Dating when chronically ill mental health relationships

Eeeep so back on the dating scene … as a single chronically ill working mum of 2 boys ..

So the first thing: Have I got time to fit this other person in my life? …I hardly have time to shave the old arm pits …oh god don’t get me started on the secret garden.. there are so many bushes I’m not even sure it still exists.

So number one on the list: invest in a hedge trimmer just in case I get lucky .. I think I remember how that feels. Recently getting lucky means peeing on my own hehe. And there’s the not getting in my jim jams at 8pm and raiding the biscuit tin before the boys get the good ones… and what do you do on a date???

I cant get babysitters so how romantic would it be with my 17 year old snap chatting and my 7 year old trying to climb the table while knocking every drink flying … losing my temper on the first date is probably not a great look!

So a date at home it is … (bonus might be able to get in my jim jams then) no no nooo come on woman at least get to the third date before you bring the flannel jim jams out and the fluffy bed socks ..but at home that means I need to hide the washing, bleach out the bath and bribe the boys not to pee on the floor for just one evening (would be nice to not have my bathroom smell like a public bog for an evening, I’d even settle for a hour).

So no jim jams it is, the washing is done, no pee on the floor.. boys in there beds now please go asleep… from the bedroom I hear “mum I need a wee ” … so now there’s pee on the floor right next to the dumped pjs I’ve just lovingly put on him .. I get out the mop and dress his wriggling body once again..

Put him in his bed and suddenly hear…

“Mumma I need a poop ”

Sooo.. back in the bathroom I go…
Standing right in the pee on the floor but lucky for me the pjs are dumped right next to it slowing soaking it up .. but this time shining bright was a long line of skiddys clinging on to the side of the toilet like an octopus holding on for dear life …

Soooo… I get in my jim jams and fluffy socks, grab hold of the biscuit tin and get into bed.

F**k it I’ll start dating next year ..

From a single, fluffy, tired, bickie loving mum xxx

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Published in Anxiety / Depression, Bipolar Disorder, Chronic Illness, Depression, Illness / Disability
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