I didn't want to go to Church on Sunday morning.
When I'm happy, well and have had a great week - it's hard to leave the warmth of our bed and home and give up that precious time with Alun where we can talk and cuddle to instead go out into the world and go to Church.
So going when I am gripping onto life with shaking hands and feel severely depressed - well, it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
I think that's what it's like with depression - everything - EVERYTHING - becomes tremendously difficult. Brushing teeth - too hard. I've not brushed mine in days. My extensions are matted, sticky and weird because I've not showered or washed my hair in days. I smell. I look God-awful.
I DON'T CARE.
Anyway.
Back to Sunday.
I'd decided to just stay home. Alun was asleep and I found such a peace and such a comfort in watching his handsome face resting. His chest moving up and down with each breath. I know it sounds really corny and daggy to you...but I truly believe my husband is absolutely gorgeous. I love watching him - whether he's awake or asleep...I love looking at him.
But I couldn't lay still.
Something deep inside - some tiny spark was urging me on.
Go.
*deep sigh*
FFS.
I got up and didn't shower or brush teeth...I dragged my shaking fingers through my ragged, horrible hair and hair extensions and put a beanie over it all.
Good enough, I reckon.
I put on jeans, a jumper and a 'fake leather' coat. I found 'fake leather' gloves that matched. I don't remember buying them but i've had them for as long as I can remember. I don't think I've worn them since 2009. They're too big for my tiny hands, but they keep them warm so I put them on.
Because I didn't spend time on my appearance, I was ready on time for the 9:14am bus (I always miss it - too busy shaping/shading my eyebrows usually) and was at Church 5 minutes before the 9:30am service.
Well, well, well.
It was so cold - that for once, I decided I'd go into the Church cafe before the service and make myself a cup of tea.
As I was stirring sugar into the warm, dark liquid...I saw a lady in a wheelchair pull up beside me.
"It's so cold today - so glad we have free cups of tea" I said.
I wasn't expecting that. I don't like talking to anyone really when I'm depressed.
Huh.
"Yeah it's a bit nippy" she replied. She was an older lady - slightly overweight like me and in an electric wheelchair. She was steering it with one hand and the other looked like more of a claw than a hand. I don't think she was able to use it.
Compassion filled my heart.
"Want me to make you a cup?" I offered
"yes please" she beamed up at me. Her smile was so warm and friendly. I got the feeling she used it a lot.
So I spent 5 minutes mindfully making a cup of tea for a stranger in a wheelchair.
I say "mindfully" because that's also something about depression - everything becomes really focused.
Small things - become so large and loom so big...it's frightening a lot of the time.
Today, thankfully - it was ok.
I felt the plastic stirrer in my hand and wondered at how light it was. How many grams did this weigh?
"Did you want Earl Grey or the normal type?" I asked
"Earl Grey please"
Ok.
I tore open the paper packet and wondered at how companies are able to coat paper packets with shiny, plastic-ey film but you can still tear it with the ease of a few fingers.
When I added hot water from the urn to the paper cup with the tea in it, I liked how the amber liquid filled the once-clear.
The cup in my hand heated so quickly.
It was so hot. Too hot.
"I'll double-cup this thing so you don't burn your hand, ok?"
"Ooo. very nice of you. Thank you"
"Do you have a lot of milk? I don't want to do it wrong - I'll pour it in slowly and you just say when to stop"
"I have a lot of milk" the lady in the wheelchair said.
She was NOT kidding.
I think the cup had more milk in it than tea - it was at least 70% milk.
"I like it nice and lukewarm and very milky" the lady affirmed
At this rate, it would be stone cold and ALL milk.
My goodness.
I could hear the service beginning and the music flowed out of the Church hall and into the cafe.
And it was the weirdest thing...but I felt better. For once in a very long time of months of misery and pain...I had a soft, light feeling in my heart.
When I'm happy, well and have had a great week - it's hard to leave the warmth of our bed and home and give up that precious time with Alun where we can talk and cuddle to instead go out into the world and go to Church.
So going when I am gripping onto life with shaking hands and feel severely depressed - well, it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
I think that's what it's like with depression - everything - EVERYTHING - becomes tremendously difficult. Brushing teeth - too hard. I've not brushed mine in days. My extensions are matted, sticky and weird because I've not showered or washed my hair in days. I smell. I look God-awful.
I DON'T CARE.
Anyway.
Back to Sunday.
I'd decided to just stay home. Alun was asleep and I found such a peace and such a comfort in watching his handsome face resting. His chest moving up and down with each breath. I know it sounds really corny and daggy to you...but I truly believe my husband is absolutely gorgeous. I love watching him - whether he's awake or asleep...I love looking at him.
But I couldn't lay still.
Something deep inside - some tiny spark was urging me on.
Go.
*deep sigh*
FFS.
I got up and didn't shower or brush teeth...I dragged my shaking fingers through my ragged, horrible hair and hair extensions and put a beanie over it all.
Good enough, I reckon.
I put on jeans, a jumper and a 'fake leather' coat. I found 'fake leather' gloves that matched. I don't remember buying them but i've had them for as long as I can remember. I don't think I've worn them since 2009. They're too big for my tiny hands, but they keep them warm so I put them on.
Because I didn't spend time on my appearance, I was ready on time for the 9:14am bus (I always miss it - too busy shaping/shading my eyebrows usually) and was at Church 5 minutes before the 9:30am service.
Well, well, well.
It was so cold - that for once, I decided I'd go into the Church cafe before the service and make myself a cup of tea.
As I was stirring sugar into the warm, dark liquid...I saw a lady in a wheelchair pull up beside me.
"It's so cold today - so glad we have free cups of tea" I said.
I wasn't expecting that. I don't like talking to anyone really when I'm depressed.
Huh.
"Yeah it's a bit nippy" she replied. She was an older lady - slightly overweight like me and in an electric wheelchair. She was steering it with one hand and the other looked like more of a claw than a hand. I don't think she was able to use it.
Compassion filled my heart.
"Want me to make you a cup?" I offered
"yes please" she beamed up at me. Her smile was so warm and friendly. I got the feeling she used it a lot.
So I spent 5 minutes mindfully making a cup of tea for a stranger in a wheelchair.
I say "mindfully" because that's also something about depression - everything becomes really focused.
Small things - become so large and loom so big...it's frightening a lot of the time.
Today, thankfully - it was ok.
I felt the plastic stirrer in my hand and wondered at how light it was. How many grams did this weigh?
"Did you want Earl Grey or the normal type?" I asked
"Earl Grey please"
Ok.
I tore open the paper packet and wondered at how companies are able to coat paper packets with shiny, plastic-ey film but you can still tear it with the ease of a few fingers.
When I added hot water from the urn to the paper cup with the tea in it, I liked how the amber liquid filled the once-clear.
The cup in my hand heated so quickly.
It was so hot. Too hot.
"I'll double-cup this thing so you don't burn your hand, ok?"
"Ooo. very nice of you. Thank you"
"Do you have a lot of milk? I don't want to do it wrong - I'll pour it in slowly and you just say when to stop"
"I have a lot of milk" the lady in the wheelchair said.
She was NOT kidding.
I think the cup had more milk in it than tea - it was at least 70% milk.
"I like it nice and lukewarm and very milky" the lady affirmed
At this rate, it would be stone cold and ALL milk.
My goodness.
I could hear the service beginning and the music flowed out of the Church hall and into the cafe.
And it was the weirdest thing...but I felt better. For once in a very long time of months of misery and pain...I had a soft, light feeling in my heart.
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