The twitchiness is twirling my earring. It’s persistent today. Then it picks up my phone again, scrolling, tracing the well worn path from app to app, email to email, like a tiger pacing in a zoo. I snap out of my trance, put the phone down and turn back to this question blinking quietly on the page. I write a few sentences, then perhaps pick up the phone again or go to the fridge and mindlessly stuff something into my mouth, or I go the bathroom and inspect my face for spots

I remember longing and searching and craving as a child. Was that really it? I don’t know if that counts as my spiritual journey, I’ve never considered it before now. I just knew that I didn’t fit, that something was wrong and I really wanted to know what it was. I was looking for the truth of who I was, but in the small literal sense, like surely I didn’t really come from THESE people?! Does everyone think this at that age? I used to talk to the moon and ask for my real pare

There is a gentle revolution taking place, a gradual turning of the tide. It’s not big or showy, this revolution, it’s quiet and subtle, and it isn’t rigid or fixed, its evolving and changing as frequently as the weather. The whisper is getting louder. It’s on Woman’s Hour pretty much every week, so something must be happening. We ladies in midlife have a responsibility to each other and to future generations of women. I can feel it very viscerally, deeply, yeah maybe even