alertness”

Feeling Better with Less Deep Sleep
August 22nd, 2016

The article goes on to cover that you will feel crappy after the full first nights sleep though because your body is in ‘sleep debt’ and if you have chronic poor sleep, or say are an insomniac.

Well, yeah… this explains A LOT.

Also I live in pretty much a constant state of stress. Hello, single mum with a plethora of mental health issues – the effects of which mean that when I relax I often spiral into trauma memories. So stress is my jam, its were I live baby. Yeah, I know its not something to brag about but I don’t have a whole lot of options here and quite frankly I excel in this area, so I’m feeling my dysfunctional oats.

There is one other option though, according to my scholarly level 58 minute research session. I could be a, wait for it…. Short sleeper. Oooooo Ahhhhh I hear you cry, what the fuck is a short sleeper. Well firstly, I kinda think the answers in your question but also its kinda not. I do the explaining well. Let me hand you back to a bonefide scientist and let her explain to you what a short sleeper is and then I can find out if I am one.

“The most perplexing group is people who sleep four to six hours and say they feel good.

Fu has been studying natural short sleepers for about 10 years. She’s found mutations on five genes that seem to change our need for sleep. When mice were genetically altered to express three of these mutations, they also slept less and didn’t appear to suffer otherwise. The group of about 50 natural short sleepers that Fu has found tends to be energetic, thin and optimistic.

People don’t belong in this group, Fu said, if they drink much coffee or tea to stay awake, or need to catch up on sleep on weekends or vacations. “

‘Short sleepers’ can get just 4 hours a night and feel fine. But is their health at risk?
by Stacey Burling MARCH 20, 2019

So, lets run me through the kinda check list in this article and see if I might, possibly be an X-Man

  • Don’t suffer from lack of sleep? Erm Check, it’s the entire premise of this article, hello!
  • Energetic? I mean Yah, after a lean nights sleep I’m feeling peppy as fuck boi!
  • Thin?define thin…
  • Optimistic? I mean, I’d say depending on my mental health, it’s a 50/50 shot, but as this is down is something else I reckon ‘Charles Exaviours School for Gifted Youngsters’ wouldn’t rule me out – and I don’t want to hear ‘But Sam you’re 35!’ Wolverine was hardly a spring chicken when he got there, so can it.

So basically, I’m pretty sure I’m a mutant and proud of it thank you, oh hang on theres one last paragraph…

*reads aloud … don’t belong in this group if they drink much coff…

NOPE. Not a short sleeper, well, I mean who wants to live with a man that can manipulate your mind anyway? Been there, done that – not for me.

So there you have it, I feel good when I’m stressed, Im chronichally sleep deprived (thanks Insomnia) and I’m likely gonna end up with some horrible disease – I said it was a 50/50 shot, stop judging my optimism.

Turns out there is some good news in all this though, you can always improve your sleep quality with information and support from a medical professional


And by having good sleep hygiene (seriously I hate this phrase it sounds like people are sleeping in crusty sheets and that’s why they have chronic sleep issues)

“Cut back on the caffeine. Put the devices away well before bedtime. Make sure your room is dark. Alcohol can disrupt sleep, so don’t drink too close to bedtime. Use your bed only for sleep and sex. Gradually move your bedtime earlier.”

Honestly, all of that sounds terrible, apart from the sex part BUT again I’d take their advice over my loosely based opinion.

Now if you excuse me, Ive got a coffee to drink while I edit this article on my laptop late at night on my bed. God I should get a gold star!

So what’s your sleep sin? Share it in the comments below and lets compare notes, or you can hit me up over on Instagram, which is where I live these days, on @mastressofnone

Until next time,

Sweet dreams!


Easing of Measures, Rising of Anxiety

I have been thinking a lot about this recently, if you follow me on IG *cough* @mastressofnone *cough* you will have seen me discuss this on my stories. My mental health has felt very, to use the technical term, recognised in the medical community – squiffy. That is to say one minute, I’m fine, I’m good, it’s all gravy baby and the next I’m reaching for the paper bag to deep breathe into. Now, my mental health is very yo-yo happy at the best of times but on top of the above mentioned clusterfuck, I have noticed a return of some old demons.

