by Lacey London
‘I thought as much.’ I interject, before the air turns blue. ‘I bet he’s having a fabulous time out there.’
As Aldo proceeds to fill me in on how much fun Edward is having on his modelling assignment in Los Angeles, I unpack a box of coats and slip them onto hangers.
‘When is he due back?’ I ask, smoothing down my trusty parka jacket and collapsing the empty box.
‘Six weeks.’ Aldo murmurs, checking out his latest inking. ‘At least I get some peace and quiet whilst he’s gone.’
‘You miss him really.’ I tease, gathering the coats and piling them high.
He shrugs his shoulders and fills the chest of drawers with stacks of paperwork. ‘Do you have work today?’
I nod and rip open yet another box. ‘I’m chairing the Wilmslow meeting at eight.’
Aldo takes a glance at his watch and holds up a roll of paintbrushes. ‘Where are these going?’ He asks, turning them over in his hands and wiping a layer of dust from the top.
Glancing at the brush set, I feel my heart pang with longing. Since my encounter with anxiety, I simply haven’t been able to paint. I’ve tried on many occasions, but each time results in me staring at a blank canvas for hours on end. It’s as though someone has taken my artistic creativity and locked it in a box and it’s a box that I can’t fathom how to open.
‘I’ll put them upstairs.’ Leaning across the coffee table, I take the brushes and stroke them fondly.
Squeezing past the boxes in the hallway, I jog up the stairs and push open the door to the spare room. I originally intended to make this my studio, but with my new job taking up the majority of my time and my artistic flair at an all-time low, I decided to dress it as a bedroom. Placing the roll on the dressing table, where my paint pots and canvases have already set up home, I take a seat on the bed and look out of the window.
As I watch the trees rustle against the side of the building, the door squeaks open to reveal a curious Mateo.
‘Meow…’ He purrs casually, turning his head from side to side as he pads into the room.
Stopping to inspect the new rug, he jumps up onto the bed and rolls around on the sheets. Not being able to resist joining in with him, I throw myself back and scratch his tummy playfully. I was a little worried about how Mateo would react to yet another change of address. In his few short years on this planet, he has been passed from pillar to post, but looking at him now, as he happily paws the duvet, I have a feeling we’re going to be just fine…
Chapter 3
Adjusting the stand of pamphlets, I steal a glance at my watch and take a seat at the head of the circle. The meeting starts in just five minutes and the room is already starting to fill up. Raising my hand in acknowledgment to a couple of attendees I recognise, I clear my throat and get comfortable. Despite the many hours of training, it took me a little while to appreciate that every Anxiety Anonymous meeting is different. Different people, different problems and different requirements.
Hearing the clock strike eight, I wait for the room to fall into silence before speaking.
‘Hi, everyone. Thank you for coming along this evening. For those of you who are joining us for the first time, my name is Sadie and I would like to welcome you to this Anxiety Anonymous meeting.’ I pause for breath and smile easily at the dozen faces staring back at me. ‘Regardless of where you are on your journey with anxiety, this meeting can help you get back on the path to mental wellness...’
I trail off as I hear the door squeak open behind me, effectively grabbing everyone’s attention. Looking over my shoulder, I smile as a bearded man nods back at me and takes a seat at the far end of the room. Silently lowering his backpack to the floor, he pulls his brow into a frown and stares at me intently.
‘Absolutely everything you say in this room is completely confidential.’ I continue. ‘You can share as much or as little as you like. There are no rules and there is no judgement.’ I rest my hands in my lap and look around the room. ‘So, does anyone have anything they would like to share with the group?’
There’s a little hushed whispering, before a lady I recognise from previous meetings raises her hand.
‘A few months ago, my husband started to have panic attacks.’ She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and exhales loudly. ‘We came along to the support group a few times and I saw a massive improvement…’
I nod along and tuck my hair behind my ears, listening closely.
‘For a while, he seemed to be back to his normal self, but he’s slowly slipping back into his shell. It’s like a cloud is constantly hanging over him and I don’t know what to do to help.’ Her voice wobbles and she covers her mouth with her hand.
‘Unfortunately, it takes time and perseverance to conquer panic attacks and although it might seem impossible, they can be beaten. If you cast your mind back to the time where you saw an improvement in his disposition, was he doing anything differently?’
