The other day I had a ticket to go to a sports-based night out over in Wimbledon. It was basically an evening with the current captains from the UK TV show “A Question of Sport” with stories from their career and also silly games, all being hosted by Nick Hancock who used to host “They Think It’s All Over”. For a keen sports fan (to say the least) like me, this would be a really funny, good night out.
I came across the advert for it purely by accident about a week before the event and I made enquiries and secured a decent priced ticket in the VIP section no less! A Meet and Greet would you believe! The two captains I have actually met before at other charity events so this did not worry me about coming face to face with two sportsmen who I hold in high regard. I was really excited about going out for the evening and being thoroughly entertained for a couple of hours and basically having a really good laugh. I told my parents, Jack and Jill and a couple of other chums that I was going. I really couldn’t wait.
The day arrived and I was actually feeling really good during the day. I was getting more and more excited about going out that evening. I got through having a shower and getting ready and even managed to put some make up on and put a brush through my hair. I could hear my Mum saying, “you should make an effort because you never know who you might meet at this sort of event”. I was, what I would say, on “top form”. I was buzzing.
Getting to my house from Wimbledon would require going into the City on the overground train and then catching the underground (tube train) to my final destination. I have struggled using public transport before so I made sure that I had my iPod with me. On my iPod, I have downloaded the CD that I was given during my Mindfulness Group Therapy so that I could be reminded of the “breathing” and “safe place” if I found myself getting worried. I was good to go. I was prepared. This was going to be easy.
Leaving the house was, for a change, very easy. I was buoyed by the fact that I was having a good day in myself. I’d given myself plenty of time and, after letting two trains pass, I got on the train into town. Thankfully it was quite empty and I tucked myself into a corner seat and put my iPod on with the Mindfulness training and I was on my way. I got off the train and literally, as I walked through the gates at the train station, everything changed.
I started to feel uncomfortable at first. Pretty much immediately I was super aware of everyone around me. I felt as if everyone was staring at me. Nothing to really worry about, just put the Mindfulness program on the iPod and I’ll be fine. I just needed to push through this. This was going to be a great evening.
I couldn’t get on the underground train. I let the first train pass. The second train pulled in. I got to the doors, I let everyone off first but I just couldn’t make that first step into the carriage. I stepped back as the doors were closing, closed my eyes and regulated my breathing. I’d get on the next train. The next train passed. The fourth train pulled in. Again, the doors opened, everybody got off and I didn’t even try to get a foot on the carriage. I think someone actually asked me if I was getting on the train but by this point I was starting to feel as if I wasn’t in my own body. I went and sat down on one of the benches away from the platform edge.
Again, I closed my eyes, regulated my breathing and started trying to give myself a very stiff talking to. There was nothing to worry about here. It was 20 minutes maximum to Wimbledon. I could listen to my iPod, I wouldn’t have to engage with anybody on the train. To be fair, commuters are the most miserable bunch of people on the planet so it’s not like anybody would be talking to a stranger anyway.
It was at this time I was approached by a lady who I would find out later was called Rachel. It turned out that she is an Accident & Emergency Nurse who had experience of working with mental health issues. She had seen that I was struggling to get on the train and had (correctly) assessed that I was having an anxiety episode. She sat with me on the bench. I have no idea what she was saying to me at all. I don’t remember it. I just about remember saying to her that I was supposed to be going to Wimbledon and that I have BPD. It was at this point that I became completely disassociated and have absolutely zero recollection of what happened next.
Genuinely, the next thing I remember is being outside and it felt like I was returning to my own body and I started to hear what Rachel was saying to me. She was telling me to breathe deeply and that I was safe and nobody was going to hurt me. She was also saying that she wanted to call an ambulance. Apparently, she was concerned about my heart rate, blood pressure and the fact that, for the most part, I was non-responsive.
I finally returned to clarity and Rachel told me her name and that she had escorted me out of the station and was not leaving me until she knew that I was going to be okay. I have absolutely no idea how this tiny little thing (she couldn’t have been anything more than 5 feet, 3 inches) had got this lumbering mass out of a train station but she did. Then, it hit me. Where was she going? Was she going home? Was she late for something important? She was on her way to work. Oh, Hell No. The UK’s National Health Service is at breaking point as it is and now I’ve made a much-needed A&E nurse late for work because I can’t get my shit together enough to get on a tube train. I got angry with myself. I didn’t show it. Rachel said that she had already contacted work and told them the situation and that there may be a need for an ambulance if I remained non-responsive.
Eventually I was calm enough to reassure Rachel that I was absolutely fine and that I was just going to go home. I believe that it took, from the time Rachel first approached me to her being satisfied that I was okay, approximately 1 hour. I apologised profusely to her that she was now late for work and she could not have been more helpful, understanding or caring. There are some people who are just destined to work in that environment and Rachel is one of them. What an absolutely beautiful soul. I never got her surname but I hope that one day she reaps the rewards of her incredible act of kindness last week.
I made it back home after another hour or so and curled upon the sofa and cried for what seemed like hours. How could I have not made it to an event that I was so looking forward to?
I woke up the following morning completely exhausted and angry. It would take me that whole day to calm down enough to try to find any positives at all out of the situation and to try to understand where it all went wrong. I did.
I don’t have cause to go to Wimbledon much at all. I was going to somewhere I didn’t really know. I was on my own. I was going to be surrounded by people I didn’t know. I had tried to do too much, too soon. I hadn’t been on my own going to something like that since the breakdown. I figured it wouldn’t be a problem, I need to re-assess that now. I know that the overground train is troublesome to say the least but, for the time being, I need to avoid the underground. It’s not from the perspective of being claustrophobic because I’m not. I don’t know what triggered that anxiety but for now, I cannot put myself in that position when I am on my own. The underground should be tackled for the time being with someone. Do you know what, that’s okay. I got home, I was safe and I’ve taken the lessons learned from that experience and I will use them in the future.
Please note that this is just an account of my personal experience of an anxiety attack. I know full well that anxiety and panic attacks can take many different forms (which I will talk about more in the future) but this was just my particular experience last week.
Living The BPD Life 