  • General feeling of disease
  • Waking up with heavy shame
  • Anxiety peaking a lot more and with more intensity
  • Insomnia is at its most productive
  • General feelings of irritability, overwhelm and sensory overload
  • My Bourne like vigilance

In the UK, lockdown measures are easing, so you can meet people outdoors, go to the pub (in the beer garden), non-essential shops are back etc and I noticed that the closer the world got to ’normal’ the less I felt I had a place in it. Yeah, turns out they are linked – who’d have thunk it?

Before we all walked around smelling our own breath and making weird mouth shapes cos no one could see them – I didn’t do a lot of ‘normal’ stuff, my life was basically lockdown already. I went out when necessary, I had a small support bubble and I tried not to make unnecessary trips, or leave my area. My mental health saw to it and even though I have dedicated my life’s work to me being around, each step in the right direction takes so much time, effort – a constant cycle of trial and error. In short, I hadn’t yet tackled my crippling social anxiety. Then lockdown happened and the weirdest thing came from it – I started to feel a little more normal. The world was known living like me and what the easing has proven is, the world didn’t want to. People are excited about going out, making plans, returning to their life’s and for me there is no return, I never left.

So, it makes sense I would feel this way, I’m becoming an outlier again, the world is separating themselves and its tough. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we are heading in the right direction in regard to Covid but Id be lying if I said it wasn’t difficult for me to see the world return to their normal, because it just further underlines how not normal I am.

I know I am not the only one, I had a lot of my friend reach out over DM and say, ‘OMG same’, so if you too are struggling with people’s joy of not having to live like you have to for your wellbeing, if you are jealous of peoples ease at returning or making plans, you are not alone. I am here- wanna talk drop me a dm or leave a comment, us non normal gotta stick together.

I’m weird, I like being weird. It is a compliment in my house to be labelled as such – so if you are weird to, whether you are happy about it or not and you feel like you have lost your belonging with the slow return to normal, just know that in the school cafeteria of life, you will always have a seat at my table.

What I’ve Learnt so far… Mumming. pt.1

I have been a parent now for just over 10 years now so, as I’m sure you can imagine I am a mother fudging expert on parenting, I should have a honouree degree on baking babies and knowing all there is to know about, not just my child but all the children of the world… hahahaha yeah except I’m not and I don’t, in fact, little secret for you here, I don’t have a Scoobies as to what the actual hell I’m doing, a good 78% of the time, because it’s really weird and I’m not sure I got this memo before I was a parent but children are real humans and what they needed last week no longer applies because they change and develop (I know, I couldn’t believe it either!). It’s a minefield where they keep moving the mines, but you know in like a fun way.

The eagle-eyed among you will have spotted that I have a good 22% of knowledge though, at least on my kid (another weird thing is not all kids are the same – its exhausting, I know) so I am uniquely qualified to share this knowledge of what I have learnt so far on my experience of mumming.

Eighty-One Hours aka Bye, Bye Sleep

My son was a week late, (which actually considering his personality fits him to a tee) I remember being massive and bloated, my feet hurt, my ankles hurt, everything bloody hurt come to think of it and I had become the cliché of just wanting ‘this thing out of me’. Not content with making me wait an extra seven days before he made his fashionably late entrance into the world, he then decided to take eighty-bloody-one hours to vacate himself from my vagina.

Now the nurses liked to tell me that some of those beginning hours when my cervix was doing a stretching act of Cirque Du Soleil magnitude, didn’t count because I was only at three centimetres and its not *technically labour until you hit four. TRUST ME IT FUCKING COUNTS.

Anyway, yes, eighty-one hours of ‘It totally counts Linda!!’ labour and in that time, I had 11 minutes sleep, my mum clocked it. Turns out though, that was some good training because for the first 6-8 weeks of my precious angel’s life, he would not keep his sweet mouth, the fuck shut. Sleep deprivation does weird things to a person, couple that with having to look after a little alien you suddenly realise you have no clue how to keep alive, early parenting is A LOT.

