You know the girls’ toilets on a night out?

The place where nothing is off limits.

The place where you can walk in not knowing anyone but then walk out five minutes later knowing someones entire family and relationship history.

The place where you’ll be casually washing your hands whilst telling a stranger you’ll help sort her eye liner our after.

You’ll tell another woman how gorgeous she is, reassure another and discuss your sex lives as though you’ve known each other for YEARS.

No shame. No embarrassment. No worry. No fear.

Just girls being girls.

Women being there for women.

Well, all of that?

That is exactly what I want The Ladies Room to feel like.

A little room of the internet where we can shut the door, put down our bags, pick up a drink and just talk.

Zero expectations.

No pretending we’ve got our lives completely figured out.

No “perfect woman” bollocks.

And even better?

NO MEN.

Just women chatting shit with each other about the things we all collectively understand and want to offload to each other about and maybe even feel alone with.

Relationships. Friendships. Dating. Sex. Work. Money. Confidence. Mental health. Body image. Family. Getting older. Feeling lost. Feeling behind. Health. Lifestyle. Motherhood. Sisterhood. Marriage. You fucking name it… It’s going to be discussed in The Ladies Room.

BUT, here is where it gets really fucking exciting…

YOU GET TO DECIDE WHAT WE TALK ABOUT

Yep, that’s right. As part of my new feature - The Ladies Room, paid subscribers will be able to send me your questions, dilemmas, confessions and “am I alone?” moments - all anonymous (unless you state otherwise).

How’s it going to work?

I will go through and collect them throughout the month and then once a month, we’ll have an actual Ladies Room Conversation, I will have chosen, written and created a post that includes the submissions and we just fucking TALK about it all.

And yes…

They will be anonymous, unless you want me to mention you.

So, do not worry if you’re thinking

“I can’t ask anyone this”

“Is it just me who feels like this?”

“Am I being unreasonable"“

“Am I being weird?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Because chances are, you will not be alone and another woman is wondering the exact same thing.

I am so fucking excited about this, because one of the reasons I created I’m Just A Woman was to help and empower other women and this… Well, this just feels so right.

I want it to feel like we are actually in a room together.

Tell me the goss and I’ll give you my honest thoughts.

I’ll give you my goss and I wanna hear your thoughts.

Let’s laugh together, cry together.

I do not ever want anyone to feel alone, I know how that feels and it is fucking shit.

I’m not a professional. I’m no expert.

I’m Just A Woman that wants be there for you, to empower you, to lift you up and ultimately make you feel fucking unstoppable.

So…

Welcome to The Ladies Room.

The door is officially open.

And I can’t wait to see what gets brought through it

More information soon…

Jodie

I’m Just A Woman

xoxo

PAID SUBSCRIBERS WILL ALSO GET…

• FREE I’m Just A Woman affirmations

• 20% discount on my first book “The Mindset Glow Up”

• Exclusive posts and personal insights

• Access to The Ladies Room and monthly conversations

• The chance to submit your own questions, dilemmas and confessions

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You know that feeling don’t you?

When you’ve worked so hard for something, or you’ve achieved something you’ve dreamed about, or stepped into a new version of yourself… only for that little voice in your head to whisper:

“Who do you think you are?”

“This isn’t going to last forever you know”

Yep that’s her. That’s our sister that we don’t ever wanna know - imposter syndrome.

She’s a fucking pain in the vagina.

I hate to say it as well but especially if you’re a woman, chances are you’ve experienced it way more times than you dare to even count.

She always tries to ruin your fun, right?

That promotion you worked so fucking hard for, she steps in and tries to convince you it was just “luck”.

That business you’ve started? She makes you compare yourself to people who have been doing it for years (like that’s ever going to be fair or matter, ugh).

Them boundaries that you’ve started setting, the way you have learned to speak up for yourself and step into your fucking power.

Our girl, imposter cannot help but make you feel like you’re a fraud.

Just when you think you’ve gotten rid of bad habits, sleepless nights and shit tons of doubt.

Imposter comes along and is 10x worse because it makes you just think… Well, now what?

You’ve jumped through fucking fire to get to where you are but then suddenly find yourself feeling uncomfortable, as though this was never meant to be your life.

It’s all just been a free trial run and now it’s time to pay.

Fuck that.

Imposter syndrome is related to anxiety - thinks she’s looking out for you but in reality is just causing more issues.

I think women especially deal with imposter syndrome way more because of how big a deal “stepping out” of what is “expected” of us has become.

I think it’s because for far too long women’s success has always been dumbed down to make us feel like we are just tits and teeth.

“You only got that role because you’re pretty”

“You only got that job because you’re married to a man of power”

“You only passed your exams with straight A’s because of your dads genes”

UGH.

I’m not saying it’s all stemmed from that obviously but, you cannot deny the coincidences.

Women’s success majority of the time has been diluted and tried to doubt us, still praising men as though we cannot accomplish anything alone.

Well, let’s be honest - imposter syndrome is just a fucking pick me that hasn’t moved on.

You, my queen are not incapable.

This just feels new.

It feels unfamiliar, so of course you’re going to have some doubts and fear.

Does that mean you don’t deserve to be right where you are? Does it fuck.

For decades, women have been taught to stay small, humble, agreeable and to avoid “taking up too much space”.

So, naturally - when we begin to grow outside and even beyond these expectations, it can feel “wrong”.

But hun, the only thing that is wrong is imposter syndrome and you, have never felt so right, have you?

Doubt exists.

Fear exists.

But does that mean you should go back to where you “belong”.

Does that mean you don’t deserve what you have and where you are?

Absolutely fucking not.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:

Growth happens not when there is no fear or doubt, but when there is - and you go for it anyway.

The truth is, your self-doubt is not evidence that you’re incapable. It’s evidence that you’re stepping outside of your comfort zone.

So the next time imposter syndrome tells you that you’re not qualified enough, experienced enough, talented enough, or ready enough, tell yourself this:

I don’t need permission to take up space. I deserve to.

I don’t need validation to pursue my dreams. I just will and deserve to.

I don’t need to earn the right to become the woman I’m meant to be. I already fucking am.

All in favour, say hi!

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Being wanted. Chosen. Complimented. Texted back. Obsessed over.

I thought that was what made me feel good about myself.

But lately?

Nothing turns me on more than myself.

And no, not in some arrogant, narcissistic way.

I mean genuinely falling in love with the woman I am becoming.

The way my brain works.
The way I express myself.
The way I write.
The way I keep rebuilding myself every single time life tries to humble me.

That feeling after writing something so honest it almost scares me to publish it?

That adrenalin is fucking unmatched.

Knowing these words came from me and people read it, enjoy it and even comment on it.

Knowing that I’ve now written and made sales from two books? Ugh.

My mind. My experiences. My emotions. My talent. My writing.

Hot.

Watching myself become disciplined, creative, emotionally aware, independent and successful?

Also hot.

Because there is something unbelievably attractive about witnessing your own growth in real time.

There is something so incredibly magical feeling yourself expand with zero fucks, when you’ve been told to shrink nearly all of your life.

And I think more women need to talk about this.

We spend so much of our lives being taught to seek pleasure through other people.

We have wasted so much time trying to change ourselves to be liked and desired by anyone but ourselves.

To wait for people to choose us. Want us. Validate us. Approve of us.

As though our confidence should arrive through someone else’s attention.

But the older I get, the more I realise:

There is nothing sexier than a woman who deeply loves herself.

Not performatively.

Not in a “look at me pretending to be confident online” kind of way.

I mean truly enjoying her own company.

Trusting herself.

Admiring herself.

Being turned on by her own mind, ambition, creativity and energy.

Because once you reach that point, everything changes.

You stop begging for crumbs.

You stop confusing attention for connection.

You stop needing constant reassurance because you already know who the fuck you are.

And honestly?

That energy is addictive.

There is something so powerful about sitting alone after creating something beautiful and thinking:

“God, I fucking love who I am becoming.”

Not because you think you’re better than anyone else.

But because you finally stopped abandoning yourself.

For me, writing became part of that.

Every post I publish feels like another layer of me returning to myself.

Every vulnerable sentence.

Every messy thought.

Every opinion I used to water down to make other people comfortable.

It all feels liberating now.

And weirdly enough, the more I became obsessed with my own growth, the less desperate I became for external validation.

Because how can someone’s half-hearted attention compete with the feeling of genuinely respecting yourself?

How can temporary validation compete with building a life that excites you?

How can someone else’s desire compare to waking up and genuinely liking the person you see in the mirror?

It can’t.

And I think that scares people sometimes.

