Overview

I'm not mad. I'm just bloody emotionally skint. A raw, funny, and unfiltered account of what it means to be a working-class woman surviving love, motherhood, judgement, and the bloody gas bill. Emotionally Skint isn't here to lecture or sugar-coat. It's a battle cry in a dressing gown, a cup of tea clutched tight while the world falls apart, and somehow, you still get the school run done. This book explores what it really costs to keep everything together when no one else is stepping up and you are the only one bloody trying. This is a no-judgement space, whether you've done sex work to pay the leccy, stayed in a shit relationship for the kids, or just cried in the chippy car park at 2 am because it was all too much. You're not alone. And you're not broken. Inside you'll find: Working-class feminism with bite and belly laughs Chapters on sex work, mothering on empty, and emotional labour Stories that sit somewhere between crying and cackling A reminder that dignity doesn't come from polish-it comes from survival If you've ever rationed the loo roll, apologized for asking for too much, or wondered why love feels like unpaid overtime then this one's for you.

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