I realise that a loudmouth yoke like me telling all and sundry this kind of thing is the height of unmitigated cheek, but sure lookit, who else is best placed to offer this wisdom? YOURS TRULY, THAT’S WHO.
Oh, how I love me some tears. You can’t beat them when push comes to shove, and The Feels come a-knocking at the back of the old eyeballs. They don’t love me though. But if I can enjoy a good cry, I can have hope.
Speaking as someone who falls in and out of The Bunker mental health-wise fairly regularly, I’m pretty much a top-class expert when it comes to focusing on The Little Things to give my poor beleaguered mind a brief respite from firing on all cylinders in Crisis Mode. A crisis, I might add, which never fully materialises. The joys of Generalised Anxiety Disorder.