A woman who no longer needs saving, choosing, validating or completing is incredibly hard to control.

Because when a woman starts generating her own fulfilment, her own confidence, her own excitement for life… she becomes magnetic.

Not because she’s trying to be.

But because self-possession radiates out of people.

You can feel it.

You can feel when someone genuinely likes themselves.

And maybe that’s the real goal.

Not chasing love to fill the void.

Not chasing success just to prove something.

But building a relationship with yourself so strong that your own happiness becomes the standard.

Your own ambition turns you on.

Your own intelligence excites you.

Your own growth makes you emotional.

Your own life becomes something you’re genuinely proud of.

Because the truth is, we do not always need someone else to make us feel good.

Let’s not get it twisted - being desired by someone else is fucking incedible.

But it is even better when you feel that desire for yourself first.

Sometimes the deepest confidence comes from realising:

“I actually fucking love being me.”

And once you feel that?

Everything else becomes a bonus, not a necessity.

All in favour, say hi.

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It can feel like you’re not working ‘hard enough’.

There always seems to be an email to answer, another task to complete, another idea to execute. Self care becomes some sort of gift that we are not allowed to open until we have earned it.

It becomes secondary. It becomes a promise to ourselves that we end up always breaking. It starts to become almost forgotten, to the point we end up being forced to stop when we feel it in our bodies.

It shouldn’t and doesn’t need to get to that point, huns.

I get it though, trust me - I’ve been there many times. I’ve not just bought the t shirt, I bought the whole fucking shop but then had to return it all - eventually.

For women especially running their own businesses, burnout doesn't just happen from lack of motivation. It comes from passion without boundaries.

It probably comes from added pressure too that we are placing on ourselves.

Because for so long women have been disregarded as businesswomen and we’ve been fed the narrative that we always have to work harder. That’s exactly it though.. we have only been told to work, work, work to prove yourself. We haven’t been told how to deal with the guilt we feel when we stop or we find ourselves on the verge of tears from tiredness.

It is okay to stop.

It does not mean you are failing, at all.

The hustling culture teaches us that slowing downs means falling behind, and as a woman? We will not fall behind anymore. We will succeed no matter what it takes.

Right?

Wrong.

No matter what you’ve been told. Here’s the real truth:

Success shouldn’t need to be earned through exhaustion.

Burnout is not a badge of honour.

Exhaustion is not proof of commitment.

So the question is, why does rest feel so hard?

Especially when your business is personal, productivity becomes a part of your identity. Switching off can feel like letting yourself down. Many women, myself included feel pressure to be constantly available and inspiring.

Guilt appears when your boundaries need strengthening, not that you are doing something wrong.

Self care is so fucking important, but we forget this.

We see it as nuisance, when in fact it’s one of your best assets. Self care needs to be part of your business plans. It won’t ruin your goals, to will make them sustainable and healthy to maintain.

Look, I’m not going to lie to you and tell you to go book a spa every weekend because that’s just not realistic for us hustling Queens.

BUT, self care can literally look like any of this:

• Taking real breaks instead of working through them (set alarms if need be)

• Setting working hours and protecting them (get a calendar so you can’t ‘forget’)

• Saying no to work that drains your energy (Trust your gut, here)

• Allowing yourself days that are not “productive” (Ironically, this is actually so productive)

• Resting before you reach burnout, not after (This one is a biggie. Don’t let it get to the burnout stage my darlings)

These choices need to be set to protect your creativity, focus, and wellbeing.

I know we’re half way through the post but you might be questioning:

What actually are the signs of burnout?

I used to think burnout was really dramatic so without realising I would be working through it, keep going as much as I could until it would hit me.

Sometimes it sneaks in.. Quietly:

• You feel disconnected from work you once loved

• You are tired even after resting

• You feel anxious when you try to switch off

• You resent your business instead of enjoying it

• Nothing feels like enough

Repeat after me:

These signs are not failures. They are messages, and I will learn to listen.

Now, the last thing I want is for you to feel like Self Care is just another thing to add on your To Do List. Start small.

Try scheduling rest like it’s a meeting you can’t miss.

Start with setting one boundary to protect each week.

Affirming what you are doing out loud when you feel guilty such as - replacing “I should be working” with “Rest is productive and it’s something I need to refuel”

I promise you, you will be able to make better decisions when you are rested. You will be able to enjoy the process more. Your work will improve when your mind is clear.

The thing about success is that it’s not just about the end goal or the finances. It’s not about being productive 24/7.

It’s about being able to build a life and actually be able to enjoy the process.

Treat yourself how you wish to be treated.

Treat yourself as a staff member that you may actually have in the future.

Would you allow them a break?

Would you be hard on them for no reason?

Would you make them work when they are poorly?

You are allowed to protect your energy and still dream big, my Queen.

Never stop dreaming big and working hard, but self care needs to be a part of that dream or it might not ever feel worth it.

Self care without guilt is not about doing less. It is about doing what lasts.

All in favour, say hi.

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Be strong or be soft.

Be confident or be cautious.

Be fearless or be afraid.

It’s yet another load of bullshit expectations forced onto us, as though we can only ever be one thing or the other.

But the truth is, we have never been just one thing.

We are walking contradictions in the most powerful, human way.

We can be terrified and still take the leap.

We can doubt ourselves and still show up like we belong in every room we enter.

We can be soft, nurturing, emotional and still be fiercely independent, driven, and unshakeable.

Two truths can exist at once. And they often do.

Somewhere along the way, “being a strong woman” became another box. Another expectation. Another pressure we quietly carry.

As if strength means never wavering, never questioning, never needing support, never doubting, never being scared.

As if strength looks like having it all together all the time.

But honestly, who actually has it all together?

No one. Because that would be impossible.

Strength isn’t the absence of vulnerability. It’s the willingness to exist alongside it.

It’s showing up even when your voice shakes.

It’s admitting you’re overwhelmed but still choosing to keep going.

It’s tears, frustration, honesty and not apologising for any of it.

And yet, so many of us have been conditioned to hide those parts of ourselves. To tuck away anything that could be perceived as “weak.” Because historically, vulnerability has been used against women. It’s been judged, criticised and weaponised.

For years, we were labelled:

The passive sex. The weaker sex.

And even now, when we show vulnerability while also trying to embody strength, that old fear creeps back in. The fear of being dismissed, reduced and underestimated.

So we armour up.

We convince ourselves that emotion equals weakness.

That needing help means failure.

That being overwhelmed somehow makes us less capable.

It’s exhausting, isn’t it?

We genuinely cannot fucking win.

The pressure to choose between being strong or emotional, as though we can’t possibly be both, keeps so many women trapped in a cycle of self-monitoring.

We tell ourselves to just hold it together.

Be the calm one. The capable one. The one who can handle everything. Prove them wrong.

And without even realising it, we create a version of strength that leaves no room for us to be human.

But having emotions does not make you weak.

No matter what gender you are.

Somehow we pile pressure onto ourselves to be everything all at once, and then criticise ourselves when we inevitably fall short of perfection.

But what if the real power is in the duality?

What if being a “strong woman” isn’t about having it all together, but about allowing yourself to fall apart sometimes and trusting that you’ll rebuild?

What if strength also looks like softness, honesty, rest, and asking for help?

What if confidence and doubt aren’t opposites, but companions?

Because the truth is, you don’t lose your strength when you admit you’re struggling. You deepen it.

You don’t become less powerful when you feel uncertain. You become more real.

And maybe that’s the shift we need.

To stop striving to be one fixed version of ourselves.

To stop performing strength in ways that disconnect us from who we actually are.

To stop believing vulnerability is something shameful.

FUCK what society says, since when are they ever fully right anyway?

You are allowed to be both.

Strong and sensitive.

Confident and questioning.

Fearless and afraid.

For far too long, women have been shoved into boxes we never even agreed to.

People acted shocked when a beautiful woman was funny.

Surprised when a blonde woman was intelligent.

Confused when a woman with larger breasts was conservative.

Thrown off when a strong woman was also shy.

Fucking madness.

We’ve always been expected to fit neatly into categories that were never designed with our full humanity in mind. Because we didn’t matter.

We have been stereotyped, poked, prodded, shifted, forced, labelled into so many different boxes, thrown onto a shelf and expected to not say anything or do anything that is outside of the impossible shaped box.

Told who we should be before we even got the chance to figure it out ourselves.

But we are done shrinking ourselves to fit inside boxes that never belonged to us in the first place.

We are done playing the game of “this or that.”

We are done feeding narratives that make absolutely no sense.

