You're Never The Only One - Noise Cancelling the World & The Guilt Discrepancy

Episode Date: October 10, 2022

In this episode Cat shares stories from a reader caught with her knickers down on a train and shares her own humiliating experience with her midwife. Plus, Cat admits she's addicted to noise cancelling the world, discusses why women are obsessed with True Crime and asks the question, 'Are women guilty of feeling too guilty or do men not feel guilty enough?'Follow Cat on Instagram and TikTok and head to her website to buy a signed copy of her book The First Time You Smiled (or was it just wind?)Buy The First Time You Smiled (or was it just wind?) Read the full article by Olga Khazan in The Atlantic: What Happens When You Always Wear Headphones?Read the full article in the Wall Street Journal.You're Never The Only One is written and hosted by Cat Sims, founder of Not So Smug Now, an online platform for people just trying to get through the day with some credit in the karma bank. The podcast is edited by Lucy Lucraft and executive producers are Bonnie Barry & Parami Kodikara.

The things I say do, I'm always what I mean. I'm neither saying or sin, I'm somewhere in between. This world is complicated, everything moves so quick. Thank you, that you've got to live. Everybody in love, you're never the only one. You're never the only one. Hi and welcome to you. Don't leave it to find a string, because everybody makes me a mistake.

You're going to get so many things wrong so much to do. Well, I need to prove to you every Monday morning. that in a nice as possible way. More heart special or unique. You don't know any more new rest of us, even though you're even though doesn't always like it, you are in fact, you're never the only one.

Hello and welcome back to You're Never the Only One, a podcast where we share our shit shows so that we can all make each other feel a bit better. Now, you may notice that it sounds a bit like I'm coming to you live from a public toilet or a baked bean can, but no, I'm actually coming to you from Sweden, but it's not Sweden's fault that the sound is bad, it's my fault. I brought my laptop, my microphone, my microphone stand and cable, my headphones and my interface. I even brought what I thought was the cable that connected my interface to my laptop, but it turns out it wasn't. So I'm now talking directly into my 10-year-old laptop, and this is the result. Please, please accept my apologies. Normal service will resume next week. Now, the response to the first two episodes has been incredible, thank you.

What I love most about the messages you send me is that I can see the podcast is doing exactly what I hoped it would do, which is, A, make us all feel less alone as we go about just doing our damned best, and B, making us laugh and setting us up for the week. But I got an email the other day saying, it's the best parenting podcast out there. And I thought, ah, I didn't think of this as a parenting podcast, which sounds silly now, but I know I'm a parent and I talk a lot about what happens when I parent. But really, I'm just a person who's trying to make it through to the end of the day with a little bit of credit in the karma bank. Granted, having kids can make that a little bit more difficult, but this isn't just a podcast for parents. So, what are we chatting about today? Well, we've got your letters, as ever, detailing some of the most wonderfully heartwarming,

funny, and at times, downright, humiliating things we've been through. I'm also going to tell you one of my own stories. I think I thought about telling it last week and then I chickened out, but here we go, we're going straight into it this week. I was reminded of it. and to this day, it makes me laugh and cringe in equal measure. So expect some serious sphincter clenching. I'll also be admitting to my latest addiction, headphones, and why it appears I need to noise cancel the world. Of course, it could just be me that's doing that,

but given the nature of this podcast, I suspect it isn't. Then we're going to get into guilt and how indulging in it is about as useful as a knitted condom. Of course, we're going to talk about mum guilt, that age-old albatross that gets hung around our necks the minute we dare to hoof a human out of our love tunnel, or indeed have one surgically removed through our abdominal sunroofs or adopt one. However you come to be responsible for a small human, it doesn't matter. You know that feeling of guilt, but I'm also going to chat about the other

