The world and I

22 Jul

You know looking through my photo albums I can see I’ve been to London quite a few times, as well as York and the odd other location. It made me think that anyone seeing my photos who isn’t familiar with my blog or my twitter could assume I had no problem with travel but they’d be wrong. All of these trips have been made with a friend because I can’t travel alone. The moment I have to rely on myself panic sets in. Even just catching a bus into town is really stressful. Yet when I’m with a friend I trust enough,for 90% of the time I’m fine.

On one occasion going to York I was meeting a friend there so I had to catch the train myself there and back it was awful. My sister put me on the train at one end because I was panicking. And it was one of the worst hours or so of my life, even though I’d been to York several times. Those journeys there and back were the first and only times I’ve ever caught a train by myself and even now I still don’t think I’m ready to face it again.

So here I am 30 years old and still reliant on other people. So don’t let my travels fool you, without my friends I couldn’t have done it. I’m less nervous than I used to be but I still can’t muster the strength to go anywhere alone except work and home. Not always through terror if it’s local but just a really uncomfortable feeling. It sometimes feels like there is a force-field between me and the rest of the world. Of course the fact that I live in the countryside and can’t drive doesn’t help. I tried learning to drive but I hated every minute of it, plus my panic at being outside of my comfort zone (you have to travel in a car right?) made the process far too painful. Plus on a low wage the cost of driving lessons is no joke! I suspect I’ll never learn to drive unless I overcome my problems with travel. Perhaps the real fear here is of trusting myself. I just don’t feel capable of doing anything for myself.

My head tells me that if I travel alone I’ll get on the wrong train, I’ll end up lost, I won’t be able to find my way home, nobody will help me, or I’ll be too shy to ask or too stupid to understand the answers.

The moment anything goes wrong it feels like a physical switch clicking in my head and suddenly the shutters are down my senses aren’t working and there’s just a racing heart and sweating palms and I can’t process information and all I can feel is panic.

Perhaps I should blame my parents. Isn’t that the fashionable thing to do? 

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