January Favourites

+ 1 bonus essay, reading recommendations & more

January is probably my least favourite month; to say I’m glad it’s finally over is an understatement.

Christmas has come to an end, and with it goes the good cheer and general niceties. Decorations? Gone. Pay day is even longer away so budgets are shorter. Back to the office we go! Back to the grind!

I’m a chronically ill person; by the end of last year, I felt a little bit like I’d been.. forgotten. The lack of social invites for any kind of Christmas activity were phrased as ‘we didn’t invite you because we didn’t think you’d come.’ I’d be lying if I didn’t say this is/was upsetting. The matter grows more when you’re ghosted - to turn up to a venue and no one else has arrived, as they’ve gone out having forgotten you. You sit in the cold, no energy left, by proxy. I couldn’t even cry any more - it’s just too much.

For January I try to pack out my calendar. Case in point; the first activity for this year was to make my very own bespoke lipstick, which included it being melted down into place.

‘Pink Frosting’ has become my hero item in my handbag, complete with a nifty magnetic seal on the lid. It’s cheerful, a quick swipe elevates the mood.

In the spirit of solidarity with chronically ill individuals who may have been in the same situation, I’ve made a paid-for post free to view - because more content, yay! Click below to read:

A Letter To My Cyst-ers*

I also feel a little hopeless, more than I care to admit, when it comes to book writing. There is a plethora of disability related books to come this year; I’ve got my mitts on a proof of Who Wants Normal? by Frances Ryan. Holy Moly, this is an absolute cracker of a book - where has it been all my life? Every disabled woman is going to need a copy. Give it to us at the point of diagnosis!

I wish I was a part of this uptake. I’ve written for The Bookseller about my current situation; that feels hopeless, but the stories, these voices, live and spark a wildfire inside my head. I don’t want to self publish, and leave them to the hinterland of cyberspace. So many disabled people contacted me and spoke to me in person about this piece, which was just the nicest thing - to be seen for your work. You shout into a void sometimes, knocking on every door. Silences are made to be broken. Shame dies this way, meaning the story can finally be told.

This month’s favourites email is a tour-de-force; maybe grab a drink before reading. We have photos, resources, galore.

Coming up on The Disabled Feminist: Why does adaptive beauty matter? | Behind the scenes at London Fashion Week | How to ace self employment & a webinar announcement