things we feel guilty about and why there's such a gender discrepancy in the emotion of guilt. Finally, I'm going to be telling you all about my week, which incidentally is definitely going to take on a different tone because mostly I've been on my own since Wednesday, and let me tell There is no guilt here. In other very exciting news before we get on with this podcast, I am also launching a competition on Instagram today at Not So Smug Now in association with The Wall Room. What's the Wool Room? Well, I'm glad you asked. Let me tell you, the woolroom is all about two things in particular. Firstly, they're passionate about using 100% British wool in all their products and they've combined this with their commitment to helping us all sleep better. Now, I get you, wool-filled pillows, mattresses, stoppers and duvets may not sound like the coolest things to sleep in and on, but that's where you'd be wrong. It's actually a natural fibre, which means that it's the best way to regulate your body temperature. So if like me, you wake up swimming in damp sheets with rivulets of hot sweat pouring down between your boobs due to your medication, or because you're perimenopausal

or indeed menopausal, or because you're going through medical treatments that make you feel either very, very cold or very, very hot, then I highly recommend you get involved with this competition. It's part of my gift match campaign. It's not an ad. I'm just using this platform to promote the competition. But they are a wonderful company, so I highly recommend you head to my Instagram tonight and get involved. But for now, let's get on with it, shall we? So straight to your letters, which you continue to send me in a way that, frankly, fills me with joy. It's probably a good time to remind you that my box, inbox, that is, is always gaping wide open, ready for you to fill it with all your

fun times and fuck-ups. Uh-huh, that's what she said. I want to hear about the balls who dropped, the spinning plates that fell, but I also want to know about the moments you wish that there was some sort of service that delivered an adult of the year award to you because you fucking nailed life. If you've got something that you want to share, or maybe you don't want to share, but you know it's a great story, then send it over to me at you're never the only one at gmail.com. Yes, I know you're going to get sick of me saying it, but it's Y-O-U-R-E.

If you want to remain anonymous, then please make sure you let me know. Otherwise, I'll definitely be outing you. So, to our first letter, which is from Karen. That is her real name, and there's no Karen jokes here, please. We use Janet, Janet from down the road. Anyway, Karen writes. Hi, I've been following you for a while,

and I love your content. To be honest, I probably could have edited that bit out, but why would I? I have two girls myself. I'm a single mum, and I run a tech company. So I recently moved in with my parents to manage it all, and weird to say, but I'm loving it. Why did we ever move away from a multi-generational living? Well, I can think of a few reasons, Karen, to be honest. I'm joking, Dad, if you're listening.

I love you, you're wonderful, but small doses, yeah? Back to Karen. I was on a train about 15 years ago from Scotland to London to see my this. then boyfriend, now ex-husband, that's a transition, and I needed a wee. The only toilet operating was the disabled one, which had one of those massive curved doors that slide open so very, very slowly. So I queued, went in and got to the part where I have to lock the door and do my thing. There were so many flashing buttons and I had no idea what I was doing. Listen, just to interject here, I actually saw this recently on someone's Instagram where they said something like,

name a more stressful situation, and they were in one of those loos. and their camera was pointing at all those blinking buttons, and it was such a hard relay, because when you're desperate for a wee, and I've got ADHD, so I'm always desperate for a wee when I go. Anyone else? I mean, we literally do all the other things until our bladder is about to explode before we'll go to the loo.

Anyway, when you're like that, and you've seen the toilet, it's in your eye line, so your bladder's already breathing that sigh of drippy relief. And then you realise you've got to figure out which button to press to activate Operation Door Close, followed by a separate button that initiates door lock system, you're already wishing you put a tenor pad in, and that's before you even consider the potential humiliation

of not completing that process properly. It's a lot, and the anxiety is real. Speaking of which, let's continue. Karen says, I thought I'd locked it, and so I removed the necessary garments and drop with relief onto the toilet. Just as I'm midstream,

sitting there with my knickers around my ankles, the door suddenly creaks, oh so very, very slowly and starts to open to the absolute horror of about three men all waiting to use the loo after me. Oh, Karen, do you know what it is about this story? It's the slow motion nature of it all. It's the this should be something that we can stop, but we can't because you're sat on the loo and too far away, those loos are too big and it's a big mechanised structure that nothing is going to stop once it started. So it's this slow motion reveal of humiliation