So listen to me, hun:

You are allowed to hold multiple truths within yourself without explaining them, justifying them, or shrinking them to make other people comfortable.

You do not need to prove yourself to anyone.

You do not have to earn your strength by suffering in silence.

You do not have to pretend you’ve got everything figured out.

And you absolutely do not have to choose just one version of yourself to be worthy of acceptance.

Because we are all fucking incredible women and we were never ever meant to be just one thing.

We are layered.

Contradictory. Emotional. Powerful. Soft. Fierce. Tender. Feminine. Masculine. Feisty. Sassy. Quiet. Confident. Bold. Resilient.

All at once.

So throw away the rule book.

Clear out the boxes.

Because my Queen…

We were meant to be all of it, and so much more.

All in favour, say hi.

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A “normal” one.

I’ve been there nearly a month now, and it’s been such a positive experience.

Every day feels like a new learning curve in the best way. But more than that, it’s made me reflect and I mean really reflect - on my previous roles and work environments.

And I just thought… this is going to make a fucking perfect substack post.

Because let me start by saying this huns:

Starting a new job and unlearning the toxicity of previous roles is… fucking weird.

It catches you off guard.

You walk in expecting the usual:

Guarded conversations, subtle competition, bitchy undertones, a cold atmosphere, that constant tension where you’re never quite sure where you stand.

Ugh.

And even after all the self work I’ve done, after building confidence and learning to be unapologetically myself, I still felt it.

That instinct to shrink a little.

To edit myself.

To play the game.

I remember mentally preparing to defend myself.

Getting ready to speak up when (not if) someone tried to make me feel small.

And then… nothing.

None of it happened.

“Maybe it’s just the first day,” I thought.

But it wasn’t.

It’s been nearly a month now.

I’ve been fully myself.

I’ve spoken up and actually been heard.

I’ve worn red and pink, and people have complimented me instead of side-eyeing it.

People are kind.

They listen.

They support, without agenda.

You’re not punished for taking up space.

And instead of instantly relaxing into that, your nervous system almost… glitches.

Because it doesn’t recognise it.

Which is fucking wild.

Because it shouldn’t feel shocking to be accepted as you are in a workplace.

It shouldn’t feel unusual to be surrounded by people who want you to do well.

It definitely shouldn’t feel strange to experience support in a job that isn’t even rooted in creativity or self expression.

And yet… here we are.

It’s strange.

But more than that, it’s sad.

Sad how quickly we adapt to environments that ask us to accept less than we deserve.

Sad how normal it becomes to tolerate being undervalued, overlooked, or quietly undermined: all in exchange for a paycheck that we need.

But the thing is, it doesn’t just stay at work, does it?

That quiet habit of “settling for crumbs” seeps into everything.

Into relationships where we accept less than we deserve.

Into friendships where we excuse behaviour that doesn’t sit right.

Into the way we speak to ourselves.

Lowering expectations, softening needs, convincing ourselves that crumbs are enough.

A job is never just a job.

It shapes how you see yourself.

What you believe you’re worth.

What you think you should tolerate.

So when you land somewhere that challenges that narrative, somewhere healthy, somewhere real.

It doesn’t just feel good.

It feels disorienting.

Like you’ve been speaking one language your whole life, and suddenly everyone around you is fluent in something softer, kinder, more honest.

And you realise how much you’ve become used to the wrong thing.

Because so many workplaces have conditioned us to believe that crumbs are normal to accept as “enough”.

But none of us deserve just crumbs.

But unlearning that? It’s not instant.

It’s messy.

It takes time to trust that the ground beneath you isn’t going to crumble.

To believe that kindness isn’t a trick.

To understand that you don’t have to earn your place by shrinking.

But maybe that discomfort is telling you something important.

Not that this new environment is strange but that what you were taught to accept before it was.

And here’s the thing.

This might sound like a post about work.

About a new job. About bad bosses and better environments.

But you and I both know it’s bigger than that.

This is about what we’ve been taught to tolerate, everywhere.

Because women especially, are conditioned to accept crumbs in almost every area of life.

To second guess themselves.

To downplay discomfort.

To question their own reactions.

“Maybe it was just a joke.”

“Maybe I’m overreacting.”

“Maybe it’s not that bad.”

No.

We need to stop dressing up disrespect as normal.

We need to stop calling settling “just the way it is.”

We need to start questioning environments, all environments - instead of immediately questioning ourselves.

Because when you finally experience something healthy, something respectful, something genuinely supportive.

You realise the problem was never that you were “too much.”

It’s that you were surrounded by places that only knew how to offer less.

And once you see that and I mean really see it.

You just can’t unsee it.

So maybe the real work isn’t just finding better environments.

Maybe it’s raising the standard so fucking high within ourselves that anything less than respect, support, and honesty simply no longer feels like an option.

Not at work.

Not in relationships.

Not anywhere.

Because crumbs were never the norm.

We were just taught they were.

So maybe it’s time we stop bending ourselves into smaller, quieter, more “acceptable” versions just to fit broken environments.

Maybe it’s time those environments take the fucking blame.

Fix your culture. Fix your standards. Fix the way you treat people.

There’s actually zero excuse for it, because I am now witnessing a work environment that looks after their staff.

That listens.

That is versatile.

That is open.

That is diverse.

So, really… No, no seriously… What actually is your fucking excuse?

Aw. Is it your poor ego?

Grow up.

If your workplace can’t handle honesty, confidence or individuality that’s not a people problem.

That’s a you problem.

Do better.

Be better.

Because people aren’t asking for too much, you’ve just been getting away with giving too little for faaaaar too long.

All in favour, say hi!

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I wrote this days in advance and was ready to publish it yesterday, but then I stopped myself because I thought:

Hang on a minute. It should be International Women’s Day all 365 days, not just one. Because for us, it’s not just one day out of 365 where shit happens to us.

Because we never have a chance for a day off from all the adversity we are faced with.

It’s not just one day out of 365 where we have to fight for equality, still.

It’s not just one day where we have to put up with sexism and abuse.

It’s every single day of our lives.

Honestly? This is why we deserve to celebrate ourselves every day.

Celebrate our strength.

But also our gentleness.

Our inability to give up.

Our passions.

Our fight.

Our resilience.

I spent so much time thinking about what it really means to be a woman. Not the polished Instagram version, not the perfectly put together one. The real one.

And the truth is: there is not just one version of us anywhere. We are so diverse, beautiful, courageous, and strong and that is something we all share.

We all show our strength in various ways.

We all spread our joy through different outlets.

We all hold and share our passions differently.

We all feel scared in our own way too, unfortunately.

So something else we need to continue to do? Stand together, not apart.

If you see another woman with a different skin colour, hairstyle, language, style, passion, sex life, or career: don’t judge it. Because we are all doing things our own way, but we need to stand as each other’s allies.

Unfortunately, we do still have women that judge, look down on, and disregard other women who have differences to themselves.

It’s not ideal, but it’s also inevitable due to how much internal misogyny plays a role. But they will get there, maybe naive, but I do believe that these women will come to their senses one day.

In the meantime, the rest of us will have to carry that weight instead of staying quiet. Now, more than ever, we need to stand as one. As sisters.

None of us are perfect. We are all still trying to figure out life as we go, through a world that has for so long disregarded us and expected us to stay quiet and not stand tall.

We are still carving our paths in a world that only ever considered us weak, passive, and “just” a woman.

So, let me tell you a not so secret secret:

If you didn’t already know, I chose the name “I’m Just A Woman” purposefully, with pinks and reds, to take back the power.

I believe so many of us once loved these colours in our lives but then lost them due to what they came to mean from a sexism perspective.

I’m here to rewrite the narrative of what it means to be “just” a woman with girly pinks and sexy reds.

I’m here to rewrite it in our way, so when anyone says we are “just” a woman - we all collectively know what it really means.

Because let’s be honest, not many men are going to read this and fully understand what it actually means to be a woman in this world. So I’m choosing today to make a pact with you all:

Whenever anyone says to you that you are “just” anything, know it’s them actually saying they are fearful of our fucking power.

Because being “just” a woman has never meant being small.

It means strength people don’t always see.

It means growth, resilience, and becoming a woman you’re proud of and fucking LOVE.

So no, we’re not “just” anything.

Far from it.

Being a woman is power.

Being a woman is messy.

Being a woman is fucking magical.

We are godly creatures without whom the world simply wouldn’t exist. Period.

Being a woman is so fascinating amongst all our complexities.

One minute we are strong, the next we can be completely overwhelmed.

We can hold everything together for everyone, but we’re choosing not to anymore.

