I stood on the busy platform (11C) at Leeds station, waiting for the delayed 17.05 to Blackpool North, surrounded by commuters. As the train pulled in, people tried to anticipate the position of the doors at the end of each carriage, collecting themselves in bunches, poised, ready to get on board and secure a seat. My estimation of the likely position on the platform that would correspond to the end of a carriage and its doors, was a few feet off, so I was not in pole position, and had to edge up behind a group of people, come in from the side, wait my turn as people stepped on board one at a time ahead of me, hoping that all the seats wouldn't be taken by the time I got there. And as I stood, and as I took my turn, I saw myself there, and I talked soothingly to myself about what was going on, and remembered not to hold my breath....
and I remembered the trip into Manchester back in April for my supervision, when I began to cry in the street as I came out of a Chinese supermarket having bought light soy sauce, and did not really know why, at that moment I was crying, and was not able to stop for a while. Sat at the tram stop blowing my nose, wondering what was happening to me, and wishing very much that I was at home. On the tram began to feel ill, and recognised the signs of impending panic attack, told myself to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, and to get myself to the cafe round the corner from my supervisor's house, get a cup of tea and a Danish, and keep breathing. All of which I did. Then got myself to C's and cried a lot more... That was when I knew I was in real trouble and needed more time off work. A lot more time as it turned out.
And here I am seven months on, Leeds today, Manchester tomorrow and no, it isn't always easy, but I am regaining my confidence, my basic life skills. My ability to manage the world.
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