I cannot stop. I don’t want to stop. I am eating Halloumi for breakfast lunch and dinner.
Yes, I was exaggerating for effect. Well spotted. Moving forward, the CHEESE!!
The above isn’t the exact cheese I ate as I can’t keep it on the plate long enough to take photographs of it. It’s the next best thing. Though it couldn’t be as tasty as my halloumi, it’s a generic internet photograph of the greatest cheese variety in the world. With cous cous. The cous cous is irrelevant, by the way. The champ is the cheese, sizzled on a griddle, changing texture from tough milky customer, to delectable, slightly squeaky when chomped into, moreish anytime delight. I delight in halloumi.
This post is purposely a little light hearted chit chat because, with everything I’ve been dealing with recently, I frankly need these teeny bits of pleasure. The pleasures are hard to come by so, when I spot myself taking comfort from something – anything – I try to hold that sense of contentment, keep the tigers at bay for a minute or an hour. Wouldn’t you?
Other contenders for bits of relief from my depressed brain are Love Island and Big Brother. I am loving how those programs give me something to watch that’s easy and looking into other people’s lives means I can take a break from surveying the carnage of my own. A handful of hospital admissions tends to de-normalise my life, and reality shows tend to give me a brief feeling of oh, there are other people having all sorts of emotions and surviving the days. As my family and friends are watching them too, there is a sense that it helps me socialise because I can join in the the post episode chatter and that then becomes a bit of a debating session: Charlie is losing the plot. Oh yeah, did you see what she said about his child? Yeah, and did you watch Ryan’s reaction…and on it goes.
Little things like a favourite type of food and a favourite program – it all adds up in the mental health world. These moments are precious as diamonds and have to be appreciated, if a person is going to have a chance in hell of reaching the stage were everyday is no longer a should I kill myself today? day.