We loudly chase our dreams after years of being ashamed for aiming higher than the stars.

We face more doubt than men.

We face more adversity than men.

We face sexism almost every day.

Yet we still keep going.

We do all of this every month whilst dealing with hormone changes, heavy bleeding, and pain.

Do we complain? Rarely.

Do we have a right to? Also-fucking-lutely.

We are so strong, it’s insane. Yet we are still seen as “weak”.

HA!

Let them think that. Because deep down, they are fearful of just how much power we hold. We are the modern day superhero, but we are portrayed as villainous when we speak up and fight back.

We are in a constant competition for basic human rights and decency. But here’s the thing: we are clearly seen as strong competition.

Think about it.

You wouldn’t want to take out the weak competition now, would you?

Exactly.

So here is me saying that International Women’s Day isn’t just about celebrating the women who have everything figured out.

It’s about celebrating all of us.

The women building something from nothing.

The women starting again.

The women healing.

The women surviving.

The women dreaming quietly.

And the women daring to take up space.

Take this reminder with you and share it with anyone and everyone: women are powerful in ways the world doesn’t talk about enough.

Not just in big moments.

But in the everyday ones.

So today, and every fucking day: here’s to women everywhere in the world.

This is a sisterhood for all of us.

This is a nod and a wink to all of you.

Though many of us will never meet, just know I’m here, cheering you on and fighting for you.

I’m Just A Woman.

And that?

Is way more than enough.

Happy International Women’s Day.

All in favour, say hi.

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This is a bit of a different post today.

A personal message from me to you.

I’m sure you will have already seen in my notes that I have recently updated the price of one of my products.

No it’s not too good to be true: My 24 Printable Affirmations are now available for just 99p.

And these aren’t just any affirmations.

I’ve had a lot of you asking me how I’m so confident and how do I have so much self belief, well here it is.

These affirmations are the exact words I use every single day to boost my confidence, love myself harder, and walk through life feeling fucking unstoppable. These are the reminders I come back to when I need to ground myself or remember who the fuck I am on those harder days.

And now, you can too

As you should.

As all women should.

I wanted to create a post to delve deeper into why affirmations are such a good, low cost investment into becoming the woman you’ve always envisioned.

So, Why Affirmations?

Because the way you speak to yourself matters.

Because your inner voice shapes your confidence.

Because self love isn’t cringe: it’s power.

These affirmations are designed to help you:

• Build confidence

• Strengthen self worth

• Shift your mindset

• Step into your main character energy

• Remember that you are and always have been more than enough

And the best part?

They’re printable.

Stick them on your mirror.

Your desk.

Inside your journal.

On your laptop.

On your phone.

Carry them with you in your pockets.

Do whatever the fuck you want with them, Hun.

Let them catch your eye on the hard days.

Let them remind you of who you are becoming.

Let them simply and quietly rewire the way you see yourself.

For Less Than an Espresso

I know I said that them being printable was the best bit but THIS definitely is. For less than an espresso shot from your favourite coffee shop, you can invest in yourself and your mindset today.

99p.

That’s literally it.

No tricks.

No hidden costs.

Literally just 99p.

I originally had them at £2.50 but I was thinking to myself - no, Jodie, make them fucking 99p because that is the price everyone can definitely afford and everyone deserves to feel confident every fucking day. (But your girl does need to support herself somehow hehe)

And I’m not gate keeping my secrets from you gorgeous lot for a couple of extra quid.

Because here’s the truth:

Self love shouldn’t be a luxury.

It shouldn’t be something you “get around to.”

It shouldn’t have to wait until you feel more worthy.

You fucking deserve to feel powerful now, my Queen.

Start Loving the Shit Out of Yourself

This is your sign to invest in yourself.

This is your sign to start loving yourself, every day.

This is your sign to feel unstoppable, every day.

Print them.

Read them daily.

Say them out loud.

Feel them.

Let your Mindset Glow Up.

If you’ve been waiting for permission to prioritise yourself: this is it, Hun.

Grab your affirmations for 99p and start loving the absolute shit out of yourself, today.

With love and power,

Jodie

I’m Just A Woman

xoxo

All in favour, say hi!

(No, seriously say hi and message me what you are going to do with your affirmations)

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I’m sat on my bed, freshly showered, fresh pyjamas on, a neat rum by my side, writing on the eve of my 30th birthday.

Instead of shitting myself, I feel reflective.

Emotional. Unexpectedly content. Full of gratitude.

Gratitude for the woman I have become over the last decade.

I keep thinking about who I was ten years ago, and how every single year since has been a stepping stone toward the woman I am now.

And strangely, very fucking strangely - I am thankful for it all.

Thank you for the pain.

Thank you for the struggles.

Thank you for the nights I thought I had lost all hope.

Thank you for the quiet depression no one saw.

Thank you for the anxiety I learned to breathe through.

Thank you for the moments of light at the end of dark tunnels.

There were years when everything felt so heavy.

Years when I didn’t recognise myself.

Years when I felt like a failure.

Years when my confidence was so low that self love felt like a foreign concept.

There were years when I lost more than hope, I lost people.

I lost friendships. I lost my best friend of fifteen years: my darling Yorkshire Terrier, who I wish more than anything could be here with me now, celebrating in physical form this special milestone.

I get a lump in my throat when I think about everything that’s happened. The good, the bad, the evil, the breathtaking highs and the woeful lows.

But through it all, I always found light.

To anyone reading this: I promise you, there is always light to be found, even in the darkest places.

For a long time, I didn’t understand what strength really looked like. I thought it meant pushing through silently. Smiling when things hurt. Pretending I was fine.

But strength isn’t faking a smile on hard days.

And it isn’t avoiding them either.

Strength is talking about it. Facing it. Sitting in it. Moving through it. And eventually, fucking conquering it.

When I look at my 20 year old self now, my chest tightens with love for her.

She didn’t know what was coming.

She didn’t know how much she would lose.

She didn’t know how much she would grow.

She was trying so hard to be “normal”. To be “enough”.

What does that even mean?

I’ve never been “normal” and I’m so fucking glad.

I have always been more than enough, she just didn’t realise it until later.

She believed confidence would arrive one day like a special gift wrapped in a bow, not realising it would be built slowly, painfully and through lived experience.

If I could sit beside her now, I wouldn’t warn her about what’s going to hurt. I wouldn’t try to protect her from it. I would simply tell her this:

You are going to be so fucking proud of yourself.

You are going to survive things you think will break you.

You are going to learn how to sit with discomfort instead of running from it.

You are going to love yourself in ways you never imagined possible.

You are going to stop shrinking and start shining, exactly as you always should have.

Fuck.

My eyes fill up, not with sadness, but with pride.

I used to be terrified of turning 30. Terrified of getting “old”. Of my body clock running out. Of not being where I thought I should be.

But now I know this: I am exactly where I’m meant to be.

“Should’s” are not entering my 30’s era.

I make the rules. Fuck what society thinks.

Getting older is a privilege and I know that because I know people who never got the chance.

And here’s something personal: I nearly didn’t either.

When I was three years old. I was in a car accident. I was on life support. Doctors told my family I had less than a five percent chance of survival and that if I did survive, I would likely suffer brain damage.

I survived. With none.

Crazy fucking stuff, right?

I nearly wasn’t here.

But I am.

And tomorrow, I turn thirty.

I have survived the craziest shit in these thirty years.

I have carried things I never thought I’d be strong enough to carry.

And I am finally able to say this - honestly, fully, without minimising it:

I am so proud of myself.

How far I have come:

A shy girl.

A rebellious teenager.

An insecure young adult.

A people pleasing adult.

A fearful adult.

An angry early twenties woman.

A cunty late twenties woman.

And now? A fucking queen at thirty.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped being angry that others seemed to “have it all figured out”.

I stopped comparing.

I stopped being jealous.

I stopped looking outward and started looking inward.

I realised that only I could make the choices that would shape the woman I wanted to become.

And then I realised something even bigger:

I had always been her.

The woman I envisioned was never missing. She was inside me the whole time, just trying to be understood.

My passion used to come out as anger.

My confidence used to come out as comparison.

Now I know who I am.

Not perfect, but like art itself: Messy. Expressive. Disliked by some. Loved deeply by others.

The last ten years shaped me through lessons I never asked for: grief, resilience, loneliness, courage.

I used to think “becoming” meant fixing myself.

Now I know it meant understanding myself.

Forgiving myself.

Loving myself, unconditionally.

I thank the version of me who stayed when it would have been easier to disappear.

I thank the version of me who kept believing there was more.

