Something so British about us brits. Have a cup of tea, pull yourself together and whatever you do, don’t mention mental illness. In my early years I felt that was the general consensus. With WW2 still relatively recent, I can see why we were encouraged to carry on regardless. It did provide good work ethic and foundations for facing the big wide world and I don’t recall taking anything for granted (guess I did though). As for seeing an adult cry or show emotion, that certainly wasn’t the done thing and there was always someone far worse off and I had a lot to be grateful for.
Making a cup of tea is such a simple task which I had done without thinking for so many years. But one morning in June 2016 I came downstairs, walked into the kitchen and just stood looking at the kettle, tea, sugar and coffee containers. My brain could not process what I needed to do. I very quickly had to accept I needed help and in no time at all was registered with the Cornwall Mental Health Support Team. PTSD was diagnosis and a very scarey journey started but I came to realise it was not a taboo subject, and there was a great deal of understanding and support available. Princes Harry and William being open and honest about their grief and mental health really helped. Well, if the royal family can talk about mental health and grieving then how much easier for me to.
Time is the most precious gift anyone can give and its down to many friends and family giving me just that, that means I can again make myself a cup of tea.
I walked near Hartland Quay today and saw people sitting with pots of tea on table in front of them. I smiled and thanked God again for placing the right support around me, so I could be walking with Ken and smiling again. I am sure the tea is tasting better, just as the grass looks much greener and flowers brighter. Little by little the world around me is awakening again.