Side note- if you have what is known as a ‘good baby’ that sleeps through the night on a perfectly maintained routine:

1. How wonderful

2. No you don’t.

Baby Blues and Post Natal Depression

I have a history of mental health ‘issues’ so I was more at risk of said ‘Baby Blues and Post Natal Depression’ and boy did I get it, but it can effect anyone, in fact baby blues effects most new mothers as your hormones are everywhere, your body is changing and you haven’t seen sleep in what feels life before you were born. It’s obviously shit and not helped by people telling you to, ‘Enjoy this time with your baby, as it is precious and they grow so fast’ It does get better though, with a little time and support. What I would like to say on this is, its real, its ok, its normal, you are not a bad mum and talk to someone and ask for help – remember it takes a village.

Here’s a link to the NCT’s article on this subject, if you want to read more on it: https://www.nct.org.uk/parenting/baby-blues

Breastfeeding is a bit weird, right?

Now I can already hear people saying, ‘It’s beautiful’, ‘It’s the most natural thing on earth’ In theory, sure and I’m certainly not disputing your opinion or experience here, actually by the time it was right for me to stop – I didn’t want to, I’d grown to love it. That wasn’t my experience at first though, far from it actually! I mean my nipples had never been used as a food source before and it felt weird and wrong, it was uncomfortable and well (in case I haven’t covered this) weird! Pumping was on another level too, sitting there, in a room by yourself while an obnoxiously loud machine milks you, is not a high point and public feeding was always tricky for me because it made me feel uncomfortable to whip my nip out but I am stubborn to a fault, so I did it anyway (because babies are not patient), all the time acting confident and besides if anyone is side-eyeing you they can absolutely ‘Do one’. But, yeah. Never felt comfortable for me.

There is so much pressure on new mums to breastfeed, its rammed down your throat by everyone, Dr’s, nurses, midwifes, family, friends even posters that show an idyllic baby suckling on its mother with the slogan ‘Breast is Best’ slapped across it, I mean the midwife comes around to stare at your tits to make sure you are doing it right, for god’s sake. Yes, there are many benefits of breastfeeding and yes, I am pleased that I chose to do it for as long as I did BUT it was my choice, as it should be. You should do what you feel is right for you and your baby and support others to do the same.

Up to the age of 4, your child is actively trying to kill themselves.

I recently told a current-non-breeder friend (rather proudly) that I have successfully kept a small human alive, without fail, for almost eight years. They looked slightly uncomfortable and said something along the lines of ‘I’m not sure I’d put it that way’. I laughed because trust me, up until your child is four, it will have no regard for its life at all, in any capacity, ever, full-bloody-stop. It will basically be a bloody lemming, constantly looking for the next mortal threat and then charging at it with full glee.

It’s not a competition.

Oh, my good lord, if I had a penny for every time I heard, ‘Little Timmy’s just learnt to sing the national anthem in Latin while riding a unicycle with one leg and he’s only nine months’ I’d be moderately wealthy. Children will develop in their own time at their own pace, don’t compare yours with others, it will drive you mad. Also, you can’t speak or sing Latin as it is a dead language Linda, so little Timmy’s wasted everybody’s time.

All the fluids

If its in your child, expect it to be on you at some point. I have been peed on, got poo under my fingernails (always best if you realise this one straight away), puked on, bled on, spat on, had snot rubbed on me and cried on. Also, my new favourite thing is when I go to the loo, sit down and realise – I’m sitting in pee, it just brings a song to my heart (although not as much when I went for a wee and realised, I’m sitting in poo – that ones for the highlight reel!)

No Regard for Boundaries aka Genitals are Funny.

It is not an uncommon occurrence for my son to announce through the locked bathroom door, that he needs the toilet (even though I have just asked before I got in the bath and he insisted he was fine) and then defecating while making intense eye contact with me, as I’m clutching a towel to cover myself, while he launches into full conversation as his face goes beetroot.

Another new favourite of my son, is just whipping his penis out the top of his waistband and waiting to see if anyone notices before hysterically, nay, maniacally laughing. I have many examples of boundary issues with my spawn, including but not limited to:

Not knocking on my bedroom door before he bursts in

Standing over my sleeping body in the middle of the night, gently whispering mummy are you awake?