I thank the woman I have grown to fucking love and adore.

Thirty doesn’t feel like an ending.

It feels like a beginning.

Grounded, unapologetic, and finally at peace with who I am.

I am softer.

I am braver.

I am less afraid of my own voice.

So here’s to the girl I was.

Here’s to the woman I am.

And here’s to the woman I’m still becoming.

There is nothing “just” about me.

There never was.

Signing off from my 20’s xo

Onto the next chapter… Let’s turn that page with gratitude, growth and grace.

Happy 30th Birthday to Me

Thirty, Flirty and Still Fucking Thriving.

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Somewhere along the way, we were taught not to be too much of anything.

It was repeated and drilled into our brains that we shouldn’t ever try to be the main character.

Our roles were supposed to be:

The sidekick

The girl next door

The “other” woman

The love interest

The mother

The wife

The daughter

The one who supports the story, never the one who leads it.

Be agreeable. Be supportive. Be understanding.

Just say yes.

Play along.

Read your lines.

Look pretty.

Don’t ask questions.

Just do as you’re told.

FUCKKKK OFFFFF.

Women are incredible, everyone knows it. That’s why, for so long, they tried to shrink us. Keep us small. Keep us in the background. Because deep down, they know how powerful we are.

We literally bring life into the fucking world.

We turn heads when we walk into rooms without even trying.

They’re intimidated by our power, so they keep us in a box where they can keep an eye on us. They lead. We follow.

HA.

Do not make me spit out my iced latte.

Because here’s the real tea: you do not belong in the background.

You have every right to ask questions.

This is your fucking movie and you, my darling, are the director.

Your life is the director’s cut.

It’s the version where nothing and no one stays just because it’s familiar or comfortable.

Every scene matters.

Every character is chosen by you.

You are the main character - no one else gets that role.

The characters you choose should know where they stand.

The people you keep in your life should serve a purpose.

If they create a negative purpose in your life? Hasta la vista, baby.

You are writing the script.

You decide who belongs in the intimate scenes.

You decide who laughs with you in the funny ones.

You decide who’s there when the drama hits and emotions are high.

Who fully supports you and who’s just there for a paycheck?

Who’s hanging around like a producer, quietly sabotaging and praying for your downfall?

You decide everything.

You are the director, the producer, the writer, and the fucking main character.

You always have been.

But have you actually been acting like it?

Whether you realize it or not, you’re casting people every single day.

Sidekicks.

Co-stars.

Background artists.

Producers.

And yes, people who take up space without adding anything to the story.

Your energy, time, and love are sacred. Who you give access to sets the tone of your story.

So be brutally honest with yourself:

Do you really want someone who makes you feel small, insecure, or unseen to have a role in your movie?

If not, why are they still in the script?

Not everyone deserves front-row access to your heart, body, mind, and dreams.

VIP access is limited. It is not handed out for free.

Some people aren’t meant to be supporting characters.

Some don’t even belong in the background.

It doesn’t matter how many sequels there have been, some people simply don’t make the Final Cut.

Not because they’re bad, but because they no longer align with your story.

So when you find yourself over explaining or justifying your boundaries - CUT.

Stop carrying people who refuse to learn their lines or listen for cues.

We are done dimming ourselves to make others comfortable.

We are done auditioning for roles that were never meant for us.

Oh… I almost forgot.

The co-writer.

Be kinder to her.

Yes, I’m talking about the voice in your head.

Watch how you speak to yourself.

Show her more love.

Your co-writer might be the most important role of all.

Allow rewrites when something no longer aligns.

Allow the vision to change, it will only grow your confidence.

You don’t need anyone else to understand your movie.

Be empowered in knowing you’re allowed to change the storyline at any point.

You can cut the budget, cast members, and characters whenever the fuck you want.

When you start seeing life through the eyes of the director, it becomes more beautiful and more poetic. You realise how much control you actually have.

So take another look at your cast list and ask yourself:

Who deserves more screen time?

Who’s draining the budget?

Who needs to be released?

Guilt-free.

This is your life.

Your film.

Your director’s cut.

Lights. Camera. Action.

Now go make it fucking award winning.

All in favour, say hi!

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We all have them. Let’s start right there.

I don’t care what anyone says, every single person on this planet has insecurities. And if they say they don’t, they’re either lying, in denial, or both.

It is normal.

And it is okay.

But insecurities are not facts.

Most of what you call an insecurity didn’t start with you.

They usually start with something someone said, or didn’t say.

A look.

A comparison.

A moment where you quietly learned what you were supposed to be.

And over time, that message hardened.

It stopped feeling like an opinion and started feeling like truth.

But insecurities are not facts.

They are beliefs you were taught.

They are opinions that hurt.

They are expectations you were never meant to meet.

They show up as the conclusion that you must be the problem.

They appear in vulnerable moments when you want to belong or to be loved.

They turn into messy mental mathematics where there is no real answer, so you invent one:

“Everyone leaves, therefore I must be the problem.”

“Maybe I laughed too much, plus I have bright coloured hair, which obviously equals I need to change - but if I change, I subtract my self confidence, because I won’t be living authentically, which adds more pressure to keep up appearances I never needed in the first place.”

It’s a lot, right?

And yet you carry it.

Every day.

Even when it’s fucking heavy.

Even when it hurts.

There is so much weight in dragging around things you’ve been made to believe are true for far too long.

“I’m not enough.”

“I’m too much.”

“I don’t belong.”

None of these are objective statements.

They’re stories, repeated so often they started to sound like evidence.

And here’s the part people forget:

This does not have to be your reality.

If something was learned, it can be unlearned.

Does that mean the voices disappear overnight? No, hun.

But it does mean you stop treating them like reliable narrators.

And that? That’s powerful as fuck.

So try this:

The next time an insecurity shows up, ask yourself:

Who taught me this?

Who benefited from me believing it?

What would change if I stopped calling it a fact?

Do I actually believe this, honestly?

You are not the problem.

Your insecurities exist, but they are not solid facts you must always believe and never question.

You are not broken. You were misinformed.

And the most important part?

You’re in the driver’s seat now.

You get to decide what you keep, what you question and what you let go.

Insecurities exist and they always will.

But they don’t get to run the show.

They don’t get to sit in the director’s chair.

They don’t get to decide how small you make yourself to keep others comfortable.

You are not here to be agreeable.

You are not here to be quieter or softer.

You are not here to live according to rules written by people who benefited from your self doubt.

You are powerful.

You are resilient as fuck.

And you don’t owe your energy to voices that tried to shrink you.

Take your power back.

Take up space.

Be loud. Be real. Be unapologetic.

This is your life and you decide who and what gets access to it.

All in favour, say hi!

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Which means this year I turn 30. To be precise, I turn 30 in less than 20 days.

SHIT.

Why is it so scary turning thirty?

Oh, I know - because apparently according to the internet, society, distant relatives, and people I don’t even like who peaked at 22, this is meant to be some kind of dramatic deadline.

It’s a panic point.

A “better get your life together now” moment.

So, I know I’m not alone with this strange feeling of fear and excitement about becoming a thirty year old. This is why I’m writing this post, for all my 1996 babies on things we are not doing.

We are NOT giving in to the peer pressure surrounding us.

We are NOT treating 30 like an expiry date

We grow up seeing 30 as this dooming age, like it’s the end of growth, success, fun and goals.

Although I have believed this, writing it now? What a load of fucking shit.

Seriously?

It’s thirty.

It’s not the end.

It’s not a closing door.

It’s not “too late.”

It’s never too late, even if you’re 80!

It’s never too late to change paths.

It’s never too late to fall in love.

It’s never too late to start again.

It’s never too late to still not know.

Something I have noticed, the older I’ve got I’ve seemed to cherish quality over quantity. Actually, becoming thirty feels like the fog is starting to disappear.

These past few years, I have stopped living for approval and started living for alignment and maybe it is true after all, with age - does come wisdom.

I do have excitement about my thirties, which I never thought I would. I have heard so many great things from some fucking great women and it’s a breath of fresh air.

Women especially have this timeline surrounding them constantly. A man aging is sexy, it’s mature.

A woman aging is:

“Ooh, she’s lost her looks hasn’t she”

“Her body’s gone down hill hasn’t it”

“She can’t be dressing like that at her age”

“She’ll get put on the shelf now, it’s too late for her”

OH BORE OFF YOU STUPID PRICKS

This is why I am so happy to see so many women saying ‘fuck you’ to the stigma surrounding aging and it all seems to start at thirty.

So, something else we’re not doing?