that I can feel for you. Anyway, what happened? Well, the men jumped into action. All heaved together and forced the door to close. Bless them, that was good. So I could pull my pants on. I washed my hands and tried to open the door, but they were still holding it, so it took some knocking

and some embarrassing shouting to get back out. Oh my God, I can just imagine. Hello? Excuse me, I'm finished now. Can you let me out? Oh, bless you, Karen. I went to my seat and sat down mortified, but that's not where it ends. Oh, lordy, lordy. A few minutes later, a guy sat down. This is the point at which I have to remind you, my dad called me to tell me that he loved my podcast, but then I need to stop laughing because he can't hear what I'm saying. So that just ran through my mind at that point. So I'm going to try and compose myself. and continue with the story so that my father can hear. A few minutes later, a guy sat down, a few rows to the, I'm really struggling, a few rows to the front and starts recounting a story to his travel companions. Guys, guess what just happened?

This girl was on the loo. And then I had to now hear the entire encounter narrated by that guy and live through it all over again. You've got to laugh right. Karen, you do have to laugh. That's the only, it's literally the reason. for this podcast, we just have to tell these stories and laugh. You are certainly not the only one that worry is about those toilet doors on trains and now, at least your experience has proven

that this is not an unfounded worry. We have good reason to. So ladies and gentlemen, if you're on a train and you need the loo, don't wait until you're desperate. You'll be thrown into a panic and you'll be revealed on the toilet to all who are waiting. While on the subject of embarrassing stories, I think now might be a good opportunity to take it. tell you about the time that makes me cringe and laugh all at the same time. This is hands down one of my favourite stories because honestly you couldn't make up. You just couldn't. It is 100% true from beginning to end.

And this is what happened. It was about 10 days after I'd given birth to my first baby. So at this point, I'm all new to this. I don't know my ass from my elbow. I've got stitches. I can only sit down on a donor. I'm still at the stage where I'm pouring warm water over my volum. while I wee. If you know, you know. I've already had misnitus once. I'm wondering what the

fuck I've done, how I'm going to survive it. But I'm thinking, I've got to day 10 and the midwife is coming today so I can get some help and advice. That's where I am. I should also mention at the time that we were renovating our house. Of course we were, because that's what we all do when we're about to give birth. We were literally living in a building site and there were various workmen always coming in and out of the house. The Tyler, I think, was in the bathroom, the plumber was coming to fit some radiators, the builder was replastering the living room. It was like Kingscross Bloody Station. So the doorbell rings. Ding dong. I'm in bed and Jimmy answers the door and I hear a woman at the door and he sends her up to me and tells where I am

and she sort of comes in, stops at the door, leans against the door and I introduce myself and before she can even get her name out, I'm already just throwing all these issues at her. I'm telling her about the blisters on my boobs. I think I even show her. Like, I think I sort of stretch my boob out so that I can put it closer to her where she's standing at the door to show her my blisters. I tell her that I'm worried about my stitches and that she might want to take a look. I tell her I'm exhausted. I get a bit teary. I'm offloading. Like, it's messy and emotional and raw. And I don't think I realize how much I wanted to say all of these things to someone who would get it until I see her standing there. As I mentioned, the whole time the Midwife

is standing by my bedroom door. She hasn't come in. She's just leaning against the doorframe. She's not saying very much. I mean, I'm not giving her much of a chance to, to be honest. And so when I come to the end of my emotional verbal explosion, I say, so do you want to examine me? And she looks at me as if I've lost my freaking mind.

She starts to speak, but like she trips up over her words. She's clearly very uncomfortable. And I'm starting to get a real sense of unease. I don't know what's wrong, but I'm very certain that something is wrong. So I ask her, you know, is everything okay? And she says, yeah, yeah, it's fine. It's just that I'm the plumber. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you heard that right.

