Got to that point in life where I feel like being reckless. Is it because I am approaching middle-age with the feeling that I am totally unhappy with my life? Or is it because I really need that tattoo or sports cars neither of which I can afford.

I have a hormone imbalance which has left me entirely knackered on a permanent basis. I am now the size of a small province and I have the mood of bad temper ill-advised old goat. I am not even happy with my own company never mind trying to make idle chatter or pleasant chitty-chat around a dinner table.

Horribly depressive I would be a nightmare to live with. Having a friend to stay last week was a both painful experience for him and myself. I am totally to blame. He was pleasant full of energy and ideas. I was morose and grouchy.

My planned visit to the doctors today ended in him asking for blood tests. How many more fucking tests do I need before someone tells me I am true depressive? Sick of tests and therapy. Peoples comments and suggestions. What I truly need is … Actually I don’t even know what I want anymore myself. Should I be reckless or stick to a routine of three glasses of wine and a sleeping tablet?


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the barefoot tree

Still grumpy

Gari Wellingham

UK-based musical theatre geek previously living with a brain tumour!

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