We are NOT forcing timelines that don’t belong to us

We are not panicking because:

• Someone else is married

• Someone else bought a bigger house

• Someone else has kids at the ‘correct’ age

• Someone else is in the job they always wanted

• Someone else is earning way more money than you

Good for them. No seriously, good for them.

But their lane is not your lane.

You have your own lane, hun - and it’s fucking beautiful and it’s all yours, we’re going to stop trying to share a lane or try to plonk ourselves in other peoples lanes where all we’re going to feel is pressured and we don’t fit.

We’re just simply not doing it, okay?

We’re not squeezing ourselves into lives that look good on paper but feel wrong in our bodies. We owe ourselves more than that, and we are definitely worth way more than that.

We’re NOT doing things “just to keep up” either

No more:

• Staying in relationships because “it’s been too long”

• Staying in a career that drains us because it sounds impressive

• Living for external validation

• Explaining ourselves to people who simply don’t get us

We’re NOT shaming ourselves for evolving, either.

You might look at other people and think:

“I still don’t know what I want, but they have it all figured out. How embarrassing”

No it’s not, hun - at all!

Also, they probably don’t have it ‘figured out’ either, does anyone? We’re all doing life for the first time, please remember that.

Who you were at 20 doesn’t get to decide who you are at 30.

You’re allowed to:

Want different things

Outgrow people

Change your mind

Start over

That’s not failure.

That’s growth.

So, we are staying in our own lane

Unapologetically.

We’re choosing peace over pressure.

Quality over quantity

Authenticity over aesthetics.

We’re going to start trusting that a life built quietly, honestly and on our own terms will always feel better than one built for applause.

We are also going to stop comparing other people’s birthday celebrations.

We are going to stop panicking about how we are going to celebrate such a huge milestone the ‘right’ way.

The truth is? The only ‘right’ way, is your way.

There is so much pressure placed upon us all from celebrity culture and social media.

You’re probably seeing other people fly across the world to celebrate their 30th

You’re seeing others having huge parties with 100 people

You’re seeing some spending insane amounts of money

All of this, is perfectly okay by the way.

But, some of it will not be real.

We should know this by now, not everything you see on social media is real.

Sure, they might be smiling on the photos but a smile is like make up, it can be easily put on and instantly wiped away, especially when alone.

And even if these things you’re seeing aren’t fake, let them enjoy that.

Seriously, be happy for them - but do not feel like you have to compete with them.

Stop fighting what you truly want.

For so long, I thought I would want this huge party, with everyone I know - not even everyone I love, just literally everyone I knew.

Now? Could not think of anything worse.

I’ve been debating with myself:

“But it’s my 30th, I always wanted a big party.”

Wanted.

I no longer want that and deep down I know this, but why have I been feeling bad about it?

Now, don’t get me wrong - I am wanting all eyes on me, I am the main character and for my 30th, I want all of this and more.

However, I also care so much more about the smaller groups, the simpler things, the beautiful world we live in, the amazing chats I have with my besties.

Reflective.

I owe so fucking much to the person I was aged 20-29 and I want to take the time to truly take a minute to reflect on all of the nostalgia, pain, growth, success and excitement over the last decade.

It makes me feel kind of emotional.

Am I where I always thought I would be at age thirty? Am I bollocks.

I’m not married (yet)

I don’t have any dogs or children (yet)

I’m not in the job role I thought I’d be in (yet)

I’ve not traveled to all the places I thought I would have (yet)

Instead of seeing all the things you haven’t achieved as simply that

“I haven’t done XYZ”

Let’s start adding a YET at the end.

Becoming thirty isn’t the end.

It’s the beginning of something fucking beautiful.

The person I was in my twenties showed up even when she didn’t know how.

She made reckless choices and brave ones.

She stayed too long, left too late, loved too hard, doubted herself constantly and still kept going.

She learned what she would and wouldn’t tolerate.

She learned how to be alone.

She learned that growth isn’t linear and success doesn’t always look impressive from the outside.

So no, thirty isn’t a neat little bow on the life I imagined. It’s not the checklist completed or the movie ending I thought I was racing toward.

It’s sturdier than that.

It’s self trust. It’s perspective.

It’s knowing that I can survive disappointment and still want more. It’s understanding that timelines are literally made up.

I owe everything to my 20s, so here’s to the decade that made me.

And here’s to the one where I finally get to fully enjoy, becoming her.

Fuck yes.

All in favour, say hi!

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January is such a weird time. It’s the month where everyone has this pressure placed on them by others or, mostly, themselves.

The house looks cleaner, but it must be immaculate, otherwise there will be bad luck.

You’re tired from all the Christmas excitement, but you must start the gym. NOW.

You’ve got loads of Christmas snacks still to eat, and rather than enjoying them, all you feel now is guilt.

You even feel a bit sad that Christmas is over, and you know it’s back to “normality,” which makes you feel kinda shitty, but you can’t be sad, it’s the new year! So you just fake-smile through it. Positive vibes only, right?

WRONG.

The pressure we put on ourselves and sometimes unknowingly on others is fucking crazy, and sadly, I feel like this might always be the case.

It’s a beautiful thing, setting goals for the year ahead and feeling excited to start new things. Of course it is. I fucking love doing this. But it always feels like a smack in the face when reality sets in, and although I’m excited about what’s in store for me in this brand new year, I feel a slight sense of anxiety creeping back in.

I set high expectations for myself, and it’s both a blessing and a curse. I am such a passionate person, and I am so excited about so many things, but BOOM: my anxiety, although controlled, is still there.

For so long, I would brush these feelings and thoughts off.

“Nope, it’s the new year. New me isn’t going to be anxious. It’s stupid.”

“It’s a new year. I can’t be negative, otherwise that means my whole year will be negative.”

“No, I must do these things now, otherwise it’s bad luck and nothing is going to work how I want it to.”

Sound familiar?

I know I’m not alone with this, so I’m here to tell you: it is okay to have these thoughts.

For so long, I would try to ignore them or suppress them, but news flash: it doesn’t work, hun.

They won’t disappear. If anything, they’ll just spiral and become bigger than they need to be. So let them in and breathe them out.

So why does the new year still make so many of us panic and pile on the pressure?

Societal expectations.

Social media.

Celebrities.

Superstitions.

There are so many reasons. It’s like you’ve been told from October to December:

“Fuck it, eat what you want. Relax. Look after yourself. Enjoy yourself.”

Then January hits and it’s:

“Come on, you need to lose weight.”

“It’s the new year! If you’re negative, you’re going to have a negative year.”

“You must have a goal for the year… NOW.”

All this does is create confusion and guilt.

You start feeling bad for eating so much over Christmas.

You start to worry about how much money you spent.

You start to worry that you’re not feeling great, which then means you’re not going to have a great year, which then makes you think, “What’s the point?”

Which is such a dangerous spiral to fall into.

We’re not doing it this time, hun.

Because honestly? It’s bullshit.

January isn’t a fresh, blank notebook with crisp white pages. It’s not perfecting yourself (perfect is boring and made up anyway).

January is a continuation.

You didn’t magically reset at midnight on December 31st, like society is trying to make you believe.

You’re still tired. You’re still human. You’re still carrying whatever the fuck last year handed you, good and bad. And it is OKAY.

We treat January like a test. Like if you don’t “do it right,” you’ve somehow failed the entire year before it’s even begun. If you didn’t wake up motivated, glowing, productive, disciplined, and grateful, then you’re already behind.

What a load of bollocks.

The truth is, some Januaries are quiet. Some are heavy. Some are anxious. Some are slow. Some are hopeful and scary at the same time. Two things can exist at once, you can be excited for what’s coming and still feel overwhelmed by it.

The amount of times I’ve had amazing, major life events happen and still felt a form of anxiety and guilt? It’s normal.

Stop putting pressure on yourself. We’re only 13 days in, so stop feeling like it’s the end already.

I think we’d all breathe a little easier if we stopped trying to make January mean so much.

Yes, it’s a brand new month in a brand new year, but that doesn’t mean you have to be. Where’s the fun in not being able to see your growth?

How boring would it be if we all became what we want straight away?

The journey: the difficulties, the stress, the anxiety, the worry, the guilt - all of this is growth without you even realising it, because all of this is going to equal something amazing at some point. It just doesn’t have to be right now.

So stop being so hard on yourself.

You don’t need to have your life mapped out.

You don’t need a five year plan.

You don’t need to “fix” yourself.

You don’t need to punish your body for enjoying food.

You don’t need to be positive all the time.

You don’t need to share the video that tells you you’re going to have a bad year if you don’t pass it on.