I had just spent 10 minutes telling this poor lady the literal ins and outs of my bodily functions without realizing that she was here to check a whole different set. of pipes. Now, there is no way to overstate my level of humiliation and shame at this point. All I could keep thinking about was the time I asked her to look at my stitches, the time I stretched my boob out so that she could see the blisters. I literally just pulled a duvet over my head and died right there on the spot. And later on, Jimmy was like, oh, I'm so worried that she's going to think I'm such a massive bell-end and misogynist because I just assumed she was the midwife because she's a woman. And I'm like, this is not about you.

This is not about you. This is about the time I asked the plumber to check my vaginal stitches. I honestly don't think I'm ever going to get over that. It's a good story though. Anyway, welcome back. So we're going to talk about headphones. Now, I don't know about you, but it is unusual. now for me to go on any tube or bus in London and see somebody without headphones if they are

under the age of 50. Am I wrong? I don't think I am wrong. I don't know if it's just a London thing. I can't imagine that it is. But more and more and more headphones are a staple when we leave the house. Now, I read an article by Olga Kazan in the Atlantic. It was online. I'll link the full article in the show note, where she talks about how headphones have started to become a permanent fixture in our lives. And she writes, I own three pairs of noise-canceling headphones. Two go over my ears, enveloping them in cozy tombs of silence. One pair consists of earbuds, one of which I jam into my ear to block out the world, while I use my other ear for phone interviews. Besides the noise-canceling kind, I have headphones for basically every activity I do. In fact, I recently came to

the disturbing realization that there's rarely a moment of my day when my ears are not filled with or covered by something. Like many other Americans, I now wear AirPods all day at my desk to combat the awful tyranny of the open office. Since they don't cancel noise, they provide me with writing music while allowing me to listen up for my bosses. I don't like exercise classes and their pre-selected generic playlists. So instead, I work out with headphones and listen to my own special running mix, the contents of which can be disclosed only upon my death. Let's just say, the dream of the 90s is alive on my Spotify. I like to listen to podcasts while I cook,

so the earbuds come in handy while I chop and saute. And I can hook up headphones to a Rocco when I want to watch a depressing foreign TV show and my boyfriend wants to do literally anything else. To those who lived before headphones, it might seem as though I want to exist in the world without actually being part of it. And to some extent, that's true.

I hear you. Urban millennials like me and me don't inhabit a world that allows for much privacy. We've been squeezed into closely packed offices, closely packed subway cars and closely packed apartments. Everyone else's noises are constantly everywhere, so your head is the only personal space you can get. Granted, I share it with Brian Eno and Twin Shadow, but at least the choice is mine. This auditory selectivity is in some ways part of a trend towards bespoke experiences, particularly in upper middle class life. Many Americans don't befriend their neighbours anymore.

They befriend people with their same hobbies and interests. We don't date the girl next door. We date the girl who's been served up by an assortative algorithm. With the help of Facebook, we read the news we want to read, instead of the news we should. Social media connected us, and then the connection grew too close for comfort, so now we cancel those we don't want to hear from. I realize the dangers inherent in this overall trend. I might even go so far as to call it socially alienating and destructive of relationships, but I nevertheless feel it's inexorable. At this point, everything is curate.

it, except of course what we hear. And as long as unfamiliar sounds are going to be foisted on me all day, it feels good to draw a private, firm border. The buck stops at my cochlear. Just like we choose everything else, I choose exactly what to put in my ears. All other noise is cancelled. This article, which you can find in the show notes, I found fascinating because have you ever tried to leave a house without your headphones? Have you been on a tube or train without your headphones oh my god it's like hello welcome to your feelings i'm these thoughts that you've been avoiding for so long you know plus you have to hear everything and she's so right about the fact that we live in urban areas that are so tightly packed because i live in london you don't have to walk

very far before you hear a man hocking a massive blob of phlegm and spitting it as far as you can or the guy who's talking so loudly on the phone you might as well just open the fucking window and shout or, and this is the person we all hate, that ultra-annoying idiot, I'm saying it, who just decides to sack off his headphones all together and subject the rest of us to his shitty EDM at 7.30 a.m. on the morning commute. It's not okay people. It's not okay. My AirPods are up there with my phone, lip gloss and keys as absolutely essential items I must have on me at all times. I genuinely get anxiety when I know they're not on me or they're not charge. And I won't even try working out without them. I

