Ageing, menopause and buckling under the mental load - I feel Linda's pain in Channel 4's The Change

If you haven't seen The Change on Channel 4, I guarantee you it's well worth your time - and if the mental load already has you running for the hills, it might just nudge you to want to make that dream a reality.

The Change is back for a second series on Channel 4, and if you haven't seen it yet, I have a simple message for you: Get it on your screen right now. If you're already a fan of Bridget Christie's unexpectedly touching menopause comedy, welcome back - do you want to join me in living in a cave in the Forest of Dean complete with bats and a growing colony of cats? Great, let's go.

The BAFTA-nominated comedy's second outing lands on Channel 4 on March 25, and is created, written by, co-directed and stars my new total hero - award-winning stand-up comedian, actor, and writer Bridget Christie. Now I've seen the series, I want to worship at the altar of Bridget Christie for making me feel seen more than anyone in my entire life.

Like Bridget's character in the show, Linda, I feel entirely invisible pretty much all of the time. I was hooked on her character from the first moments of series 1, when she's at her 50th birthday being ignored by her children glued to their phones, and by her husband who wants to be centre of attention - having organised and catered for the entire event entirely alone. I understand this level of obscurity as many women will.

Clarity comes for Linda at this stage, and forgetting what a shoe is called is the icing on the cake - finding out she doesn't in fact have dementia but is going through the menopause, Linda snaps.

Crushed by the mental load, the invisibility of ageing and the sheer frustration of merely existing as a woman, Linda wants to take back control. Leaving behind her ledger, pages and pages documenting time she's spent undertaking unseen and unpaid labour (amounting to six years of her life in fact), she's off like a bat out of hell to a dilapidated caravan in the Forest of Dean - and everyone else can go f***k themselves.

In my household, I am the person, I am Linda. I'm the one solely responsible for 100% of the washing, ironing, cooking, cleaning, boring but necessary jobs that are predominantly delegated to women. This also includes planning for, and attempting to pre-empt and manage this relentless domestic drudgery even when I'm away.

When this added workload nobody ever notices/helps/thanks me for - delete as appropriate - doubled when I added two children into the mix, it meant I was permanently relegated to the bottom of the pile - nothing I want to do or any sort of self-care happens, lest me daring to step aside for one moment means the five billion plates I'm precariously juggling should come crashing down.

Linda and the fabulously quirky community of women she finds herself slowly but surely accepted by in the Forest, understand my life too. All feel the burden of judgment rained down on women all of the time, with differing levels of penalties attributed to those who do and don't have children, but collective suffering when it comes to the invisibility that comes with ageing and years spent caring for men.

"You'll be judged for this," Linda is told by her hysterical family when they find out she's pretending she isn't married and doesn't have a family because she's sick and tired of her life being defined by being a mother. A man would certainly not come under the same kind of scrutiny for the same decision.

All of this happens while her inept husband wastes away in a sea of never having a clean towel to hand and finds it isn't a fairy who replaces the loo roll when it comes to an end. I had a particular cackle at this, as even when I feel I've planned my absences to within an inch of my life, I'll still get the panicked phone calls about where to find the washing tablets - from someone whose rarely had to put a load on in their life.

I won't lie, I instantly envied Linda. Go ahead and judge me for wishing I could go somewhere on a jolly and conveniently forget I'm married with children - bring it on, I was even fantasising about it while watching the show.

Also, the Forest of Dean couldn't be a more perfect setting for someone bringing joy to the transition of menopause and trying desperately to change the narrative on this stage of life.

Living near and visiting the area multiple times a year myself, I'm in total agreement with Linda who instantly identifies it as 'otherworldly,' - the forest has an implacably spiritual aura, even for someone who doesn't really have the time to feel or explore spirituality due to always mentally planning the upcoming week's logistical gymnastics.

Even before I fell in love with The Change, I had a running joke with a friend that as the cracks in my sanity deepened, the closer I came to running off to the Forest of Dean to live in a cave. How ironic that the show that I identify with on every level happens to be set in the place where my moment-of-peace fantasies play out in my head.

Forger a threesome with Jason Momoa and Henry Cavill - my idea of heaven is a few days where I don't feel like Dobby the house elf and don't have to make everyone's dinner. Intimate relations with those two would require hair removal and probable flare-up of perimenopause-related genitourinary syndrome of menopause (GSM), and nobody can be bothered with that.

I adore how The Change strives to instill peace and inner acceptance in those watching it, despite my pessimism that feminism hasn't really come on hugely since we were burning women at the stake. However, I still found myself with sudden and unwanted tears in my eyes when Linda tells a young girl, "You shouldn't have to wait until you get to 50 to love yourself."

That gives me a few years then at least, before time runs out in the self-love stakes. As somebody who ardently avoids mirrors like it's an Olympic sport, I had to stop myself dwelling on this standout line.

I currently have a terrible relationship with my appearance because the medication I took due to all the mental load buckling made me gain weight, and the exercise I wish I could do never gets done because something or someone always needs my time more.

And why do I not like my reflection? Because the patriarchy has done a right number on me to enforce the belief I need to be thin to be worthy of love, attention, or, just about anything really.

I apologise for being avidly body-positive about others while feeling these thoughts about myself - it takes a long time to undo years of diet culture and heroin chic images I was fed during the 90s. I also don't have the time to invest in cutting through the binds of ingrained fatphobia because I've, you know, got floors to sweep and lunch boxes to make.

I can't wait to join Linda once again on her self-discovery voyage and hope The Change gets many more seasons. I really do wish I could tag along with her - and take the hordes of my friends in the same position as me to befriend the Eel sisters and the wonderful DJ Joy; Tanya Moodie has the most soothing voice and presence ever, and I reckon she'd definitely pull us out of our downtrodden, hot flashy, mood swingy slump.

The Change series 1 is available on Channel 4 and series 2 will air from March 25.