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do at the start of a new year is… nothing.

I think we should scrap January being the month we’re expected to change, make decisions, or start everything new.

Let it be the month of:

Rest. Reflection. Recovery.

Taking things day by day.

Allowing yourself to be a bit messy.

Instead of forgetting everything that happened last year, take time to acknowledge and talk about it. It’s not ‘bringing bad energy into the new year’ it’s reflection.

The good, the bad, the amazing, the highs, the lows - all of it.

Take your time, Queens. What’s the rush?

Goals are fucking amazing by the way. I’m not saying don’t set them. But they don’t need to happen immediately.

Goals can also change; allow that too.

Don’t feel like you’ve failed if the goal you set in January isn’t the same goal you want in April. This isn’t failure, this is growth.

Goals don’t need to be life changing and dramatic either. They can be small and simple.

Don’t kick yourself if you didn’t go to the gym five days a week.

Don’t kick yourself if you didn’t get up at 7am like you said you would every morning.

Seek progress. Enjoy the process.

You got out of bed 10 minutes earlier than you usually do - amazing.

You didn’t sleep through all of your alarms, only one of them - amazing.

You wore the same jeans but with a different top - amazing.

Tiny steps make the biggest changes, and you will get there.

So if you’re reading this feeling anxious, unmotivated, or like everyone else got some secret memo that you didn’t, I promise you - you are not alone.

A lot of people will be feeling bundles of pressure, but society has taught us that owning up to it is already failing, or embarrassing.

UGH. Fuck offfffffff.

The truth is: you’re not failing. You’re just in January.

So let this year unfold instead of forcing it to perform for you.

Look for the small wins you are winning.

Even if it doesn’t feel new right now, that’s okay too.

The year is new, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep up with it.

Move at your pace.

Feel what you feel.

There’s no deadline on becoming.

You don’t need to earn a good year.

You don’t need to rush.

So if all you do this month is show up, get through the days, and be a little kinder to yourself than you were last year: that’s enough.

You don’t owe January, or anyone else, a fucking thing.

All in favour, say hi!

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This year has been fucking crazy in the best, most unpredictable and most exciting way possible.

I started Substack.

I grew on Substack.

I made real connections.

I was in the top 100 writers here.

I did multiple collaborations.

I hit 1k subscribers… and then, a month later, 2k.

I also booked a wedding venue!

I left my old job, found a new one, hated it and quit.

I made £130 from digital products, including my first ever ebook.

Ugh, I turn myself on with how audacious I’ve been this year.

But honestly, all of this is fucking insane.

I could genuinely cry, because if I’d told the version of me in January 2025 that all of this would happen, she wouldn’t have believed me and politely tell me to fuck off.

The strangest part?

I’ve grown so much this year and believe in myself so much more, that I now genuinely think anything is fucking possible and it feels so bloody liberating.

So, as this year closes, I’m writing forward.

I’m writing a love letter to future me, but also to future you, for us.

I want us to come back to this letter next year and see how far we’ve come, together.

Did we achieve what we set out to do?

How much more did we grow?

What lessons did we learn along the way?

I strongly believe in naming things before they arrive.

So here it is; my manifestations for 2026, written in certainty and hope.

Dear Future Me,

By the time this finds you, you are being paid for doing what you love.

Even if it’s part-time, congratulations, Queen. I knew you could do it.

I’m so fucking proud of you.

I can’t believe you finally chose your wedding dress, too! That’s actually wild. Has it sunk in yet that you get to say you’re officially getting married next year?

I’m so happy you’re now connecting personally with your subscribers. The 1:1s you do have helped so many people, you showed up for them, and it mattered.

Also… you did it.

You hit 5k subscribers. Can you actually believe that?

Your second book sold really well, too. Seriously, well done Hun. I know how hard that was. I know how many times you thought you wouldn’t finish it, but you fucking did.

And oh my god, your artwork!

Selling five pieces made you so emotional for a reason.

It took time. The process was tricky. But you got there.

I am so beyond proud of how much more you have grown. You are thriving, you are unstoppable and you are helping so many women. You are making a change and it’s really starting to show.

I also am in love with your new tattoos and piercings.

Keep shining like the fucking superstar, you are.

I love you

Dear Future Us,

Thank you for still being here.

Thank you for still reading, replying, sharing, and subscribing.

Thank you for still trusting me with your time, the most precious thing you own.

Thank you for still believing in me, even when sometimes you haven’t believed in yourself (which, by the way, you absolutely fucking should).

This space became something because you showed up.

And it is still here strong, because you chose to stick around for a reason. I don’t take that lightly.

A community was built from nothing into something so fucking special I can’t even put it into words, because of you.

My words are always written from a place of pure honesty and love.

You see me, and I see you.

2025 introduced us.

2025 brought us together.

2026 made us a fucking team.

Look how much you’ve grown, Queens.

Oh my god, I could just burst with pride and inspiration.

The woman you were when you first subscribed compared to the woman you are now is insane. I told you, you could do it and you did.

I’m so fucking proud of you.

I love you.

This may be my last post of 2025, but this is the first chapter of many, many pages of many, many books of the I’m Just A Woman series.

Have you thought about writing a love letter to yourself?

What would you say?

What are you manifesting?

This is a space for all of this to happen, so drop it in the comments and we can all come right back here next year and see what happened!

How fucking exciting is that?

For now; Goodbye 2025, it’s been incredible.

Happy New Year to every single one of you, I wish you nothing but pure happiness, peace and love.

I’m Just A Woman

xoxo

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Last chance to get any two (or both) of these products for half price.

Offer runs out 31/12/25..

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I had no audience.

No plan.

Zero subscribers.

Yet here I am, nearly 2,000 strong without ads, algorithms, or burnout.

Insane.

But first, a little disclaimer huns: I’m no professional. I’m not a guru, I don’t get paid for this. I’m just a Northern woman from South Yorkshire trying to become a full-time writer and help as many women as I can along the way.

I’m not here to sell you a dream or sugarcoat anything, because that’s not me and honestly, what’s the fucking point? I just want to guide you as best I can. Hand on heart, I want the best for you.

Now, picture it:

Read more

Yes, this is so true but it’s also:

The most stressful time of the year

The most anxious time of the year

The most pressured time of the year

The most judgemental time of the year

Sad, but it’s become the truth.

This might not be the case for everyone, of course. We are all so unique and each persons’ Christmas experience is bound to be completely different.

I fucking love Christmas, it’s the most special time and me and my partner are like big kids.

However.. I have struggled in the past with all of the above:

Stress about money and presents.

Anxiety about seeing certain family members and preparing for the worst.

Pressure to make Christmas Day ‘perfect’

Judgements from others if you don’t have the biggest Turkey or the most expensive decorations or anything else you’ve done what is expected at this time of year.

All of this is 90% put onto the woman as well.

Women are organised.

Women should cook.

Women should be in charge.

CHOICE, HUNS.

Stop expecting so much from women, especially the mothers out there.

If they want to, fuck yeah! But if they don’t?

Get a fucking grip and sort things yourself you prick.

So, in the last few years I’ve stopped and asked myself more and more: WHY?

Why do we put ourselves through all of that?

Christmas is different for all of us, but for me it’s about relaxing, spending even more quality time together and to be honest? The food, music, films and drinks!

It looks different for everyone, so do what you want to do.

If you don’t want to have a Turkey, fuck it - don’t have one.

I completely understand and respect the traditions around Christmas but that’s all it is - a tradition, it’s not a rule.

It’s a guide.

It’s a suggestion.

So is going around to see every one you don’t really want to see.

So is you being in charge of cooking the dinner because you’re a woman.

UGH. (Don’t even get me started)

Also, the pressure to ‘forgive and forget’ just because it’s Christmas.

Again, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

December isn’t a free pass for people to be bellends and you must forgive them ‘just because’.

Fuck that.

You have to forgive people that have deeply hurt you, in your own time. You don’t need one month out of twelve to tell you, you should.

It’s become such a normalised thing to spend ridiculous amounts of money too.

I feel so shit especially, for the mothers that must sometimes feel so much pressure.

To make their Childs Christmas ‘perfect’

Spending extra money to compete with social media.

Being judged because the mum is the one that ‘should’ be ‘sorting’ everything out.

To all the mums out there, I just want to take a second to say:

You are fucking doing amazing.

I promise you - I don’t even remember half of the stuff I got, but I do remember the magical feeling.

I remember us all going downstairs and my dad saying ‘has he been?’ and me and my sister screaming with joy realising he had.

