It's only a mug

The one problem I have with my depression is when the smallest thing can trigger me into a downwards spiral of feeling rubbish. Today it was a mug. I know, a mug. Let me begin with an anecdote from my time on a psychiatric ward in Gloucester…

The hospital in Gloucester had a very active occupational therapy department where patients could cook, go to the gym, and learn arts and crafts. One day I was invited to do mug painting and thought I would go along because I had nothing else to do. I decided to make a ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ themed mug and it turned out pretty good. It very quickly became my favourite mug and I used it a lot.

A few months back a friend accidentally dropped my TFiOS mug and broke the handle, he glued it back on but I’m too scared to use it as a mug again in case it breaks. So I decided to buy a couple of new mugs from my friend who makes them. I bought an M.E. mug and an Aspie (Asperger’s Syndrome) mug. The Aspie mug had my name on it and it very quickly became my favourite mug.

Today, whilst putting the washing up away, I noticed it was ruined. Whoever washed it up last must have been a little heavy handed with it and had scratched off most of the design. It wasn’t their fault; they weren’t to know that the design would come off so easily. I’m really gutted.

But the point is that something little like that can really throw me off, it’s put me in a really low mood this evening and that’s not okay. I don’t like the fact that these little things bother me, I don’t want them to, and I’m not consciously letting them bother me, they just do.

Still, it’s only a mug at the end of the day.
Alley-Cat

© Alice Daley 2015