One day, one glorious day, my panic attacks stopped. I didn't plan it, it just happened.
I was frying little cubes of parsnips. I didn't know they were miracle parsnips, I only knew I was cooking lunch. Suddenly I was freakishly scared. I was terrified of these little cubes, my whole body was shaking. Then the miracle happened. I looked at the feeling and looked at the parsnips and thought, hold on a minute, I'm not afraid of parsnips, this is something else.
I phoned the tree surgeon. I really did. I did it after my evening tai chi class and I went to the beach to do it. Then I could say I was at the beach and be immediately attractive. It didn't quite go as planned.
Well, I knew it would happen. It had to really. The tree surgeon wants to actually talk to me. In real life. It's probably enough for me to say my eyes are so wide open at the moment they may roll out of my head.
I don't want to write this. If I write it then I have to do it (which isn't true), I might have to do it. I shouldn't write it. Damn it, I will.
This is the beginning of the Great Dating Challenge 2012. 'What?', I hear you ask. Well, my body is very afraid of men. It's a big part of wanting to stay inside. Somewhere in my body is a sentence carved in stone saying 'men hurt'. Well no more. I have a hammer and chisel and I'm not afraid to use them. I have joined a dating site.
They smell, they walk poo into the carpet and sometimes they barf in my bed, but they're also a truck load of fun.
A few years ago I decided to foster dogs. I was a bit lonely. I told the charity I had a few problems, but they said that was fine, a home was better than kennels and they were on hand if I couldn't cope. 'Lets have a go and see what happens,' they said. 'OK, blimey, OK, oh god, OK,' I said.
It's tough. So tough sometimes I have to shout, 'Come on you lion!' Flashbacks come in bits and pieces; a pain in my side, spasms in my tum that have me juddering in a little ball, a wet sound that has me sobbing into my rice pudding, or just a wrong smell that flavours my banana and the water I swig afterwards to wash it away.
All the senses hold memories and they hardly ever make sense. Of course I avoided them, they hurt like hell. But what if stepping outside the front door is a trigger? What if doing new things is a trigger? Avoiding triggers can make a person a hermit.
But, and this is a big BUT, there is another way.
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