Bipolar Bears and Assessment Nazi’s

BipolarPolarBear-40978 Because you have cyclic depression I will put you on this, it helps people like you with Bipolar…”

WAIT! WHAT?!?!?!

Bipolar? As in Manic Depressive? Bat shit crazy and thinking I am Jesus reincarnate?! No. Can’t be. I’m just having a depressive episode.

“Bipolar?” I asked the psychiatrist. “But I don’t get manic? And I generally am not this moody. I am usually pretty constant and happy.”

“Bipolar doesn’t mean you go from excitable and manic to depressive very quickly. You can go through periods over a few weeks then go back to normal for a while before going through another cycle.”

“But I don’t think I have ever had a manic cycle.”

“Depressive cycles are usually diagnosed first. Manic episodes that go undiagnosed are common. Have you gone through a few weeks where you are working on something and can’t switch off. Like a university project or planning a party?”

I thought back to when I was planning a fundraiser for a friend- constantly emailing, planning, buying stuff… the excitement I felt and the lack of sleep due to the ideas in my head.


“And did you have trouble concentrating, talked fast, were overly excited and were having trouble switching off?

I thought back to when I wanted to open a cafe with a friend in the next few months. Constant talking, jumping into things head on and being so excited with so many ideas.


“And did you have mood swings when people tried to slow you down or challenge your ideas?”

I thought back to the mood I was in when dad said that a cafe wasn’t a viable business in the current economy. Which I knew, but it still hurt to hear it.


“And do you present a different version of yourself in public as you do at home?”

I thought of my time at work, where I am constantly happy, excited, dancing, chatting, never angry and full of energy. Then I thought of my time at home where I have a short temper, slip on the housework, cook sausages on bread for dinner and lay in bed facebooking for hours.


“I need you to look at this questionnaire.”


Now I don’t have a copy of the ‘proper’ checklist, but I found one very similar here.

I did the online one this morning. I scored 32. According to the website, a score over 22 could indicate bipolar.


I have bipolar. It was a shock at first, but after reading about it, I don’t care.

I have to go on medication for a while. And I don’t care.

I have been eating stupid amounts of food, and my jeans don’t fit. And I don’t care.

I will be sick for a while. And I don’t care.


People will judge me for having bipolar.

And I don’t care.



Analogies, Assumptions and Placeboes.

I have had quite a few “Wait… what?!” moments this week.

Those moments that catch you off guard you aren’t exactly sure if you heard what you think you heard. They don’t happen to me often, as the little pistons fire in all cylinders non-stop in my brain and I can usually prepare myself mentally for most circumstances and responses. Hence the lack of sleep- imagining every possible scenario, conversation and sequence of events.

Lately though… wow. Holy constant brain fart. I’m running on one cylinder.

A friend at work (as much as he would like me to use that term loosely, I am actually quite fond of him) said to me over the weekend “oh, I read your blog yesterday”.

Wait… hold up. What?!

Panic set in. “Which one did you read? The really long one?” please don’t be the really long one, oh god, he thinks I’m crazy. It was so long, I bet it bored him!

“The one about 20 minute showers.”

Oh. “What did you think?” ohhhh god, he’s gonna think I am making it up. He knows I cry in the shower. Oh god, he knows I’m just another sappy, stupid girl that gets all emotional and stuff! I was trying to be all cool and happy and now I’m just a crying mess that stays in bed eating bacon all day!

“Wasn’t the worst I have ever read.”


That’s it!? No teasing about my parenting capabilities? (Or lack thereof?) No stinging comments about me being a sook? No? Nothing?

My relationship with this guy is built on non-stop hacking and insults. And I love it. My fear of people knowing what I am actually like at home still affects me, even though I am trying to be open about it. I still don’t know why I am publicising my issues to publicly, especially when it is acknowledged at work. I don’t want sympathy. I certainly don’t want attention from it. I guess I just want people to know why I can’t cope with 12 people lined up at the bar, glass all over the floor and not knowing which one to deal with first. And bursting out in tears while polishing cutlery because someone looked at me funny. I also want people to know that if I can go through it, as happy of a person as I usually am, that anyone is susceptible to it and others should be aware of changes in someones behaviour that may signal a mental illness. I just assume that everyone is going to think I am a hypochondriac with a social media addiction.