once got to the gym, realized I'd forgotten my AirPods and thought I'm not doing it, so I sat down and read a book in the cafe instead. It makes me want to put my fingers in my ears because here's the thing, I don't always have something playing as well. Sometimes they're just in there to dull the noise. This is really bad. Sometimes I get so used to wearing them, I actually forget I'm wearing them. And I've been known to turn the house upside down to find those little white pods of joy before realizing I've been wearing them the whole time. It's like the millennial version of having your glasses on your head. Plus, how flipping useful are they? Especially when you've got to run around getting all those little jobs done in the house. You know, you've got to clean the bathroom and fold

the laundry and mop the floors and change the beds. And the only thing that's going to get you through that is a true crime podcast. There's nothing like hearing about a serial killer that cuts up his victims into tiny pieces before making jewelry from their bones and selling it to rich shakes to make the cleaning time just fly by. That, by the way, is not. That, by the way, is not. a real podcast, but I would be all over it if it was. Also, women specifically love true crime podcasts. I'm obsessed. I know you guys are too because I get DMs telling me all about it. I've even got a highlight on my Instagram page about true crime podcasts and it's one of the most watch highlights I have. And I started to wonder why. Is it because women in general

tend to have like higher levels of empathy and so we're drawn more into these dark tales because we connect with the victims and people involved on a deeper level. Or maybe it's, is it an outlet for our rage? Maybe on some deep and subconscious level we're indulging in something so traditionally anti-feminine, because as we all know, the majority of serial killers are men, that it's tapping into a rage or an anger that we're not normally allowed to express. That's a bit dark, but it might be true.

Unless, of course, the only time I get to express that kind of rage is, you know, when your kids haven't put their shoes on, despite the 17 times you've asked them. But this is what I actually think it is. I think women love true crime podcasts and books and documentaries because we fucking know we need to do our research. We need to gather all the information we can about the men that are most likely to kill us.

Like what are the red flags? Ooh, this house smells like rotting bodies and he says it's old meat that he forgot about, but I've watched armour. So I know this guy's probably slicing up men and making sandwiches out of them. I'm going to politely make my excuses and make like a banana in split.

We as women want to know what the men look like who do this stuff and we also want to know what the girls were doing when they got killed so that we can make sure that we don't, you know, get hankering to put ourselves in that position. I'm currently, as I've mentioned in Sweden, and I'm on my own and I'm in an area that is really busy in the summer and not busy at all in the winter, right by the coast. Let me tell you it's the perfect setting for a murder that would end up as a true crime podcast.

Honestly, I messaged my friend whose house it was and I said, listen, if I'm discovered brutally murdered, you have to make sure a true crime podcast is made about it. I would be gutted, literally gutted, probably physically and emotionally, if I was murdered and a true crime podcast wasn't made out of it.

Like, what would be the point? It would frankly be such a waste of excellent content. right we've got a quick rundown of my fun times and fuck-ups this week listen i'm away i've been on my own and even i can only fuck up so much when i'm on my own so it's not as plentiful as it has been in weeks past or indeed as it will be in weeks to come but i've done my best so as you know i've been painting my kitchen at home let me just say that is a job of gargantuan levels that i would not recommend to anybody. It's definitely one of those jobs that I probably did because my ADHD told me it was a good idea. My hyperfocus made it possible and the fact that coat paints agreed

to gift me the paint. Those were really the only reasons. I think if I'd been in my right mind, I just would have thrown money at the problem and got somebody else to do it, a professional. I would say it's worked out 78% really, really well. Of course, in the process, the cat managed to get paint on all four paws and then walk it around the house. I did when I took the kickboards out from the bottom of the kitchen discover a whole city of mice living under the cupboards. They've literally built like houses, roadways, dining restaurants. It's impressive. I can't bring myself to think of ways to remove them because I have to admire their resilience. I still haven't booked my kids dentist appointments, nor have I booked my urgent psychiatrist's appointment. I haven't brought

