Difficult Like Sunday Morning

I'm grateful that for the most part recently I've been able to handle my mental health issues. It's also roughly three years now since my last mental breakdown. There are nights where my depression rears its ugly head though and last night was one of them. Laying in bed for three hours, willing yourself to sleep while your brain hurls variations of "You're a fat useless cunt" at you isn't a great deal of fun. 

It was my dad's 67th birthday today, many happy returns to him. Obviously I don't really need to mention that here. I offered said returns in person, on the basis that we both continue to live under the same roof. Which if I recall correctly, was another theme that my brain persisted in returning to last night. We celebrated in the time honoured fashion of watching three football matches back to back, with a good win for Liverpool at Southampton and a couple of Desmonds (2-2) elsewhere.

I've got a challenging week coming up, with assessments in two of my accountancy modules. It struck me earlier that I've never failed an exam in my life. This would be a bad week to start. The second one in particular, I am some distance away from passing. But I have an all day revision session and two additional days of preparation for that, so fingers crossed.

EDIT (03/10): At the time of writing, my record of a 100% pass rate remains intact. Assuming that driving tests don't count. But unfortunately my brain still tells me I'm a fat useless cunt from time to time.

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