Always wanting to talk to me when I’m on the loo

Shouting ‘Penis’ any chance he gets, actually shouting about any private part.

Standing directly behind me, while I’m sat on the sofa – I can feel my hair being parted by his breath

Waiting until he sits on my lap to fart

Getting into my bed in the morning, from the bottom – the god damn bottom!!

Laughter is medicine.

There is no sound in this world that is more joyful to me than hearing my son laugh with his full heart – it is the most heart bursting-ly beautiful noise in the whole of existence and no matter what is going on in my life, it takes me from one to a hundred in a heartbeat. It is even better if I am the one that makes him laugh.

Prepare for heartbreak

Your kid is going to break your heart, it will happen, this is a fact. My son by the age of seven has had to deal with (in blinding succession) two grandparents and two pets dying. The pain of having to tell your child something, you know is going to shatter their world and then watching as the pieces fall is indescribable, you want to shield them from the truth, you want to take on all their pain, confusion and fear but you can’t and it is cripplingly hard.

On the positive side though, they will constantly make your heart burst when, they for example, from nowhere and for no reason tell you they love you more than anything, or give you the best cuddle in the world, or make you a love token in secret and present you with it while looking at you with more affection than you knew could exist in anyone, let alone someone so small.

Being scared shitless

When my son was just born, he lay in the hospital in his little crib next to me and the midwife came in and said, ‘You can dress him’ I literally had to be told to clothe my own child – that’s when I realised, I haven’t got a solitary clue on what the hell I’m doing and I’m not ready! I’m pleased to tell you I now make sure my son is clothed but the feeling is still there. Children are slippery little buggers and by the time you have figured out what is going on and what they like/need its to late, the problem is now obsolete and there’s a new set of circumstances you have no fucking clue what to do with. The only thing you can do is to try and make peace with your white-knuckle terror and do the best you can.

Not every moment is a teaching moment.

Biased as I am, I believe there has never been a kinder soul than the one that resides in my son (sorry Mother Theresa) I am so proud of his empathy, kindness and an ability to see others as equal human souls. I work very hard on instilling a certain moral code in him, so he can grow up to be the best human he can be. That being said, he isn’t always going to want to listen to a twenty-minute monologue on the importance of true equality or how we must educate ourselves on others as it is not their responsibility to do so, when all he’s asked is if he can have a cookie.

They will use your words against you.

I’m not saying I regret teaching my son about the importance of consent, or teaching him the phrase, ‘My body, my choice’ but when you are trying to remind your child, for example, food equals life, so they need to eat enough, as not to shuffle of this mortal coil and that this was their favourite food two days ago, so they can’t possibly hate it and then they repeat back to you, ‘Its my body, my choice’ it is a toss-up between feeling huge pride at a card well played (because how do argue against yourself and the fundamentals of respecting each-others bodies) and putting your head in the oven.  Which seems a good time to add this – Pick your battles. Not everything is worth it, tactical war far is the name of the game here, sometimes you need to give them a win as to artfully manipulate the battle field at a later date. I try to have a core set of values that we live by and the rest is negotiable.

Sorry, who’s in charge?!

You will not always feel that you have the status in this parent child situation and to be honest its because you don’t and in these moment you will find you will turn to, pleading, bribing or from nowhere throwing out some trope that you hated as a kid and realising you have become a hypocrite after swearing while the kid still gestated inside you that you would never be ‘that parent’ In any of these cases your kid has won but fear not they have to go to bed earlier than you and you get cake and wine, so who really lost?

Playing with your child is supposed to be fun, right?

Yeah… ish. I love playing with my son when its something I want to do but I’m not always in the mood to be told, in excruciating detail what the rules are of any given imaginary game and then finding out the only rule is, you do exactly as I say and there is no room for some light improv. Playing is fun, sure but sometimes its ok to fake it when on the inside your counting the seconds, or you know passing the buck to a relative…

In closing I would like to say this, you are enough. You. Are. Enough. (it bared repeating) Every parent is scared shitless and the ones you look at with their perfect family having it all? They are just awesome at hiding the fact they don’t have a bloody clue either. So, don’t try and be ‘the perfect family’ instead be beautifully unperfect and learn the rope one day at a time, its much more fun when you don’t have to try and fit everyone into a mould that doesn’t exist anyway. Also, as one last little piece of advice, you don’t need to take every piece of advice, you just don’t. Keep doing you, learn and grow with your kid and just know, if its feeling impossible right now, there is always cake and wine.


