Do you ever feel that you are a complete mystery to yourself? As in: Who IS this person? She is unrecognisable from the me of 30 seconds ago. As in: Roses are red violets are blue, I’m an enigma to myself and so am I and so is she who is also me. Oh God.
This is because we are all more than one woman. Here are just a few of us:
Wonder Woman: I wonder where this hair came from? I wonder where my dreams went? I wonder where my keys are? I wonder if I’ll ever get un-tired? I wonder if I should make a will? I wonder what my house is worth?
The Pervert: Everywhere I look I see hot stuff everywhere. I may abandon everyone in my life for one night with that hairy guy on the tube. Inexplicable and inappropriate horn descends. A new kind of needy.
See Saw Woman: Not my circus, not my monkeys. Zero fucks left to give. Don’t want to hear about the pain. Cut to: I must decant my entire house into bags for the charity shop and I can’t bear how beautiful children are and that cat is making me cry. And back again.
Overthinking Woman: All night, every night. Small problems become total disintegration. Minor rows became destroyed relationships. Tight finances become homelessness. Challenges become vicious enemies. I need to get the hell out of my own way and mutate immediately into…
Unthinking Woman: I *think* I am bad at maths. I assume I can’t manage lateral thought. But when it the situation demands – and the adrenaline soars – I am able to solve problems in nano-seconds. Otherwise known as Get It Done Girl. Except when it comes to tax returns when I become, Get Someone Else To Get It Done Girl.
Oh Spiritual One: I go to one yoga class, brew a warm milk and turmeric then connect with the universe for about 15 seconds. Currently the most inactive part of me.