The Painful Truth - of having a problem with mental health issues.

The Painful Truth  - of having a problem with mental health issues.

To classify that – there is no point in going to see a psychiatrist because most of them are insane from the rubbish they were taught by some fraud named Freud.

It is really easy to recognise that you are a tad unstable. You do odd things that most ‘normal’ people would not do.

For example -

You can not remember any examples you want to give.

Dementia? Lunacy? Or God forbid – the ultimate, multiple schizophrenia?

I often suffer from the above sentence. Only because I was so drunk it took me almost half an hour to find the right spelling for ‘schizophrenia’. You try it. It is not an easy word.

But – along with finding the right spelling, I also got some ‘rather’, interesting stuff about people who have it. I have suspicions…

I think, therefore I am – was the end of the search Descartes conducted for a statement that could not be doubted.

Because – I caught my, gentle, lovely, sweet, pretty, harmless, innocent, blue eyed blonde next-door neighbour -  Lady turn evil. Just like that!

Her personality changed. She became a frothing lunatic on Thursday night. I know this. I saw the transformation. It was horrible to witness.

(At this point, you should be clinging on to your alcohol glass filled with cheap ‘Soak ya Brain’, whisky waiting for the punch line. Tut tut. Should I bother?)

Thursday night is very special where I live. All important. You do NOT obey - maggots will infest your house and eat your mind. (Only in summer, mind you. At minus 5c, maggots need blankets.)

Why? It is the next day at 5.00 am when the dustbin men take away your rubbish. Not just like that. All very sophisticated here. Each bin registered to the occupant of a house has a chip in it. (This is no shit, Sherlock – this is Germany.)

Weight  = bills. And then… in the spotlights of my weaving car lights ( I was extremely intoxicated, but had to go to garage to refuel myself on some fucking expensive cheap rum,) I caught the mad woman.

She was stuffing a bag of debris in our bin!

I mean – this is crazy. I called the police. The dumb fucks locked me up for the night.

That is just because I am a Rhodesian.