How are you Today?

That bloody question that anyone with mental health issues hates.

Mmmm let me see. Well I was fine until I woke up. I was having a rather lovely dream about Jason Fox. Cool SAS or SBS whatever commando type action hero.

I Googled him. Followed him on Facebook. And started my day.

That’s when it all went down hill.

Living with a broken brain is tough. In my case it’s Bi-Polar 2. The wonderful label that’s just crazy enough to get you on the good meds. But not quite bad enough to get you a hospital bed… yet.

So how do I feel today. Fuck Off.

Take diazepam. Ask again in 20 minutes.

You can still Fuck Off.

My smallest child, who’s actually huge. Screamed his way through his swimming lesson. Fuck Off.

My husband ‘helped me’ by putting washing on. Fuck Off.

The fucking mole in my fucking garden still hasn’t been caught by the humane traps that I’ve been chasing him round the garden with for the past week. Fuck Off.

The dog keeps stealing food. Fuck Off.

The large irritating child has been saying ‘mummy mummy mummy’ for the past hour. Fuck Off.

So how do I feel today. Fuck Off why do you care? And stop fucking asking me if I’m ok!

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