Women who run with the wolves
- Feb 2
- 2 min read
I didn’t plan on writing about this book. I had tried to read it before and never really made it through. It felt heavy, layered, something I didn’t quite have the space for at the time. Looking back, that already said enough.
When I picked it up again recently, I didn’t start with the intention to finish it. I opened it somewhere in the middle, in a chapter about creativity, and came across a passage that stopped me. Not because it was beautifully written, but because it felt uncomfortably familiar.
It spoke about how creativity is so often pushed into the leftover moments of a woman’s life. How it is something we are expected to tend to only after everything else has been taken care of. After work. After care for your children. After the house. After all the things that never really seem finished.
And it felt closer to my own life than I expected.
For a while now, I’ve carried this quiet knowing that I want to write a new book. That SANUI is not just a project or a platform, but something much deeper. Something that feels like life’s work. And yet, without consciously deciding it, I had placed it at the very end of my days.
I would do my work. I would care for Gabriel. I would take care of the house. I would take care of myself, as best as I could. And only then, if there was anything left, I would allow myself to write. But here is the thing... there is rarely anything left. Housework never ends. Care work never ends. If I wait until everything is done, I will be waiting forever.
Reading that passage didn’t make me feel guilty or behind. It simply made something clear. I saw how easily the things that matter most to me slip into the margins of my days, not because they aren’t important, but because everything else keeps demanding to go first.
I don’t have a plan for this yet, and I’m not trying to turn it into one. I just know that what I want to create cannot live only in the spaces that remain. Seeing that, naming it, already shifts something.
And for now, that feels like enough.
With love,
Sofie
