Pumpkin Latte and I

I’m sitting in a cafe on the high street today. I’ve just drunk a pumpkin spiced soy latte. I now want another; I have the disease of more. I think I could happily drink two more, but that would cost £9.00. If I did that everyday it would come to £280 a month, which is a lot of money. Once I do something for one day, I want to know that I can repeat the experience every day, otherwise I can’t really be bothered. I want pumpkin spiced latte forever…it’s me and pumpkin latte against the world! Then I’ll get a tattoo.

I’ve been checking out the Toast website today (women’s clothing). I’m not sure why I enjoy this activity because Toast is very much out of my league. I love the colours, I love the designs. Recently I did buy myself some tee-shirts in Toast. Three. They are expensive, but such a joy to wear. But now, I want more.

I also want socks. I have some older Toast socks that I put on this morning. These are such nice socks, I muttered to myself. They fit inside my new SuperGa’s. So, sitting here in the cafe, I looked to see if they still make this Herringbone variety of socks that I now love so much all of a sudden. They do. They also have Falke socks. Now I want ten pairs of socks, because obviously one or two pairs would be an exercise in futility.

Is this a secret desire to spend money? To leave myself penniless once again? If I got a job, I could buy things I want to buy.

I do have a job. At the mental health drop-in. I like this job. I like the people. I like sitting around chatting. I like talking about art. Shooting the breeze at the mental health drop-in. But there is one major problem with this job — they expect me to work five hours on the trot. Five hours on the trot. At a mental health drop-in.

That is just too much. Even for me. Because of this, I can’t see a future for myself at the mental health drop-in.

A friend the other day said to me: It takes a certain person to do that kind of job. I really had to think about that. That kind of job. I really don’t consider the people that use the drop in to be any different from anyone else. Maybe just a bit different.

Actually, I kind of admire these people. They have the humility to drop-in to this space for company and support. That takes a strength I certainly never had. Just the idea of popping along to a mental health drop in! I would rather sit alone feeling bored and lonely. So why do I want to work there?

I remember that my previous partner told me that he had used the drop-in. I was really impressed. I loved him even more because he used the drop-in.

I spend a lot of time wondering what, if anything, makes me different from the ‘Service Users’ who drop-in. I wondered this out loud recently in therapy, and with my Care-Co-Ordinator (who thinks I am lucky not to be in prison). Both of them said: You are a high achiever. I wasn’t sure about this so. I looked it up in the dictionary. Yes, I muttered to m self. I am a high achiever.

Time for another latte.

Published by unipolar2

I’m a writer living in Wales

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