Six women

The gods were smiling on me last night. They sent a car to light my way home. I love having a vehicle ahead of me on the Wakehurst Parkway for three reasons:

Hopefully the ghosts who haunt it will visit the first car in the convoy
The car in front might know how to use their high beams better than me
Whether they know how to use their high beams or not, I’ll still be able to see the road way better than if I was driving alone, as my night vision is terrible

I don’t usually drive the Wakehurst Parkway on a Thursday night, but I was feeling stressed and in need of DD’s calming influence. I bought the kids chicken burgers for their dinner, then drove up to his place to be soothed.

It’s been a hectic week that has left me feeling a little frayed around the edges. Much like driving the Wakehurst Parkway at night, I’m finding it difficult to see the road ahead.

I am working really hard with my freelancing and Drinks Digest, but I am wondering if it’s the right direction to take.

Hopefully I will work out the career stuff soon.

I tend to obsess when I am stressed. Since I had a car lighting my way home last night, my brain was free to fixate.

I started thinking about the people I would blast on my blog if the world was ending in a week’s time.

Cheery, huh? But it does feel a bit end of days as we battle this damn COVID stuff.

If the world was ending in a week’s time, I wouldn’t need to worry about consequences or conflict. I could say what is really on my mind.

I considered who I would take to task. There were six women.

You’d think my ex would be in the mix, but no. When I think about him and our divorce, I don’t feel angry, just sad. It will always be one of my great regrets that we didn’t realize the roles we were both playing in the downfall of our relationship.

I said all the angry things I wanted to say to him when he left. There are only healing words left in me now.

But I’ve held back with the six women. The angry stuff has only been inside my head, not spoken out loud.

I am furious that each of them wanted me to be less rather than more. I yearn to be more and valued for it.

I wrote a story this week that quoted the co-founder of Walk Free, a global human rights organisation that aims to eradicate modern slavery within our lifetime. Grace Forrest recently noted in The Australian: “If your feminism doesn’t include the women who make your clothes, it’s not really feminism.”

My riff on it would be: “If your feminism involves oppressing other women, it’s not really feminism.”

Women should lift each other up, not tear each other down. We all deserve a living wage and to feel emotionally, mentally and physically safe.

I didn’t feel emotionally or mentally safe with those six women.

Fortunately, I’ve met many wonderful women too, both at work and outside it. I am surrounded at age 53 by female friends who love and accept me for who I am. They believe in me and want the best for me.

It’s a wonderful gift.

Hopefully I’ll eventually learn to let the negative stuff go, even when I’m overthinking on haunted highways.

PS The eldest stumbled across an echidna on a bushwalk yesterday – how cool is that?