My other hold up, what? moment happened today at my follow up psychologist appointment.

For the past three weeks I have been taking 15mg Mirtazapine at night to help my depression and sleeplessness. I was going ok until earlier last week when I had my budget-killing phone call and spent 20 mins in that shower. Since then, I am back at square one. I am crying over everything, I am ALWAYS tired and exhausted. I miss running, but don’t give a rats ass that I am doing NO exercise. I lack motivation for anything, I am exhausted and I am void of emotion. And holy shit, I am ANGRY.

My mood swings had not improved. I want to get better. I want to be able to get out of bed in the morning without my eyes burning from exhaustion, even after 11 hours sleep. I want to take my kids to a birthday party without resenting them for making me get out of bed and turn off Grey’s Anatomy. And I want to enjoy things again and feel emotion. I am relying on logic, as I can’t trust my emotions. I know I love my job. I know I love spending time with my friends. I know I love doing things with my family, and I know I love to bake. But lately, I don’t feel it. I don’t feel joy when my daughter comes in to give me butterfly kisses, or feel a rush of adrenaline when the restaurant gets busy and I absolutely smash my job. I know I am good at my job, yet all I feel when I go to work is anxiety, nerves and uneasiness- like I am letting people down for not being able to remember things properly.

I know that lack of concentration and memory is a symptom of depression, but not being able to remember which steak belongs to Mary and which belongs to John between taking the food from the pass and dropping it off at the table is downright frustrating. It makes me so mad and makes me feel so pathetic and as though I am letting my employers down. But I KNOW I’m not. My feelings are just completely… well, fucked.

Anyway, back to the psychologist. Turns out he was also a psychiatrist. Oh, hallelujiah. I wanted to talk to him about increasing my mirtazapine. It was working for making me go to sleep (oh, it is marvellous stuff!) but I hadn’t noticed a change in my brain chemistry. I felt as though it was my fault for not getting better, because the drugs should be working by now. So when I mentioned that I didn’t feel as though I was getting better, I felt as though I was saying I was relying on drugs to get me better.

“Mirtazapine, especially at 15mg, will do nothing for your depression, it will be like drinking water”.

Wait, what?! I was taking a placebo?! No wonder I felt no different!

We talked for forty minutes, and we discussed my self confidence. Apparently, this is a big issue. I was told to remind myself that I AM good at my job. I AM keeping my family fed and cared for- I AM a good mum. I AM a good wife, and I CAN take care of finances. No matter what I feel at this moment, I have to KNOW that when I get better, I can do all this. Once your confidence starts to waiver, that’s when depression gets serious.

Knowing that I will get better soon, even without feeling it at this moment, is a huge benefit.

He gave me the following analogy, which will help all mums. Mental illness- depression, anxiety, PTSD etc is exactly that- an illness. And it is kind of contagious. My kids are affected by my lack of interest in them and my shortened temper, and therefore try to get my attention in other ways, which in turn makes my mood worse. My husband is affected when he wants to cuddle me and I am indifferent, then suddenly get shitty when he asks me about something. So they take on your stress.

“So imagine you have a broken ankle. The doctor tells you that you that you need to be on complete bedrest for three weeks. How would you feel?


“Why do you feel guilty? For breaking your leg?”

For not being there for my kids. Not being up to looking after them, playing with them, being happy with them. And guilty that my husband has to do everything for me and look after the kids himself. And for work, I would feel like I was letting them down by not being there.

“But your leg needs rest. If you get up and look after your kids too early you would be in pain, and set your recovery back by a few weeks or even months. It would be more painful for longer as it heals as you use it more and more. You would take this pain out on your kids and husband and the frustration would grow within yourself that you aren’t better yet, yes?”


“And you would regret not spending three weeks in bed and letting everyone deal without you. If your husband was injured you would look after him and wouldn’t want him feeling guilty, wouldn’t you?”

Yes, probably…

“So imagine your brain is your leg. Would you prefer to do the things that you need to do to get better for a shorter amount of time, or push through and prolong the pain?”


I think I should spend more Saturdays in bed. And turn down extra shifts. And let my kids play the tablet for hours on end while I go for a drive with my music turned up really loud. For no other reason than I NEED TO. And if you are struggling, figure out what you need to do, and do it. Without guilt.


“As for your mirtazapine, because you have cyclic depression I will put you on this, it helps people like you with Bipolar…”

WAIT! WHAT?!?!?!





