Friday, 19 June 2015

Tea Gate.

To me, a teabag is a teabag.
Inoffensive, everyday and an ever present member of the kitchen canister.
This week, I've learned differently.

To someone with depression you can do a hundred nice things, yet they will still focus on the one negative.
And that seemingly insignificant negative suddenly gains enormous importance.

This week, it was the turn of the humble teabag.

Said person was out of caffeine and twitchy.
Tesco was ordered and duly delivered.
Unfortunately, PGTips had been replaced with Typhoo.
And Typhoo was not allowed house room, let alone residence on the kitchen windowsill. 
When discovered, the offending teabags were eyed in the way a cat would eye an intruder on their patch.
Hackles up, eyes wary - I had to step in and remove the offensive article.

Now, this is someone who can't go an hour without a caffeine fix.
Tea, coffee - the stronger the better.
And I certainly don't recall said person being offered tea whilst out and quizzing the tea maker on the brand of their teabag.

Depression is a truly terrible illness.
Small things magnify, gaining huge significance.
Disruption to routine insurmountable, anxiety high.
And tough to watch.