I was thinking about blogging about how shit my day has been.

Who would want to read that?

You would so I’ll carry on.

Getting a child out the house in the morning has got to be one of the hardest things in the world.

Even if I put a pile of chocolate and Spiderman outside our front door #Babybernie would smell the “we need to leave the house now” vibe and turn into a creature held by a magnetic force that screamed when taken too far away from it’s resting place.

Until the leaving the house thing happens he is great. Getting out the door?

“Nope – I’m not doing that. Leaving the house is a premium feature – you need to pay for it.”

We got him out the door.

We are all running late and my own objectionable little child – I mean me, myself and I – is starting to win in my head. I quell the desire to throw all my toys out my pram.

Mostly because I am not in a pram and we are walking down the road, if I stop and have a tantrum as well #Supercoolwife will pick up a brick and blugen both of us to death.

Losing my temper is crap full stop, losing my temper at a 3 year old on his way to nursery for being late is pointless and serves no one.

“He’s got to learn” might be true, shouting at him is crap.

He knows this and when I shout at him he shouts back, imagine my surprise.

Of course this is worth a joke but it is very bloody important to me.

Confusion and Anger

I have spent a large chunk of my life in confusion, anger and defence.

When people shouted at me it only served to reinforce these things.

When people asked me questions it made me think and change my behaviour, it would have been nice if more people had asked me questions.

If you go to work as an adult and people shout at you how do you feel?

If you go to work and people ask you decent questions and your opinion how do you feel?

I am no angel.

In fact I am a total arsehole.

My Dad is a really good guy, he gets frustrated and confused when you shout at him so that was my main weapon of choice as I was growing up.

Maybe growing up is not quite the right term, anyway – ask anyone in my family, I was a professional arsehole when I was a teenager.

Then “all my stuff happened” and I disappeared inside a bar with an open tab for a decade.

Then decided to upgrade to a clear head for the following decade and made a point of mellowing out – sometimes at gunpoint by #Supercoolwife and other times at the recommendation of my doctor or therapist.

So over the last ten years I have worked out my problem is getting really confused and frustrated, this is part fueled by dyslexia and part fueled by being a selfish arsehole.

I have set up a daily practice that helps me work on both of these, not shouting at my Dad has done wonders to my relationship with him I love the time we spend together and have really got to know him in a magical way.

Fifteen years ago when my Mum died I did not know what to do with him, he did not know what to do with himself or me.

At the time someone asked me am I afraid of turning out like him. I am ashamed to say I was, although these days I am delighted that I am turning out like him.

When you hear me making up crap rhymes and laughing to myself – that is him. When I comment on the room temperature being too hot or too cold – the opposite of what everyone else is feeling – that is him.

Which brings me to today and this blog.

I have been in a shit mood all day, part of this is that I have not had any medication for four days, the surgery said my repeat prescription was not a repeat prescription, then decided it was.

I do wonder how much of the antidepressant is a placebo and how much is direct chemical intervention, I felt fine for the first few days.

In fact it was the first time since I crashed at the end of 2012 that I have not panicked about running out of drugs, then this morning I started to feel really screwed in the head.

The internet broke so my amazing battle plan for the day was foiled, I tethered to my phone and that worked ok for a bit until the other 10 vodafone users around me did the same and we all ground to a slow crawl.

I gave up and shot home to try and work from there.

The kryptonite had started to set in.

Ever since Argentina in January I have been feeling stronger and stronger, I have enjoyed being with people again and thinking faster.

But now I was looking at the tube floor in the middle of the day and yawning, outside the sun was shining and inside on the web my blog traffic had gone up again yet I was sliding into emotional quicksand.

I got off the tube and picked up the phone to make myself take some action, one thing I have learnt that being in motion and staying in motion is the way not to get slain by the depression dragon.

I got home and got on the phone again, #supercoolwife had organised some gorgeous “Bulletproof lunch” – this will make me feel better I thought.

I ate it and felt exhausted.

A few days ago the same meal of meat and kale had energised me.

A did a couple more things and then had a nap. I could not stay awake any longer – I’d crashed.

Other than a Sunday ‘siesta’ which I LOVE napping on weekdays has become a thing of the past.

If I nap these days it is on purpose to recharge for the evening or to think about something, since 2012 sleeping in the afternoon had been because I could not bear to be awake or had been falling asleep standing up.

I woke up, picked up #babybernie from nursery and then went to pick up my medication that was now ready, nearly a week late.

I have got more done in the last couple of hours than I have all day.

Does it really kick back in that fast or is my head tricking me?

I started trying to write this post in 750words.com this morning and nothing would stick, what you are reading now has taken 24 minutes not including spelling and grammer – which you would realise by now I did not do anyway.

Tomorrow I am going to launch a killer content project for this blog.

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