20 minute showers and the Adult Time-Out Chair

I’m no expert on depression, anxiety or general parenting. Far from it. But I know what works for me.

Every mum craves it, and rarely gets it. Kids hate it, and dads/partners question it.

Time for YOURSELF.

Today my daughter has watched Colin Buchanan (2 times), Hi 5 (once) and sat on my lap for an hour while I change up my resume, shower and cry on the phone. Now usually I would feel guilty that I haven’t given her any educational toys, taken her outside or done crafts with her. But today, I don’t care. And some days, that’s exactly what you need.

Time for yourself. While we all dream that this could mean a day with no children, walking along the beach drinking wine and gossiping with your best friend and eating a gloriously large and expensive meal for dinner, unfortunately real life sometimes gets in the way. So, we improvise. Over the years I have adjusted exactly what is ‘my time’. Some days it is getting home from work and laying on the bed in uniform and reading through facebook for an hour before starting sausages on bread for dinner. Bugger cooking.

And my kids survive, well fed.

Some days it is sitting on the computer surfing through youtube and recipes while my kids play the xbox. Before they do their homework.

And my kids survive, still educated.

Some days it involves sitting at the park drinking Zarraffas iced tea talking with a friend while my kids get stuck on a swing and throw sticks at the dog, because they are out of my scope of vision.

And they survive, and can play independently.


Today, after a rather horrific morning of budget blowing phone calls, I needed time. I needed my favourite time. And although I only had Miss E at home, happily eating her breakfast and colouring at the table, I needed to be alone.

Helloooo, shower.

Oh, how a shower can change everything. It can help tears flow, it can heat aching and tired muscles and it can drown out the squealing of children chasing their father around the house with a fake gun. Showers are my favourite peace time, made even better by the fact that the door handle is too high for two out of three kids to reach. Even hubby has learnt that a swift “No!” as the door handle turns shouldn’t be taken personally. Its not that I don’t want to talk to him about it. I do. But I need a place to think. Its my adult time-out chair. Everyone needs one. A place to think without interruption.

Supernanny says that children shouldn’t be put in bed as punishment. Bed is for rest. Adults should do the same- choose a place to think. The ensuite floor was my favourite. Even sitting on the closed toilet while I budgeted or wrote out the next days schedule made it so much easier to sleep at night. Bed isn’t for thinking. Get it out of the way elsewhere.

I should feel mummy guilt over hiding from my children. I should feel guilty for taking 20 minute showers while the council enforces water restrictions. But I know my sanity is more important than the gerbera bushes in the main street being watered.

So that is my advice. Find your time out chair, and use it. Daily if you must. Your children will survive (and even if you don’t have kids, everyone needs some silence every now and then) and also find time for yourself.


Where do you spend your time thinking, and do you have a seperate place to relax and spend time on your own thoughts?

Why is depression so hard to share on Facebook?

Social media. Social MediaLove it or hate it, it is a great way to interact with friends, family and distant friends from highschool over a decade ago. It is also a platform for keyboard warriors to tear you down when you are vulnerable, even if it is for taking your child out in the middle of autumn in just a singlet and mismatched thongs. Who is to argue with a not-so-stylish toddler that throws a na-na when you want to put a coat on them? Us mums must pick our battles carefully.

Twitter seems to be my preferred platform for sharing a blog. Isn’t it strange how we are prepared to share our innermost thoughts and opinions with an unknown world, but are scared to announce our online presence to our closest friends on Facebook?

Opening up to friends and family is HARD. Everyone that has gone through depression knows this. Branded attention seekers, having our feelings dismissed (such as being told ‘you just need to have a big cry, you’ll be over it soon) and in some cases, attracting sympathy (yes, shock horror, those compliments you are receiving on your amazing ability to keep children alive and complete your studies are actually genuine!!) are all reasons we shy away from showing our real selves.