enough meds with me for my trip, so that'll be a fun flight back. And I bought a handbag at the airport that I definitely can't afford. But she's so beautiful and she'll last lifetime. I'll be able to hand her down to my kids. And I can always tell my husband that it was a TK Max bargain. Now, on the good news, in the fun times, here's the thing that I did really well this week. I put myself first. Oh, I know. I recognized I was exhausted and drained and I took myself away for five days. And I'm going to talk more about this later in the podcast, but it isn't something I've always been good at doing. In the BT days, that's what I call before therapy days, I would run myself into the ground and expect someone else to notice and say, hey, you look like you need a break,

like take me by the elbow, sit me down and go, here's a plane ticket and a packed suitcase, I'll see you in a week. Don't worry, go and have fun. And when they didn't do that, I'd be all angry and resentful because in my head I'd be like, well, they don't even care. They don't know. They don't know how I'm feeling. They don't know anything about me. How can they say they love me? And I'd be annoyed that they hadn't telepathically picked up on all of my needs and wants. But now, post-therapy, I said to Jimmy, look, I've got this book to write and I really need a break. I'm going to go away for five days when you're home. Is that okay? He was like, yeah. Now, I know that not everybody has that set up in which they can do it. But it's not about

necessarily what your time away looks like, but it's about being okay with asking for it, without making yourself feel like a terrible person, or without assuming they're a terrible person for not just knowing. This, incidentally, almost like I planned it, is the perfect segue into what's coming up next, which is lots and lots of juicy discussion about guilt. So let's talk guilt. Now, specifically, the guilt we feel when we put our own needs first. As a parent, this is an issue we come up against many times a day. But even if you don't have kids, women especially struggled to put their needs ahead of others' needs. Maybe it's your boss or your partner or your parents or friends,

whatever it is. We seem as women to be predisposed to believe that being a good person means putting ourselves last. So are we, as women, guilty of feeling too guilty? Or, is it that men don't feel guilty enough? I was reading an article in the Wall Street Journal that wrote about the guilt associated with working beyond your set work hours and how that's different between men and women. Now, it's specifically about work, but I actually think that this discrepancy of feeling guilty applies to pretty much everything between men and women. So, here goes, let's see what you think. Women tend to feel 30% to 40% more guilty and distressed than men when they have to take work-related calls or emails at home, says a recent study in the

Journal of Health and Social Behaviour. The finding is based on interviews with 1,042 working Americans. Researchers measured frequency of contact with the office via phones, beepers, pages, fax. What? When was this article written? Beepers, pages and faxes? Huh? And emails that require a response. To measure guilt, have asked participants how often during the previous week they felt guilty. Distress was measured by asking how often they, quote, felt that everything was an effort, felt tired or run down, or had trouble keeping your mind on what you were doing. I mean, if you're asking me, that's 100% of the time. Anyway, while all women reported increased feelings of guilt and distress when work spilled into home life in these ways,

mothers with young children suffered more negative feelings than other women. Men, meanwhile, seem to take intrusions by work in stride. I'm not shocked. Other research has shown that the impact on kids of mothers working is largely neutral in the first year. Nevertheless, the study shows that despite rapid growth in dual-earner households, significant gender differences remain, the authors say. Women still do most of the child. care. Again, not shocked. Also, their employment is often symbolically in competition with their

ability to feel like good mothers. Now, that study in itself may only be referring to work-related guilt, but it doesn't take a genius to suggest that this guilt discrepancy between men and women occurs in many more facets of life. I'm, as I've mentioned, I don't know if I have mentioned, did I talk about it already? I'm away for five days because, yes, I have to write a book, but also because I needed mentally and physically to get away. I've just done five weeks of solo parenting and I needed a break. Now, I know I'm privileged to be able to take a break for that long and I know that what I'm about to say doesn't necessarily apply to all parents,

especially single parents. So don't think I'm disregarding your set up if you're a single parent because I honestly have nothing but total fucking admiration for what you do. I know that our hards are different and that my hard feels hard to me. but I also know that your hard would feel really fucking impossible for me to handle. And I 100% get that. And I want you to know that I don't underestimate how strong, resilient, patient and frankly knackered you must be.

