My day started with the realisation that Ace’s whole school uniform and PE Kit were still in the washing machine wet from the wash last night.

It had been my intention to hang it all out last night before going to bed (we don’t have a tumble dryer) but due to being so overworked (and yes underpaid) I fell asleep at 8pm and missed the end of the cycle.

While I’m sat here naively imagining the clothes being dry in half an hour on the radiators, I’m feeling defeated and fed up.

I’m fed up with responsibility I’m fed up with having the worries of 6 kids, 2 of whom are already battling to find their place in a fiercely competitive and financially crippled world

I’m fed up with the conflict of loving my kids with every part of my being, but feeling resentful that my life is not (and never will be) my own, because they will always come before me.

I’m fed up with having to decide which piece of rubbish can be recycled and which will sit rotting in landfill for a zillion years, don’t get me started on the guilt I feel about plastic

I’m fed up with the inequality between men and women

I’m fed up feeling guilty for living a comfortable life knowing others are struggling

I’m fed up watching politicians fucking about with their playground games which inevitably  affects us all

I’m fed up with feeling like I’m getting it all wrong even though I’m trying my very best

I’m fed up with feeling sad for my boys when I’m constantly bombarded with memes of ‘The Future is Female’ what message does it give them?

I’m fed up that my daughter is growing up in a heavily filtered, selfie obsessed, superficial bubble that chips away, every day at her own self-worth

I’m fed up not knowing how to make it all good for everyone who’s finding life tough

I’m fed up with colouring my hair every 2 weeks to stave off the persistent greys (see the photo)

And I’m fed up with being fed up!

There’s nothing anyone can say to make me feel better when I get like this, there is no quick fix. If I suppress it and put up resistance it just silently ticks away and then comes back harder and faster.

The best thing for me to do right now is to acknowledge it, allow it and then when I feel stronger, fuck it off.

I am giving myself permission to feel like shit while the storm is here, to stay the fuck away from social media, to swerve the news and give up trying to fix the world alongside trying to raise the next generation as sound rounded adults instead of entitled little pricks who believe the world owes them a living.

Instead, I give myself permission to be human

Contrary to popular belief, I may be a woman, but I am NOT nor do I strive to be Wonder Woman,  I simply don’t have the capabilities to do it all, even if we as women are led to believe we could or we should.

You see, Wonder Woman was a fictional character, she’s not real, she doesn’t have the daily struggles of life, nor does she ever have a bad hair day. She doesn’t have to pay bills or wipe shit off a kids arse. She’s doesn’t show insecurities when taking on the world in a pair of skimpy hot pants and a boob tube. She doesn’t have break outs or have to endure the weekly shop. She has all the defence she needs from this harsh world readily available  flick of a wrist, zero fragility there AND she looks hot, ALL THE TIME! Does she even have untimely visits from Aunt Flo? Will she have to navigate the murky and raging world of the peri-menopause? It’s highly unlikely as SHE’S NOT A REAL WOMAN!

In fact the constant eagerness to compare ourselves to an imaginary superhero, just loads on another bloody thing to achieve in an already over loaded, high pressure position that being a woman already brings.

I have no desire to be Wonder Woman, l just wanna make it through this thing called life with minimum drama, to feel the highs and the lows and to find some peace with just being me.