submitting to womanly balance

confessional #6

Is it possible to return from the dead when you’ve only been gone for three days?

I’m like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Except I’m not half cool enough to be a phoenix, and ashes would be far too James Bond for someone like me. It feels more fitting to say that I am a pigeon struggling to take off, but eventually lumbering into the air once more.

It has felt peculiar to be away from the small yet wonderful community I have found here on Substack these past few days. Please don’t misunderstand, I haven’t been off galivanting anywhere (I wish) (also, humans really did a solid when they came up with the word ‘galivanting’). I have been fighting an old friend, who after months of being reasonably in check, decided to rear its ugly head. OCD traipsed back into my life with a panache (another phenomenal word) that I haven’t experienced in ages. Somehow, every damn time it reappears, it makes itself more convincing than ever before.

It sucked. It still does suck, because mental health flare-ups are not only three days long. I wish they were. It’s just that this is the first day I’ve been functional and not wanting to perform a self-lobotomy, and it also coincided with my Confessional upload day.

If there is one thing I take comfort in, it’s offering my life on a platter for Substack to consume. The good, the bad, the nipples.

On that note: the update on my leg nipples. If anyone is curious. For anyone who missed last week’s Confessional, I announced that I appeared to be growing spots on my legs that resembled nipples. They are not nipples, but it’s fun to laugh at your body doing strange things. Well, reader, you will be pleased to know that I am down to only three nipples. Two expected ones, and the other being the stubborn one on my leg that just won’t go.

In other good news, I am slowly but surely training myself to accept decaffeinated coffee. I hate to admit it, but the propaganda behind it is right. I do indeed feel less like a laxative-taking, jittery beast with a high heart rate. I am now simply a jittery beast with a high heart rate for medical reasons, instead of coffee-related ones.

A win is a win.

The Goods:

Highlight of the week:

Remembering the existence of a tiny knitting shop in my local town! Oh god, it was so cute. I must’ve spent decades in there staring at all of the beautiful skeins. And hanks, because apparently that’s a word to describe a ball of wool.

The owner of the shop was sitting in a corner knitting up a cardigan, and told me to “holler” at her if I needed anything. No one has ever asked me to holler at them before; it was rather exciting.

She was so cool that I accidentally lied to her. Does this happen to anyone else? I was buying some wool, and it wasn’t ball-shaped yet. She asked me if I had the equipment at home to spin the skein/hank/ball myself, and I just panicked and said “yes.” I don’t have any equipment, so I spent the evening getting an arm ache doing it manually.

Most humbling moment of the week:

I am forever being humbled by things. The King Humbler is getting rejected for jobs. I continue to get absolutely battered by the UK job market. I think I would stand a better chance of being thrown into a group of lions at this point. At least they won’t ask me to write a cover letter.

An honourable mention goes to me trying to drink a tea called ‘Women’s Balance’, and continuing to be as stable as a matchstick in a hurricane. I also don’t like herbal tea, so I admit I was somewhat setting myself up for failure.

There I was, taking a photo of the whole pink ensemble before I tasted it, thinking it was going to realign my life. The sentiment was nice. And the teabag had a motivational quote attached, so not all is lost. I will keep trying to force my taste-buds to submit to womanly balance.

Pictures of the week:

My (not so) life-changing tea

The most precious angel

HANKS of wool

It’s just a short Confessional this Wednesday. Consider this me dipping my toe back into being a human again, and I’ll see you on Sunday as normal!

All my love,

Emma