She nods enthusiastically and shuffles to the edge of her seat. ‘He was using all the self-help practices and they helped him to actually talk about his feelings. The grounding technique proved to be particularly helpful when he had a panic attack, but now he is refusing to use it.’
Shaking her head, she pulls a tissue from the depths of her handbag and dabs at her glassy eyes.
‘Sadly, many people will discover the profound effects of behavioural therapies, only to toss them aside once they see the results. As with many things in life, the mind takes time and commitment to see lasting changes.’ I explain, making sure to include the rest of the group in the conversation. ‘However, the positive side of this, is that you have seen just how effective these techniques can be. You have witnessed the success of these methods first-hand.’
Alec, a regular attendee, coughs and turns to face the crying lady. ‘Is there a reason he isn’t attending the meetings?’
‘He feels like he’s done with the meetings now. I’ve tried explaining to him that there isn’t a quick-fix for what he’s experiencing, but he refuses to dedicate any more time to this. In his eyes, attending these meetings is allowing the anxiety to interfere with his life.’ The rest of the group nod in understanding as she speaks.
‘I can relate to that.’ Alec sighs loudly and crosses his legs. ‘When my wife first suggested support groups, I dismissed the idea entirely. I’m not the kind of bloke who talks about his feelings easily. However, I’ve been attending Anxiety Anonymous for around a year now and I have seen a massive improvement…’
A small round of applause echoes around the group and Alec’s cheeks flush violently.
‘Thank you, but I’m not looking for recognition. The point I am making is that even after all this time, I still need a helping hand in dealing with my anxiety and that is nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘Thank you for your input, Alec.’ I smile gratefully at him and turn back to the room. ‘I would like to add something to Alec’s point. You don’t have to attend the meetings in order to see long-term results, but you do have to keep up the techniques at home and that’s where your husband has unfortunately taken a step back…’
Our latecomer coughs and I glance over in his direction. ‘Is there anything you would like to add?’ I ask softly, not wanting to put any pressure on him to speak.
Turning to look at me, he brings his dark eyes up to meet mine. Torment is etched onto his face, in a way that makes my heart pang with sadness. Slowly shaking his head, he looks down at the ground in silence.
Tearing my eyes away from the silent man, I lick my dry lips before addressing the room once more. ‘I wish I could wave a magic wand and free you all from your mental demons, but the truth is, I can’t. What I can do, is be a point of guidance and support in helping you all on your journey.’ I pause and move my gaze from one person to the next, making sure to hold eye contact with everyone in the room. ‘Anxiety can steal our thoughts, our sleep and even our inner peace, but together, we can and will take it back…’
Chap
ter 4
Clearing away the chairs, I leave the remaining people to chat amongst themselves and start to gather my belongings. As usual, a few members are making the most of the complimentary snacks and are sharing their stories over a coffee. Watching the scene in front of me, I notice our late arrival hovering by the information stand. Studying each flyer carefully, he squints at the writing before moving on to the next.
During my time with the support group, I’ve come across many men like this. Men who just need a gentle nudge to open up and take the next step by asking for help. At first, I was reluctant to approach people who seemed a little on the reserved side, but if experience has taught me anything, it’s that initiating contact is almost always the best move.
Carefully making my way over to him, I tug my bag onto my shoulder and point at a glossy leaflet.
‘This one I find particularly beneficial…’ Reaching across the table, I take the pamphlet and hold it at arm’s-length. ‘There are lots of hints and tips in there on how to retrain the way you think. Plus, there’s a great explanation of what exactly anxiety is.’
He stares at the leaflet for a moment too long, before reluctantly accepting it and folding the paper in half.
‘Is this your first time with us?’ I ask, leaning against the wall and offering him a friendly smile. ‘I haven’t noticed you here before.’
Nodding in response, he turns back to the stand of flyers and plucks a couple more from the display. His dark hair is peppered with grey, but something tells me he’s much younger than he looks. Giving him a quick once-over, I notice his olive skin is littered with fine lines, like a map of the trauma that led him here.
‘Well, my name is Sadie Valentine and I’m the counsellor here.’ Holding out my hand for a polite shake, I’m taken aback by how deep his voice is when finally speaks.
