So I walked my way into the record books nearly, each day making my way to the local woods, sitting in among the trees, the smell of motorcycle fuel all around me as it was a gathering spot for motorcycle enthusiasts. I’d been a biker in my past life. Yes I was for my sins. Loved it, too. Anyway, here in the woods was my go to place. I’d spend an hour, maybe two, listening to music, taking in the sights, the sounds… cooling off from my walk. I’d buy a cup of tea, take off my shoes and feel the cool grass under my feet. I needed this break before home as I suffer from H.M.S. Noooo… not a ship! Hyper mobility syndrome, the illness that’s not known much about except, as the sufferer, we know all about it, of course. Means my joints are awfully painful. They burn, dislocate, pop out of their sockets… all kinds of amazing things you don’t want me to bore you with. But my joints would be burning so I’d rest and recover for my walk home. Despite the pain this is my time. I loved the feel of being free to walk… just being free actually.
See, as a child I had to answer to a very strict mum, then I was married to a man who thought I should be chained to the kitchen sink or just chained, so moments of freedom before were very rare and fought hard for. After these walks I’d come home, shower, invariably chat to Jess. If he wasn’t about I’d go sit by the local duck pond, write poetry, dream of my man. I spent hours doing this.
At this time I had been told the name of a solicitor. Now, there wasn’t one local so it meant going into the city; an hour long bus ride away. This was fine but I’d not been on a bus in over twenty years. Agoraphobic people can have issues riding public transport. And boy did I have issues! But in my head I knew if I was ever going to get on a plane to see Jess I needed to conquer the dreaded bus phobia at least. If I couldn’t even manage a bus how in the hell would I manage a plane or three.
When that dreaded day arrived I woke up sweating, shaking. I was physically sick while I got ready. I chatted to Jess. He kept me calm. “You’ll be fine” he assured. Mmmmhem. I wasn’t so sure but I went, sat at the bus stop, tried chatting to fellow would-be passengers. Had Jess, my daughter, friends on text constantly. As the bus pulled up waves of anxiety filled me. Here I was, no safe person (a person some of us agoraphobics rely heavily on to be at our sides to keep us safe) but I got on the bus. Sat right up against the side of it, leaning heavily, praying no one would sit near me, especially guys. I was a mass of shaking nerves but as the bus pulled away, I texted everyone. They all cheered me on. Twenty minutes in I found myself relaxing into the beautiful scenery on the way. It really was pretty. I took pictures, showed my group where I was going. They were all brilliant. Jess and Becky were so proud of me, made me feel like I was doing something amazing, not just sitting on a bus.
By the time I’d reached my destination fear was in the past. Now to find my way to the solicitor’s. Lincoln is a big city and I was a lone agoraphobic in it. To start with I got lost… soon as I left the bus terminal. Oh come on… I’d never gone anywhere alone in years. LOL But I approached someone (yes I approached a real human) but this, although nerve wracking, was far preferable to walking around aimlessly in the heat for hours. I really have no sense of direction. No I don’t as Jess would learn down the line but they told me there were two directions. (Oh please don’t give me two ways to get anywhere that’s a disaster in the making.) I chose the gap in between the boards where there was a huge amount of construction going on. And, yes, it lead me to the main high street. WOW!!!!! Shops, lots of shops, hundreds of people. Arghhhhh!!!!! But it was 2:15 pm and I had to be at my solicitor’s at 2:30pm. I hadn’t a clue where that was so once again I stopped where I was, got on my mobile (cell phone to my American friends) and I asked for directions. Okay, no biggy you’re saying, but I’m phone phobic and I was talking to strangers! Oh my!! (Here I am peopling again.) I mean legal secretaries, I’m talking to ladies who don’t know Treez and her oddities. No sense of directions. Please don’t tell me go left, turn right, left again for six blocks, etc. It’s my worst nightmare. But no, I was told go straight on, under the arch, then turn left, walk till you get to the end. I could do that right. (Couldn’t I?) Yes I did.
I found my solicitor. I was dressed like a bag lady as my jeans hung off me. I had a black vest on with my favourite baggy big men’s shirt loose over the top. Best I could do with no clothes I’m afraid. I left all my clothes behind when I escaped my ex. I felt on the back foot from the start. See, not only was my dress code all wrong, but I have learning issues due to the H.M.S. (No, not a ship LOL) Plus my solicitor is a guy. Oh well. I go into the reception, announce myself, sit nervously on my hands while waiting on an authority figure, another problem for me.
In the end I only talk to his secretary, she’s nice enough, and she writes down my story. I’m only there half hour, then back out into the stuffy summer air I’d normally hate but love because I survived another milestone. I walked back along the high street strolling as there’s no rush now… I can take in my surroundings. I’m starving as it’s gone three and I’ve not eaten since the night before. (Nerves will do that to you.) I go into a posh coffee shop and order tea and a scone. Very British. LOL I sit out in the cool shade of the tearoom enjoying watching folks mill about, listening to their chatter. I’m alone, all alone, seeing couples, seeing friends. It dawns on me I really am alone! I’m sat having fancy tea on my own. Okay, I’m texting friends, but here I am at my age, sat for the first time by myself. That was one cathartic moment folks. ( I felt lonely. I felt abandoned. I felt scared, belonging nowhere to no one.) I walked into a few shops, bought myself a salad at Marks and Spencer. (Marks n Sparks to us Brits.) I sat again very alone at the bus station.
I spoke to my friend Donna for a while. I couldn’t reach Jess. I felt small. I felt lost but proud I did this. I had achieved much that day, much I never thought I could. I sat looking back and remembering sitting on a bench in the square of the high street and this guy coming up and sitting down next to me. I didn’t move away in horror as I would have previously. I made myself stay put. He talked about fishing there in the canal many times and did I know that the city of Lincoln was the birth place of many famous people? I listened. I love listening to people. He listed all these stars. I murmured what I thought was an interested-sounding response. One really caught my ear. Did I know that Whitney Houston was born there and found fame? “Erm, no” I reply. “Sure didn’t.” Who knew! He then said his goodbyes and left. I like to think I gave him a much needed platform to air his thoughts. Cost me nothing and he left happy.
Just as I thought that the bus turned up. I enjoyed my long ride home listening to music, still feeling a little lost but do you know what?… I’d done what I thought impossible so it was alright. Also around this time I was applying for my passport… something you need, right? before traveling. I’d never had one before. Had filled in the forms, sent them… eagerly waiting on my shiny new passport, my passport to my man. We started this in March. Keep this date in mind, folks. I hear back they need more information. I send it. April, May, June, July… no passport. We are getting antsy. Our nerves already taught from the thought of finally, yes finally, meeting.July turns to August. No passport. I find out a letter had gone to my old address. Ex had ripped it up or something. I phone. Finally we get a passport. Now everything’s possible. The nerves rattle as I’m about to see my man for our first meeting. I’m going to fly. I’m going to stay in a hotel. never done any of this. What’s more I’m going to hold my man. God I couldn’t wait.
To be continued…
My American Man In Purple Lace Corsets 