DISCLAIMER: The following article is representative of my opinion regarding feminism and human decency. I in no way claim to be the feminist police nor am I the expert, authority or monolith on all things. If it feels like I’m angry at any point during this article, it’s because I am.

Oooooooooooo, I know right?!

I’m going there.

What’s that picture of you ask?

Well, it’s my high horse atop a soap box. I’m climbing on cos I’ve got some shit to get off my chest mate…

‘Feminism, the belief in social, economic, and political equality of the sexes.’

Feminism definition as given by the https://www.britannica.com/topic/feminism

I agree with this definition. I would, however, love to make some additions, caveats or appendixes (if you will) to bring it in line with my idea of feminism- and wouldn’t you know I’ve got my social justice fingers flexed and I’m about to smash out some salty truths.

Let’s all just pretend that didn’t sound how it sounded…. yeah?


Here are my 10 reasons, (in my less than humble opinion) you are NOT a feminist Sandra

Firstly, let me get this out of the way real quick, this is not a post about judging women’s bodies and sexuality, so if you’ve come looking to read an article all about slut shaming, I’ve got two things to say to you,

1. You are the absolute worst and in the wrong place,


2. If you still want to clutch your pearls, you won’t have to wait long…

1. You are not a feminist if you… Slut shame

Whose body is it?

It is a simple question, right?


Oh, so many people like to weigh in on a woman’s body and what she does with it. Slut shaming is not only gross but it’s highly dangerous. Questions like, ‘What was she wearing?’ Would not fucking exist if we didn’t have at best: an unconscious bias and at worst a sick vigilante fetish over ‘the bad kind’ of woman, ‘getting what they deserve’ – what’s the ‘bad kind’ you ask? Well that just depends on the entirely arbitrary set of ever-changing fucking guidelines we as women are supposed to follow as to not be ‘Othered’ or seen as ‘One of those women’, you know Sluts, Whores, Strippers. All the women that society deems beneath us, even if:

  • Men who enjoy heterosexual sex and have a lot of it are celebrated but the women whom they are having it with are somehow – what? Disgusting? Well, they can’t be that disgusting if they are catching dick all day. A woman’s moral character is not linked to her enjoyment of orgasms nor the frequency of them or the volume of partners she has. Remember the saying, no one gonna wanna buy the cow when they get the milk for free? SOME PEOPLE JUST WANT MILK, FREE OR NOT. Oh, and don’t get me started on comparing a fully human woman to a fucking animal…
  • Whores, prostitutes, hookers wouldn’t exist if their service wasn’t in constant demand and quite frankly, the idea that it is illegal to trade sex for money is ludicrous to me, make it fucking legal and you cut out all the sleazy underbelly namely predatory pimps and unsafe conditions. Yet again we except that for men, its just who they are, they have sex. But it’s so repellent that women have sex with them, especially if they enjoy but god forbid, they make a business from their pussy – that’s just for white male CEO’s. As Sherlock says in Elementary, ‘All sex costs something, at least hookers are honest about the price’
  • Oh, and strippers? How demeaning, you strip for money? I mean first of all I’m not here for the fucking debate of ‘Is it degrading or is it empowering?’ I’m pretty sure most people who engage in this debate are not now, nor have ever been strippers. It’s the adage of money that gets people really riled; most women will get naked during their lifetime but if they spin a profit – well then get thee to a nunnery. Also, you wanna judge strippers but your pole fitness class be cute right?! Fuck all the way off until you reach the sea.

To walk the line of being an acceptable as a woman is a constantly shifting minefield because god forbid you go to far the other way and now, you’re a prude. All women are human and worthy of being treated as such, so shove this tier-based pyramid scheme of chauvinistic, misogynistic bullshit right up your hoop.