I remember the pure happiness of just opening gifts in general, no matter what it was.

I remember the love I felt and the cosiness of us all just spending time together as a family.

It’s fucking unfair how much pressure is placed on us all at Christmas time, especially the mums.

So, mums:

Please take a second and remember that no matter what society says, you don’t have to spend money or show off on social media.. happiness comes from within.

You are a fucking queen.

You are allowed and deserve it more than anyone to rest your feet up.

You don’t have to be the one to sort everything out.

So, this post is for anyone and everyone that feels that extra bit of pressure, anxiety and stress- let it go.

It is okay.

This is your permission that you didn’t even need in the first place to do, say, wear, behave, eat and drink whatever the fuck you want.

It’s time to make your own Christmas traditions, right?

Merry Christmas you absolute Queen.

You are loved.

You are special.

You are in my thoughts.

Your biggest cheerleader,

I’m Just A Woman

xoxo

An extra gift from me to you, to remind you how incredible you are on your down days:

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EEK, I had so much fucking fun recording this. I had this overwhelming urge to jump in front of the camera and just hit record. I was itching to speak to you all, directly.

I genuinely mean everything I say in this video.

Is it perfect? Nope.

Are my nails done? Nope.

Is my hair far too long and I’m need of a hair cut? Damn right.

But, I don’t give a single fuck.

It’s authentic.

It’s enthusiastic.

It’s unapologetic.

It’s honest.

It’s me.

I love writing for you and I fucking loved chatting to you.

Please, let me know your thoughts on everything said in this video.

You can also reach out to me via email: imjustawoman01@gmail.com

Or just message me, hun!

With love and sass,

Your biggest cheerleader

Jodie

I’m Just A Woman

I’ve always kinda felt like everyone else was given a handbook on how to be ‘normal’ and I missed the memo.

Not just how to be ‘normal’ in the sense of personality and creativity but how to move through work, ambition, relationships and even conversations.

I’ve never quite fitted into the traditional shape of things.

I’ve never felt comfortable being a follower of how things should be or how you should behave.

The 9–5 rhythm.

The polite ambitions.

The subtle excitement.

The quiet rebellion.

The muted way you’re supposed to want things - not too much, not too loudly, not too visibly.

I don’t understand how this is how we are all expected to be.

Life is so fucking exciting.

Life has so much to offer and there’s so much joy to be found in the smallest things. Yet, if you are ‘too’ excited about things? You’re trying to be the centre of attention.

You’re being over the top.

UGH.

Isn’t that sad?

Somehow, we have become a world that expects quietness, timidness and subtlety.

Maybe, it’s a British thing. Being too proud and uptight is apparently normal for us.

(Yeah right)

It feels like there’s this unspoken rule book and guide book but no one really knows the reasons why, we are all just expected to follow and not ask questions.

Fuck that.

I’m too curious.

I feel things deeply and passionately. I get animated. I light up. And somewhere along the way, I started to recognise that this made people feel uncomfortable.

That my joy was “a bit much.”

That my enthusiasm was embarrassing.

That I should tone it down if I wanted to be taken seriously.

So I tried to play by the book.

I tried to follow the rules.

I started to learn how to dilute myself.

How to soften my reactions.

How to hide parts of me to fit in.

But, I still didn’t feel like I belonged.

Why?

It took me a fucking long time to realise this:

Fitting in at the cost of yourself isn’t belonging.

Handing over your happiness for normality will never be the answer.

It’s fucking hard.

There’s a quiet grief that comes with realising you’re not built for the life you were told to want.

That the version of success everyone nods along to feels strange and lifeless to you.

That your nervous system, your values and your energy just simply don’t align with what’s considered “normal.”

BUT…

Being a curious individual is also so special.

Because you start to ask the questions, you observe more and you slowly will begin to realise:

Maybe you’re not difficult.

Maybe you’re not immature.

Maybe you’re not unprofessional or unrealistic or too sensitive.

Maybe you’re just not designed for smallness.

There are people who move through the world with contained energy and that’s okay.
And then there are people who experience life with their whole chest.

Who get excited.

Who care openly.

Who are passionate.

Who don’t know how to be half-hearted even when it would make things easier.

If you’re one of these people too, the world might try to shame you into shrinking.

But it will also need you, desperately, without even realising.

Your enthusiasm is not a flaw.

Your difference is not a liability.

Your inability to blend into a life that drains you is not a personal failing.

You don’t ever need to become more “normal.”

You need environments that don’t require you to shrink.

And maybe belonging was never about fitting in anyway.

Maybe it was always about finding the places where your uniqueness isn’t something to apologise for.

So, stop apologising Queen.

Hold your head up, stand tall and fuck following the unspoken rulebook of life.

It’s time to make your own rules.

What’s your first one going to be?

All in favour, say hi!

For that extra boost of confidence, self love and constant reminder that I’m always rooting for you:

Grab 24 Printable Affirmations created by me, for you: just £2.50

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It’s just pigment, wax, and oil.

But explain this to me…

Why is it, that the moment I start drawing it across my lips, I feel like I could fucking conquer the world.

I could be wearing anything and a red lip makes me feel unstoppable.

Pyjamas, underwear, a onesie or absolutely nothing else at all, if I’ve got red lipstick on: it’s game over.

Red lipstick doesn’t ask for permission to take up space. It demands it, and when I wear it, so do I.

It’s not just makeup. It’s a declaration.

It’s power.

It’s sexy.

It’s confidence.

Red lipstick is loud without making a sound. It’s classic, rebellious, elegant, and shameless all at once.

And I fucking love it.

It turns me on, it makes me feel alive.

It awakens my womanhood in every curve, and my strength in every muscle: both delicate and fierce at once.

I feel like I’m tapping into every woman who ever said “watch me” and then did the very thing everyone told her she couldn’t.

Fuck.

How can something so simple, change the way my mind and body feels instantly?

It must be the power in how vibrant and confident a bold red lip is.

It refuses mediocracy.

It refuses to blend in the background.

When I wear red lipstick I am saying to myself and everyone that sees:

Yes. I’m here bitches.

It reminds me that confidence isn’t something that only some of us have, it’s something you create, something you claim.

My question is: Why do women only feel it’s acceptable to wear a red lip for occasions?

I can’t wear red lipstick to the shop, that’s ridiculous

I’m only going on a walk, I’m not wearing red lipstick

Says who?

…..

EXACTLY.

For too long, women are told what to wear, how to behave and what to avoid.

We need to start taking this power back, and yes wearing a red lip to do normal, daily activities is a super woman move.

The colour ‘red’ has so many meanings:

Sexy

Dangerous

Rebellious

Fiery

Anger

Tempting

You know what else is red?

Stop signs. ‘Do not enter’ signs.

So let’s bring that into it shall we?

Let’s become a walking sign to signal to un wanted men: back the fuck off.

Crazy isn’t it, people will listen to a red inanimate object more than they would an actual, living, beautiful woman.

They wouldn’t ignore the stop sign because they don’t want to get in trouble.

They wouldn’t approach a ‘do not enter’ sign, in fear of being caught.

Crazy, isn’t it?

Wearing our red lipstick is our own version of saying ‘stop’ to every single fucker that tries to dull our sparkle or invade our space.

Red lipstick isn’t always worn to seduce you or tempt you.

I’m tired of repeating it, but we don’t wear a dress, make up or a fucking red lip - for you, hun.

We do it for us.

So, if you see a woman wearing a red lipstick: just know, she’s not wearing it for you, she’s wearing it to say 'fuck you’.

She's wearing it because she refuses to follow rules that red lipstick should only be worn at certain times.

Clark Kent might become superman when he takes off his glasses.

Give a woman a red lip?

Fucking superhuman.

All in favour, say hi!

Want to learn how I built so much confidence in the last few years? Get my brand new book “The Mindset Glow Up” right here: Fuck yeah, I want this!

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Nice to meet you properly Queens. So, this is me - the woman has been cheering you on and will continue to be your biggest cheerleader, the woman that is here to support you, guide you and help you transform into the best version of you ever and to become the woman you have always envisioned.

Your mindset is so powerful, it can literally change everything.

It’s not going to happen overnight, it’s a long process but start with the little things, step by step and you’re going to become unstoppable.

The only person holding you back is YOU.

Changing my mindset genuinely changed my life.

It will do this for you, too.

How did I do this?

Where to start?

What did I do?

In my new E Book, I share the three small steps that made a huge difference to my life as well as a personal insight into what my mind used to look like when it was cluttered by worry, anxiety and stress.

Are you ready to start your Mindset Glow Up? Yes please!