Bitch-Slapped by Geriatric Motherhood.......

But I wouldn't have it any other way.

I’ve been passing for a 29 year old since I was 12…it was very useful then. I could buy cigarettes and alcohol and get into clubs but now I’m 42 and old enough to be grandma, passing for 29 is just plain confusing.

On the outside my life paints a picture that is full of vivacity and energy and small babies that I carry ( mine by the way ) small babies that want and need everything all the time….but on the inside my body thinks I should be pottering, gardening, napping, nibbling and slowing down. Instead my life is the perfect storm of toddlers, aging parents and career crises. Quite frankly, I agree with my body on this one…I would love to eat cake and potter all day and give the babies back to the young folk once they’ve stopped being cute. But I can’t..and sometimes its wonderful and sometimes its scary and I’ve only myself to blame..I wanted it all…or rather I wanted none of it till it was almost too late but got there in the nick of time…

I like to think what I lack in stamina I make for in emotional maturity and wisdom…sadly that’s not often the case…

Most days my diet is awful. I eat anxiety for breakfast…exhaustion for lunch and disappointed rage for dinner…plagued with shoulds and musts about how to act and what to look like, I find it maddening to have to cope with a 22 month old and a 6 year old with a backlog of my own decision fatigue, compassion fatigue, body shame and personal grooming politics, road rage, parking rage, religious alienation, spiritual frustration, unfulfilled yearnings as well as avoiding email scams, acid attacks, hair dye and napping.

Oh universe I am tired….my centre of gravity has shifted and shifted again and again and now I am spinning and the things that hold me together are really good salads and philosophy, poetry, songs and stories, friendship and kindness. At one time it was wine, pills, therapy, unreliable lovers and Netflix ( still is sometimes )

Give me that old time religion…give me that old fashioned morphine…give me a way to run away from the madness.

And yet….as soon as I step away from the cacophony…I realise that I need nothing. I have all the privileges that exist for a woman with this colour skin in this city and this life…I don’t need somebody elses perfect…their fears and demands. I have…my own map, mirror and my own clock….42 years and counting.

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Come and hear me this month in Hoxton on Friday 19th.....

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