I made the choice 2 years ago when I moved to the city that I wanted to be happier. I had lived in the same town for over 15 years. Highschool drama was still floating around me, and I had as many toxic friends as I did good ones. So when I moved I was shocked when it didn’t happen straight away. I got a job in hospitality, and for the first two months I hated it. I finished every shift wanting to quit. Then one day I asked Kylie to go have coffee with me. From then on it was great- I started fitting in to most of the little ‘cliques’ that form in a large work environment and was invited out to afternoon coffees and nightly drinking sessions. I put out a bubbly, happy and aloof front, and therefore became the personality that I wanted to be. I get along with everyone and am quite happy to put myself out there and make a dick of myself. I don’t get cranky or angry, I’m calm and cool. Not many people have seen me lose my shit or yell. And I have no shame- I am quite ok with being the girl that licks spilt beer off the bar table and dancing with a plastic bag on my head.  I’m happy.

At home though…

Things got hard a few months in, as hubby was starting to tire of me working split shifts and leaving at dinner time. I started to feel the dreaded Mummy Guilt. I was still studying at this time, spending one day at Uni, another studying, and most of the rest of my time working and doing housework. Mr B was struggling at school and we were asked to spend more time with him on homeowrk and reading with him. He wanted me to do classroom help. Mr Z wanted to start swimming lessons, Miss E wanted to do gymnastics with Mummy. Hubby wanted to spend ‘more time together’ but had no idea to what that actually involved doing. (We ended up sitting on the couch watching the block on my nights off, even though I was thinking about all the cleaning I had to do before work the next day.) My inlaws were staying over a lot, and I wanted to go back to visit my parents.

It became too much, and I knew it. I knew it was coming, and I got on top of it before it became too overwhelming and I plunged back into depression. I went to the doctor and got a referral to a psychologist. But the thing that helped most was TELLING SOMEONE. In this case, I went to my boss. I cried in her office saying I couldn’t do split shifts anymore. I couldn’t handle being pulled in so many directions. Like anyone that is a bit of a perfectionist, I hated knowing I would be letting work down. But you know what? I didn’t. They moved me to a job where I was working a few days a week, 9:30 till 5pm. No more struggling! That ONE person I told, happened to change everything. It gave me time to do school help with Mr B, I was home to do reading with them and I could start enjoying cooking in the evening again.

This time I wasn’t so clever. I didn’t get on top of it. I let the guilt and the stress get to me and one day, I just broke.

Everything shut down. I ended up in the hospital begging for help. I wasn’t suicidal. I wasn’t a harm to myself or others. But I just could NOT stop crying! I was crying at work, again feeling like I was letting people down because I couldn’t do my job properly. My brain just didn’t want to work. It had worked so hard for so long that it just went “nope, f**k it, I’m out”. After the hospital visit, the mirtazapine started. I try to avoid anti-depressants, and they are not for everyone, but I could not see my financial and stress mess being over until Mid May. Way too long to do it all on my own.

There is a misconception about anti-depressants. People that are stressed out and suffering anxiety go to doctors and the doctors put them on anti-depressants. But they aren’t depressed so they don’t take them. They struggle through it. Don’t. Anti-depressants are anti-anxiety medications. Take them as a precautionary measure to ensure you don’t become so overwhelmed that you become depressed. Say your mood is a scale of one to ten. It is much easier for drugs to kick in and bring your mood up when you start at three than if you start at a rock-bottom zero.

I took the day off after my hospital visit, and two days later- even though the tears had subsided- I just knew I wasn’t going to be much help to my employers. I went to see one of my managers who told me to take more time off. Please, if you feel like you need a break, TAKE IT. It is more harmful to you if you continue working at a substandard level, because you then add the guilt of that. You know how your friends say “I wish you had have told me, I would have helped!”? Your employers- if they are human- should feel the same.

Let me explain how I felt. I googled, I read and I downloaded. I found so much info and had that good old Oprah “AH!” moments when I read these. Hopefully they will help you know that you are not alone, and your extreme tiredness and lack of care for the house are actual symptoms, and not you just being lazy.

(Taken from the Black Dog website)

SEVERE CONTINUOUS TIREDNESS. This is a very common symptom in depression, so that you feel tired and exhausted all the time.  Even if you sleep, you may wake up feeling as if you have not slept at all. All I wanted to do was stay in bed and rest. School starting term after the Easter break was even more difficult than usual.

INABILITY TO FEEL EMOTION. For many people, this is the most worrying symptom before they realise they are actually suffering from depressive illness.  You may find you cannot feel any of the normal positive emotions in life, so that you do not feel any pleasure or interest in the things you used to like and do. For me, the lack of interest in socialising and the inability to enjoy or be affected by music was a huge giveaway.

