Who am I?
It’s a question many women tend to avoid, dodge, or silence, not because they’re shallow, or that they don’t care, but because answering it honestly can feel like standing bollox naked in a cold wind. And I should know that because I asked myself that same question years ago, long before I had the language, the confidence, or the courage to answer it without flinching.
And do you know what I have realised? the more I’ve worked with women over the years, in recovery spaces, community projects, workshops, in those quiet one‑to‑one moments, it has struck me have how common the avoidance of asking a three worded question, is for so many women.
But this blog isn’t about bashing women, it about helping them better understand themselves, without feeling guilty and because I don’t believe it’s our fault. This isn’t a woman problem, it’s a social one because this has more to do with how we have been brought up. And this isn’t about bashing parents parenting neither, because let’s face it they have been conditioned the same as us all, as have our male counterparts, but I’m not writing about men.
For women the conditioning starts early, women aren’t taught or encouraged to explore who we are, instead we are taught how to perform who we’re supposed to be.
As girls, we’re raised to be nurturers. Caretakers. Peacekeepers. We learn to tune into everyone else’s needs while ignoring our own. We’re praised for being “good,” which usually means being quiet, helpful, and undemanding. We are trained to be agreeable, polite, helpful, and endlessly emotionally available, xxck me the list goes on, but what gets me the most is that this isn’t accidental. It’s structural and its everywhere
Families reinforce it.
Workplaces reinforce it.
Schools reinforce it.
Media reinforces it.
Religion reinforces it.
Culture reinforces it.
So, it’s hardly surprising, so many women have become so skilled at measuring their value by how much they give to others, instead of how much they give to themselves, don’t have a clue where their authentic self ends, and where their conditioning began.
Plus, most of us have been too busy being the emotional glue that holds families and friendships together. The ones people turn to, to smooth things over, keep the peace, to absorb the tension, and carry the emotional load no one else wants to touch. But what happens when the glue runs out? What happens when the woman who holds everything together starts to come apart?
That’s exactly what happened to me
For years I wore rose‑tinted glasses and bought into every social norm going. Like a contortionist, I bent myself into shapes that didn’t fit, trying to please everyone around me. I played the roles. I kept the peace. I did what I thought was expected of me, especially as a woman. When the emotional strain got too loud, I found drugs, a quick way to numb the needs I’d buried while I was busy nurturing everyone else. They helped [temporarily] to blur out the mental mess I didn’t have the tools to deal with. I continued to prioritise everyone over myself, and I kept that act going until the whole thing finally snapped.
Sat in a mental institution, lost, scared, and disillusioned, all I could think was: This can’t be it. There has got to be more to life than this. The only problem was, I didn’t have a clue what “more” looked like. I didn’t have the confidence, to even consider an alternative to what was a shit show of a life and on top of that I was scared shitless of getting it wrong. But beneath all the doubts, something in me whispered that change was non‑negotiable.
It was months after being discharged back into a unhealthy environment when I realised my ex wasn’t ever going to change, but that I could. So, I left with nothing but myself and my kids. I’ve talked before about the moment I realised fear was running my life. That moment came after reading Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway, a book a support worker at a women’s hostel gifted me after I left my ex.
That book didn’t just give me courage, it put me on the path of asking better questions. Hard questions. Questions that forced me to look at my choices, my patterns, my relationships, and my sense of possibility. It showed me how fear had convinced me that staying small was safer than taking up space.
For me that was the beginning of my real self‑enquiry, or as I refer to as ‘having a word wi me sen’ But here’s the thing about self‑enquiry: once you see something in yourself, you cannot un see it. You can delay acting on it. You can pretend it’s not there. But deep down it is, it never goes away, because there’s always a sense of something missing, something that refuses to disappear, much like an irritable itch that won’t go away, until you have scratched it…
And I am still scratching it…
So, my quest to answer the question ‘Who am I’ continues. Over the years, I have realised that my sense of identity and purpose is constantly changing and evolving, and I am finally ok with that.
I’ve come to see myself as a collection of seasons: some are loud, some quiet, some painful, some are full of light. But each one leaves its mark. Each one teaches me something.
I’m learning to meet myself as a changing thing and a story still being written, and I have realised that there is something freeing in that. No pressure to be finished. No need to hold myself to an old version of who I used to be.
I’m just creating a safe space and the right conditions to grow.
So, before I wrap up I’m gonna leave you with this question
“What part of you is quietly shifting beneath the surface as you give yourself permission to evolve?”
Love Fordy
#unapologeticwriter
#haveawordwithyourself
Remember – I don’t write for financial reward or gain. I want to help share my lived experience with others, hoping it helps. Plus, I love to write, so if you fancy getting the occasional email (NO SPAM) with the most up-to-date blogs from yours truly, please feel free to subscribe at the bottom of the main page.