I have had a really hard time this month.
On any given day, I am probably offering emotional support to at least three different men in different ways.
I don’t begrudge lending people my shoulder, my ear, my arms – not ever. I have a lot to give in that regard and I want to share it (which is why I eventually want to become a therapist).
But sometimes it makes me wonder what these men would do if they didn’t have me; or what men in general would do if the women they rely on for support disappeared.
I thought very hard about making a post about this.
There are a lot of things I could talk about – the NHS, how various -isms and mental health intersect, how one day is not enough, how saying ‘just talk’ is not enough – but I decided what I want to do is talk about my experiences with therapy, because I think they are hopeful and if there’s one thing most of us need lately, it’s hope.
Strap in, this is going to be a pretty long one.
[Trigger warning for discussion of weight, body image, disordered eating, etc.]
Last Sunday, I woke up in a hotel in Leeds and went for a shower. I looked in the mirror and within a few minutes I began having a body image meltdown.
So today I quote-tweeted a thread on why anti-racist people like me don’t bother debating Nazis (full thread here) and I particularly focused on this:
This whole thread is great but this in particular is why I don’t debate racism etc. any more https://t.co/86q3Ka6Ck1
— abrutallysoftwoman (@Alecto101) 4 September 2017
I’m home now so I’m just going to elaborate a little on it – particularly as this is still a sticking point with many of my friends and acquaintances.