Since I turned 40 this month, I thought I should probably say something here to mark still being alive at 40. Fuck you, Dom Passantino! <\/em>Yes, I still remember you taking bets on me topping myself for a Death List. When I die, let them stuff me with tattered tenners and taxidermy me as a lamp to light your lonely room.<\/p>\n The other milestone is that this blog turned 18. I am now old enough to be my blog\u2019s mother. A scary thought. No wonder my da was a raging alcoholic.<\/p>\n 40 has been lovely so far. On my actual birthday, I had the morning off, then went to pick up my 4 year old who was desperate to give me his present (Milk Tray), most of which he ate (he gave me all the heart shaped ones, though). I got lots of lovely presents from my family, handwritten and hand-scribbled cards from the kids and hand crafted, hand-photoshopped, hang it in a gallery with big censored bars over the cheeky bits card from Robert. I had a very nice dinner, a cake whose candles we lit multiple times so everyone got a turn, played in the playground for a bit, then was going to have a bath with some of the fancy Lush soap I got but was knackered by 10pm so went to sleep. At the weekend, I did a boat tour with my sister (BOATS!) and then I went out and did karaoke while necking back tins of gin, then drank booze from glasses the size of buckets in a pub on the Falls Road while deftly avoiding being dragged onto the dancefloor by a man who was so jittery he was either on something or he had fleas up his arsehole.<\/p>\n Do I have any sage lessons for 40? <\/p>\n I haven\u2019t written in ages. Not just here, anywhere. As you\u2019ve probably gathered from the few posts I have written, the past few years of my life have featured more deaths than Final Destination. Coping with grief topped with grief, as well as trying to raise two children and hold down a job, hasn\u2019t left me much brainspace or actual time to do much else. I feel a bit like I have been brain damaged to be honest. I think I\u2019ve gotten into the habit of so reflexively suppressing grief intrusive thoughts that it\u2019s extended into lots of other thoughts too. Maybe one day if I can ever afford it, I\u2019ll get therapy. I can\u2019t get grief counselling because of my diagnosis of a SMI (shitty mental illness, or severe mental illness), and have been turned away when I\u2019ve tried. Doesn\u2019t really feel too fair does it! Your mental illness can make grief more complex so you\u2019re too complex for our grief counselling. <\/p>\n When I do have free time, I prefer to anaesthetise myself with Frasier episodes rather than do anything more productive. I feel like now as a 40 year old I should get a hobby or try to have more of a life. I also feel like I don\u2019t really want to do anything but anaesthetise myself in whatever comfort there is. Comfort is underrated.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/thesecretlifeofamanicdepressive.wordpress.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/09\/family.jpg\")
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