SADNESS OR UNHAPPINESS. Many people are very puzzled that they have these feelings, when they can see logically that they have many good things in their life and in their relationships.

TROUBLE THINKING AND REMEMBERING. This is almost an inevitable symptom in everybody with depressive illness.  You may find that you are more absent-minded than usual.people find that they have trouble with their work, as they cannot deal with the information they need to handle at work.  Things may get to the stage where you cannot read magazines or books, as you very quickly lose track of what you have already read.

This one was a huge factor for me. I cannot actually function doing two things at once. If I am concentrating on something, I can NOT process someone talking to me. It throws me off both tasks. I can’t put an order in or read a docket if someone is talking to me. Thankfully, I know- and it is proven- that this disappears once the depression has passed.

REDUCED ABILITY TO COPE. Depression makes everything ten times, or a hundred times, the effort it used to be.  Accordingly, people with depression very quickly find they cannot cope with their previous duties and responsibilities. Depression makes everything too much of an effort, and the exhausted feeling that people have during depression makes this worse. Things can be done, but with almost superhuman effort at times, like trying to function with a broken leg.

INABILITY TO ENJOY THINGS:  depression takes away the enjoyment of the normal activities of life, so that things you used to enjoy or have a great interest in will  no longer appeal to you.  You may find you have given up your previous hobbies or pastimes, and feel that there is absolutely nothing in life you could think of doing which would be enjoyable.

For me, this is running. I MISS running. I am trying to train for a half marathon in July. I was up to 15km, but in the last two weeks I have accumulated an entire 1km in the running shoes.

AVOIDING FRIENDS. Many people with depression find everything such an effort, that they wish to avoid contact even with their friends.  You may find that you do not return telephone calls, emails or SMS messages, or make excuses not to meet your friends. I have a few friends that can attest to the change in my social and phone habits.

ANXIETY AND TENSION. It is almost inevitable that people who are depressed will also be very anxious, nervous or uptight.  This may manifest itself in a whole range of physical aches and pains, as well as a continuously uncomfortable, frightened feeling, as if you were about to do an important exam or have an important interview. Anxiety produces lots of physical symptoms, such as headaches, pains in the face and jaws, chest pains, stomach pains and indigestion, and bowel pains.  Some people with anxiety find they clench their jaws during the day, or grind their teeth at night. My physical symptom is usually a feeling of nervousness- increased heart rate, fuzziness in my ears, prickling and tingling eyes and butterflies in my stomach.

PERSONALITY CHANGE. Many people feel something terrible has happened to their personality, so they are no longer able to be confident, extrovert or friendly.

IRRITABILITY AND ANGER:when feeling terrible, it is almost inevitable that we will snap at other people.  While we may be able to keep up a facade for people who do not know us very well, it is too much of an effort to do this all the time, so depressed people find themselves snapping and being angry at those closest to them, often feeling very guilty afterwards.

MULTIPLE PHYSICAL SYMPTOMS. Many people who have depression wish that doctors and others would understand how physically terrible they feel.  It is like having a very bad flu’, so that everything hurts, everything is exhausting, and it does require a huge effort to get out of bed and do the normal things of life.

Again, with running or indoor netball, I just can’t do it. I miss being able to play an entire game of netball as centre and now struggling to play a full game as GK. I ran one kilometer the other night and felt worse than the night I ran 15. I have no energy, and my body aches when I do exercise.

So. Back to social media. I am still in two minds about posting. I am afraid of nobody reading it and knowing how I really feel. I am afraid of people actually reading it and knowing how I really feel. I am afraid that people think I wrote to much, and I am afraid that someone will think that I am a hypochondriac and exaggerating my depression. I am afraid that there are people out there reading the wrong information about depression and not seeking help, choosing to keep struggling. I have friends that know all of this about me already who will not judge, but I am afraid that my workmates will read this and change their opinion of me.

I don’t know what I want from this blog. I don’t read blogs myself. I don’t keep a diary and don’t necessarily find this therapeutic. I don’t know how many people will read this and take something from it.  I think that is why I am afraid to post it on Facebook- lack of control of what other people will do with this information I have poured out for them. But I am going to do it anyway (despite the pit in the depths of my stomach and the fear of my parents reading it) and hope that at least one person reads it and takes something from it.