2. You are not a feminist if you… are Pro-Life

Now, I’m not talking about your own personal choices here, you may hold any opinion you wish in regards to your own reproductive organs but stay the fuck away from mine. You cannot come for other women’s right to choose. The end. I’m not here to give you persuasive arguments about certain circumstances. All circumstances. Every. Last. Fucking. One. Are valid. If its not your body you don’t get a fucking vote. Also, you are not pro-life, you are anti-abortion. The term pro life is fucking misleading. It makes you sound like you give a damn about the woman who you are trying to legally control, or the baby for a matter of fact that you no longer give a shit about once it’s been birthed.

3. You are not a feminist if you… are a TERF

TERF stands for Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminist in case you were unaware of the term. It means that they believe only humans born with a vagina are women. Its abhorrent and harmful and it tries to erase the validity of Trans women who quite frankly deal with more than enough shit already.

Trans Women are Women.

The end.

You cannot believe in the equality of the sexes while denying an entire portion of a sex exists.

4. You are not a feminist if you… Think White Women are the Lynch Pin of Feminism

There are so many examples throughout history of white feminists throwing their Black and Brown sisters in arms under the fucking bus to ‘advance the cause’ and if you think this is just a problem of the past, then you my friend are part of the problem. As a white woman I cannot speak to the struggles of Black and Brown women, so instead below are articles written by women of colour about the past and present problems with White Feminism.



5. You are not a feminist if you…  Vote or Support People Whose Agenda Hurts Women and/or Minorities

This is simple, if you are voting for officials who have a track record or an intention of sexist, racists, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, fat phobic or any other fucking views that hurts women or minorities – you are not a feminist, you are an arsehole.

This includes buying products or services from known bigots.

6. You are not a feminist if you… Promote Diet Culture

Well, here we are again folks. Women’s bodies, how should they look? Let’s ask advertisers, shall we? The rise in diet teas, waist trainers, diet pills, ‘thinspiration’, photo shop culture – to name but a few whose aim is to profit off fear and scare women into taking up less space and be more palatable for the male gaze has taken on an entirely new form with social media and celebrity/influencer endorsements.

We are not simply our flesh.

We have a right to love, respect, dignity and human rights no matter our size.

Fat is not a dirty word.

Thin is not the gold standard.

 No body shape or size is an indication of someone’s personality, work ethic, health or morals.

Everybody has a swimsuit body.


The above link amazing place to learn (quietly) about fat women’s lived experience’s and the toxic effect that diet culture has on their lives.

7. You are not a feminist if you… Don’t Speak Up on Other Inequalities

Just as life doesn’t happen in a vacuum, nor does injustice. So, to hold the opinion that feminism is the ONLY cause worth your time shows not only the fact you are part of the White Feminism problem but also that you are:


b. Wilfully ignorant

c. Intentionally bigoted


It’s this simple; no one can be equal until everyone is equal.

8. You are not a feminist if you… If You Pick and Choose Your Feminist Beliefs (i.e., men still pay)

You cannot demand equality of the sexes on one hand and then lament the fall of chivalry (which was not exactly a pillar of equality sis) on the other. Nor can you believe it is your right to have dates paid for, doors opened and other ‘perks’ of patriarchy.

9. You are not a feminist if you… If You Believe ‘The Future is Female’


 Isn’t that the whole fucking point?! We are trying to dismantle the patriarchy which is toxic to all genders, not build a matriarchy which is just as problematic.

10. You are not a feminist if you… Don’t Support Other Women

Internalised misogyny, oh how thou art a shit stain. Look it’s a real thing, surprising amounts of sexist views on women come from other women and its our job to pick that shit apart, question the source and grow so we can pass on facts not propaganda. Part of this work is supporting other women, particularly the most underserved e.g., Women of Colour and those in the LGBTQIA+ community in our number.

In summary, being a feminist to me means simply to support ALL women. Intersection is fundamental and other movements for equality are not separate. This list is not exhaustive and I in no way claim to be an expert or monolith of women’s experience.

Just be decent, accept you’ll fuck up

Pledge to learn about other women’s lived experiences

Listen more than you speak

Basically, do your best not to be a twat.