So to all the single parents out there, please know, I'm sending you all the love and strengths. But in my situation, lots of people are always shocked when I say, Jimmy just got back home and I'm going to leave. And they're like, don't you want to spend time with him? And I sort of think, well, yeah. but I'd rather spend time with him when I'm not living on my last fucking nerve

and liable to dig his eyes out with a rusty spoon and hang them around his neck. And it's not just because I have the potential to be a massive bitch when I'm on the back end of being the only responsible adult in the house. But he's not great when he comes back from tour either. Like he needs a hot minute to adjust from tour life to family life.

Tor life is free and individualised and full of spare time and zero responsibilities when it comes to people, he doesn't have to worry about anybody else, just has to worry about doing what he needs to do. Family life is not like that. It's chaotic and crowded and full of infinite teeny tiny and gargantuan responsibilities that feel overwhelming. So me getting away for a few days at the beginning of that gives him a chance to find his feet in the family dynamic and me a chance to put the bitch away for another time. And inevitably the other question people ask is, of course,

don't you feel guilty? Actually, they don't say that now that I think about it. It's always way more passag than that. What they actually say is, oh, I don't think I could do that. I think I'd feel too guilty. And I'm not mad at them for that, because this guilt thing is so pervasive and so stubborn that it feeds off our souls and it can feel baffling to think that someone doesn't feel that guilt, that they're somehow immune to it. Well, listen, I'm not immune to it, but I have and I've had to get pretty good at not ignoring it, but discarding it for what it is, which is a fantasy. It's not real.

I know we want to get mad at men because they walk out of the door to play a round of golf and clearly don't feel an ounce of guilt, even if they've been out of their house all week at work. Golf, by the way, men have got such a good thing going with golf. Like, we're like, oh, I'm going to go do Pilates. It takes an hour, annoying, we're back. It's not long enough. Golf, it takes a fucking weekend.

we need to take up golf ladies anyway i don't think we should get mad at men for that i think we should learn from them and i know that there are those of you out there who just can't see a world in which you're able to waltz out the door without a care in the world and i get it but here's what i learned in therapy i had to actually ask for that time like i mentioned it before pre-therapy i didn't do that you know and i would struggle and until I fell on my face. And it was in therapy, and I was going on about how broken I was

and how I felt like he just didn't care or didn't take the time to notice. And the therapist said, you know, what would help? And I was like, do you know what? Just a few days off would be great. And she said, and have you said that to Jimmy? And I was like, no. And Jimmy was like, would that help?

Like, is that what you want to go away? And I was like, are you fucking joking? I'd course I'd like to go away for a few days you Wimber Seal But there wasn't an of course Like Jimmy didn't know that I mean in Jimmy's mind he was like If I told you to go away for a weekend I thought you'd be offended that I was trying to get rid of you

We weren't communicating brilliantly I'll be honest To be honest I think when I left as well He was really excited to be in charge And to be in the house without me You know following him around with a vacuum cleaner And tutting every time you didn't put something away It doesn't mean that I don't still feel

feel guilt. Like, I will still sort of kill myself in the days before making sure the uniform's clean, the meals are prepped, the house is tidy. And I, and I do it because I feel guilty. And it doesn't matter how many times Jimmy says, you don't need to feel guilty, you don't need to do all this, I've got it, just go away and enjoy it. I do struggle in the run up to me leaving to not feel guilty. But let me tell you, when I am out, the minute I am out of that door, the minute I am out of that door. I feel fucking incredible. And I know I just have to get out of the door. I just have to leave the house because as soon as that happens, I can already feel myself recharging. I have left my heavy sack of responsibility in the house and I am lighter. I can feel myself start to