I still am the girl that dances stupidly around the bar at work. I am still the mum that walks around town with facepaint on and dyes her hair bright, bright red. I am still outgoing and happy.

Just not at the moment.



Starting from scratch.

I have diagnosed myself. There seems to be no medical name for what I am going through- my children are too old to be post-natal depression, and plain old depression just doesn’t cut it. Anxiety- well, I struggle with that everyday, so that doesn’t seem right either. So I think I have PTSAD.

Not Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Even though my three births were somewhat traumatic, I don’t think that’s quite appropriate.

No, PTSAD is Post Toddler Stress and Anxiety Disorder.

I am certain there are other mums out there that go “YES! That’s me!”. Those with toddlers and school age children that are just finding no joy in anything at the moment, and treasure those rare days where dad or grandma have taken the kids out of the house (hopefully a day where the house is clean, there is an ample stash of chocolate- or in my case, bacon- and the new episode of Revenge is available on Vodly). Mums that feel so guilty that you are in bed at 10am reading NW while their toddler sits on the couch with a bag of Doritos watching ABC2 for two hours. This is a perfectly ok method of parenting when done occasionally, but when you have a stash of trashy magazines 6 inches high and your child is pooing orange, it might be time to realise there may be something more to your extreme tiredness.

Unfortunately, I missed the telltale signs that my anxiety was starting to become too much. After struggling through post-natal depression after Mr B, and having it again while pregnant with Miss E, I should know the signs of the oncoming cry-fest, shouldn’t i? Silly me decided to push through it. Dumb move.

I think the car registration bill did it. I blame the Dept. of Transport.

For the past few months, an accumulation of.. well, to put it blunty, shit… has been piling up. Psychologists told me that your mind is like a bathtub. Some people have a bucket, others have a bathtub- the size and amount of stress you can handle varies between people. You can keep stuff pouring in, but at some stage that bastard is going to overflow and your mind will just shut off the tap. This is my trigger point for a breakdown. My mind does shut off. I lose concentration, get violent moodswings and lose all emotion, energy and motivation. Most people refer to this as a mental breakdown, but doctors call it a major depressive episode. Both sound horrible.

I think it started in January, where our amazing aupair left to go back to England after filling in for an aupair we had moved on due to various reasons. Now I want to get something straight- we are NOT a rich or well of family. But aupairing is a much better arrangement than alternating between daycare for Miss E and babysitters for the 2 Mr’s after school. We get help around the house, and consistent care of our children. I don’t have to take a day off work if the child is sick and I have someone to drink bad wine and watch crap tv with in the evenings. If you have a spare room in your house, I would recommend an international aupair. Much cheaper than daycare.

So the aupair left, and I cut down to two days a week at work. I had to do all the housework myself (yes, shock horror, I got spoilt having an aupair- kudos to your mums reading this thinking “So what? I do that all myself everyday!” and a huge kiss on the feet of single mums- holy shit I don’t know how you do it!) and with such a huge house I started to get overwhelmed. Thankfully my husband is very helpful and well tamed, and puts up with my shrieking over the doritos on the floor. Otherwise I would be a single mum too.

Then the bills started. Back to school. Ohhhh how I dread this moment. Anyone with kids in private school gets a little lump in the throat and feeling of absolute dread when that envelope with the school insignia arrives. Then the gymnastics fees. Oh joy! Another annual membership fee on top of the quarterly fees. More money handed out. Then the electricity bill (thank the lord for payment extensions!). Credit card annual fees, rent increases and new computer equipment then followed. I was on top of it. We didn’t have much cash left at the end of the week, but everything got paid.

That was until hubbys work said “No more overtime.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Goodbye, $350 a week. The breaths started getting shorter and anxiety started building up every time I did the weekly budget. So I picked up extra shifts at work. Then the fights started with the hubby as he didn’t like me working nights. So I stopped working nights. Then we had another bill. So I worked a Sunday, and a Wednesday night. Another guilt trip (from myself, mostly) for not being home to cook dinner and have ‘family time’.

Ever get that feeling that no matter WHAT you do, it is always wrong? Yeah you do.

Hubby changed jobs in April. He is much happier, working from 7:30 till 4 now as opposed to 6 till 6. It was supposed to be more money. A week in, they cut overtime too.

Then the rego bill arrived. Not only did the bathtub overflow, but I flooded the house.