Exploring Mt. Everest in slippers.

An infusion of camillia sinensis leaves in boiling water.  Brewed until the water is deeply coloured.  Strained into individual servings.  The tincture can be sweetened with honey or sugar.  Bitterness can be reduced by milk, cream, or lemon.  Can improve alertness, memory, and mental acuity.  Can ease headaches, and stimulate low blood pressure.  Brings a reduction in the risk of developing certain cancers.  Also known to settle vomiting and diarrhea. Tea.  The ultimate witch's brew. I've always drunk tea.  I remember being included whenever Mum would make one, from as young as six or seven.  It would come in a beige tupperware tumbler, half full; milky and sweet.  As I got tall enough to reach the kettle, making the tea became my job.  My eight (or nine) year old hands struggling to lift the full teapot (a pastel toned cream and orange monstrosity), and pour the tea into the row of cups at the edge of the kit...

I've had a good few weeks, I even missed last week's blog (sorry about that).  I've been in an almost normal mood, and enjoying it.  The cotton wool days came back this weekend.  They're not terrible, they don't bring tears, or suicidal thoughts.  Cotton wool days bring numbness.  A feeling of being insulated from everything.  People talk, and I hear them, but with a weird kind of time lag; like news correspondents reporting live from somewhere overseas.  Cotton wool days feel like I'm wrapped in a filter that dilutes everything.  Flavours are muted, emotions are faint, and colours are dulled.  Do you remember the first time you noticed the difference in sound when you duck your head underwater?  It's a bit like that.  An echoing kind of hollowness.  I'm sure I appear a bit 'out of it' during my cotton wool days, and in some ways, I am.  Because while the cotton wool stops the outside coming in, it also fills m...

In the rather fabulous word of Blackadder: "Wibble".  Choosing to be mad.  Because reality is scary.   This was a really good week.  I slept almost normally.  I smiled and laughed.  I rearranged furniture.  Showered.  Deliberately left the house - on my own - for no other reason than I wanted to.  Yup.  A good week. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm getting somewhere.  The scary part; is that getting somewhere, means dealing with things outside of my bubble.  This week has also seen a broadening of awareness.  I've begun to think about further away than tomorrow, or this weekend.  Am I ready to think about leaving the secure bosom of family?  Can I trust myself to be out there alone again?  The 'what if's' are looming.  They're scary.  Because I know how quickly and easily a bad few days can turn into a cavernous depth I can't get out of alone.  All of which mea...

No, really. Because I really don't know what you think, or what you mean, or what you intend; I only know what I  think you think, or mean, or intend.  Everything is filtered through my  eyes, my  ears, my  understanding.  Even when you try to explain it to me, I hear it through my  mental filters. My filters need some serious refurbishment.  I've started working on them, and I've had experts help me with some of the ways I could make improvements.  We all know my filters will always be damaged, and that even after I get them as clear as I can, I'll still need to be aware that they add a lot of rubbish to things. Like a dirty diesel coughing it's way through spotless countryside, I can see that my broken filters  have affected my relationships.  It means I don't see the same issues the same way, and I'm only just learning how to look properly.  It means accepting I have reasons to naturally distrust everyone, and ...