relax and I can literally feel myself turning into a nicer human. And you know what? For all those trolls who send messages saying, oh, it's horrible to see you want to be away from your kids all the time or what's the other one? Why did you even have kids if you don't want to spend time with them? Please know this. It's never about getting away from the kids. I love the bones of my kids. It's about getting away from the responsibility that comes with those kids. It's about putting that mental load down for a few days and not having to worry about wiping anybody else's ass except your own. It's about not having to plan every minute of the day down to the last second to make sure you don't forget something. It's about handing that responsibility over to the

other adult in my life, who, by the way, is just as responsible for the fruits of my vagina as I am and saying, here, hold this for a minute, will you? And it is, it's just like that. You know, when you've been carrying a really heavy shopping bag for a while and someone says, here, give me that. And you hand it over. And the relief that you get from that muscle that's been straining consistently as it relaxes and returns to its normal size and shape, almost make sure I'm feel lighter than it ever has before. And it's that. That's all we're doing when we take time to ourselves.

We're handing over a heavy bag and saying, here, can you hold this for me for just a minute? So I'm here in Sweden and I returned to the UK on Monday and I was speaking to my mum on the phone. She said, oh, darling, I bet you're looking forward to getting back home, aren't you? And I was like, no, not at all. I will be so pleased to be home when I am home. And I'll hold those kidlets of mine so tight.

they'll fight me off, but you better believe that I'm going to enjoy every second before I walk back in that door, guilt-free. So if you have a partner, and I'm conscious that this again isn't the case for single parents, although if you have a support system, then please know that it's okay for you to ask for this too. Whether it's a week, a day, an hour, work that time away into your schedules. It has to be right there and it has to be often. It doesn't have to be for any reason either. You don't have to justify it a bit like I've done my going, well, I have to go and write a book.

You don't have to do anything. You can just go because you need to go. You don't need to go on a work trip. You doesn't need to be a friend's wedding or to look after great Auntie Doris. You can just leave because you need to go and do something that you want to do. I found that actually there were people who were really excited to take that off me for a bit

and that maybe I had to admit that my controlling nature had played into, my inability to take a break. That's just me. But for now, here's the message. Forget that narrative that says a good mum or a good human puts themselves last. Martyring ourselves doesn't do anyone, any good. And that's it. Another week, another podcast over. Thank you as ever for listening and, of course, to anybody who sends in your stories. You truly are some of my favourite people. If you do have any stories that you want to send in or if you've got any comments on anything that's been said then please drop me an email app

You're Never The Only One at gmail.com And yes, that is Y-O-U-R-E. So with that, I'll sign off. I hope you have a fucking fantastic week. I hope this podcast has put you in a good mood and I hope that if you want to ask for some space, you get the chance to do it. You're never the only one is written and presented by me, Kat Sims, author of the first time you smiled, or was it just wind, and creator of Not So Smug Now, an online platform for those of us who are waking up every day and just trying to do the best they can.

Follow me and get all your podcast info by heading to at Not So Smug Now on Instagram and TikTok and not so smugnow.com. You'll also be able to read things I write, including articles and my book, which by the way is probably the best baby shower gift you can get at the moment. and soon you'll be able to pick up merch there as well. You're Never the Only One is produced and edited by Lucy Loucroft and executive producers are Bonnie Barry and Paramee Codicara. Our original music is written and performed by Hot Salad. Yeah, I really fancy the bass player. Please check them out wherever you stream your music

and on Instagram at Your Mum Likes Hot Salad. See you soon. I'm neither saint or sinner I'm somewhere in between This world is complicated Everything moves so quick And lying to yourself If you think that you've got to live

You're never the only one You're never the only one Don't live inside your strength Because everybody makes mistakes Don't judge me I'm a weakness Don't judge me on my floor Because no one's really perfect by the Grace of God go our soul

Everybody know You're never the only one You're never the only one Don't live inside the shame Because everybody makes mistakes Oh Taking the time to make sure everything's okay Picking up like to everyone else each and every day

When I feel like nothing left for you to spend on you You're allowed to be happy too Never the only one You're never the only one You're never the only one Don't live inside your shame Because everybody makes mistakes Oh

You're never the only one You're never the only one You're never the only one Because everybody makes mistakes. Oh. Thank you.