Good Morning London

So this is the bit I don't get.
The bit that annoys me like hell about this whole "I am depressed" game. 
So, last night I am tired and go to bed really early. I sleep like a baby that has over dosed on Calpol and then wake up today in a really shit mood.
The pain, struggle, drama to get going!!
I am out the house and now standing at Stratford and nearly feel ok.
I walked and walked, felt dizzy, lost, like going back to bed and hated myself for the most stupid things.

I wondered why it is so hard to ask for help?

The on the way to the station an old Asian man was trying to push his broken down car off the road. The car was blocking traffic. The car was one of those huge Rennalt Espace things, the man was small, gentle with a white whispy beard, he smelt of Cumin in a warm and comforting way.

I asked him is wanted help - not that I expected him to say "no, fuck off" - he knew I had come to his rescue! He was also very polite when I struggled moving his car, I have not pushed a car for years and was hardly the hero that I had advertised myself at on first contact. 

Even more amazing is that yesterday I was actually thinking that I had not seen someone push a car for a very long time and here I was digging my feet into the tarmac of the road as another driver flashed his lights and hooted (just on case we had not realised we were blocking the road!)

So we got the car off the road, the man was overjoyed and I felt better. It was good to help him but I think it was the gut busting strain of pushing the car that shifted my mood - my whole metabolism was quickly restructured as I pushed. 

In fact I thought quietly to myself I am glad for the opportunity to help him, it kicked my head out my arse.

Right - time to kick some butt! I am off to 90mainyard for some bagels and blog scheming :/)

Have a great day :-)