‘Aidan Wilder.’ Accepting my hand, he shakes it firmly before folding his arms defensively.
I’m about to explain the whole point of Anxiety Anonymous is that you don’t have to disclose any information about yourself, when Aidan picks up his backpack and heads for the exit. Watching the door close behind him, I exhale quietly and straighten the information stand. I meet people from all walks of life here at the support group, but every so often, I come across someone who intrigues me that little bit more. Of course, everyone comes here for the same reason, but Aidan has an air of immense torment surrounding him that is so overwhelmingly powerful, I can almost feel it myself.
Abandoning the pamphlets, I tug on my jacket and say goodbye to the few remaining people in the coffee area. Seeing them chat amongst themselves after the meetings is one of my favourite things about Anxiety Anonymous. People don’t just come here to talk to me and listen to my words of wisdom, they come here to integrate with others who are just like them. They understand one another completely and that creates an open environment for them to feel comfortable in. Anxiety Anonymous isn’t just a support group, it’s a huge part of people’s lives.
With a final glance over my shoulder, I push my way outside and leave them to talk. The sun is starting to set in the distance, casting the world in beautiful shades of orange and red. Tipping back my head, I take a moment to study the clouds. I’ve always thought of the sky as a giant canvas, one which Mother Nature paints every evening and erases each morning. Just like you and me, she has good days and bad days. Some of her creations are better than others, but every display is uniquely beautiful.
Forcing myself to carry on walking, I slip my hands into my pockets and head towards Blossom View. With it being late spring, the air is slightly warm as it blows through my hair, causing strands of blonde to stick to my lip gloss. Picking up my pace, I weave between the clusters of people on the crowded pavement. Joyful chatter floats out of the many bars and restaurants that line the roadside, enticing you in for a glass of fizz, or two. Reminding myself that I still have unpacking to do, I carry on walking and breathe in the fresh air.
Spotting my old apartment block ahead, a plethora of emotions rush through my veins. It’s like coming face-to-face with an ex. All of those old feelings come flooding back and you’re powerless to stop them. Looking down at the ground, I give the familiar building a sideways glance. Even though I pass the apartment block that I used to call home multiple times a day, I still find it weirdly difficult to look at.
I know this sounds crazy, but I almost blame my previous address for my downfall. It’s as though the apartment is where the old me still resides. The version of me that crumbled and allowed herself to be defeated by the darkness in her mind. Out here, I am strong. I am independent and I am free from the torment that poisoned my thoughts and killed my spirit.
Leaves rustle in the breeze, creating a soothing soundtrack as I pound my feet against the pavement. Tucking my hair behind my ears, I stop in my tracks as a Range Rover starts to reverse from the driveway to my left, completely blocking my path. Looking back at the apartment block as I wait for the car to leave, my eyes land on a shadowy figure sat at the bus stop. Squinting for a better view, I’m surprised to discover that it’s Aidan from the support group. Keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, he rests his head in his hands, just like he did in the Anxiety Anonymous meeting.
As I look on, a bus fires down the lane, before coming to a steady stop in front of him. Slowly pushing himself to his feet, he steps on board without even looking at the destination. Nobody uses that bus route. Apart from the odd pensioner visiting family in the next village, it’s usually completely vacant. Telling myself it’s none of my business, I carry on walking until I reach Blossom View.
One of the most difficult things about being a counsellor, is that I find it extremely hard to accept my role finishes the moment I step out of the meeting. Just because I’m not being paid doesn’t mean I can turn off my desire to help people. Ironically, it’s like anxiety itself. It’s not a switch you can flip on and off when the mood suits. Having been through the torment of anxiety myself, I understand more than anyone just how lonely it can make you feel. Anxiety and depression have a way of making you feel alone in a room filled with people. You can be surrounded by friends, family and acquaintances, yet still feel like you don’t have anyone to turn to.
Trying to push all thoughts of Anxiety Anonymous to the back of my mind, I slip my key into the door.
‘Hello!’ I gush, as Mateo fires down the stairs to greet me. ‘Have you made yourself at home today?’
‘Meow…’ He purrs, plucking at the rug with his claws and rubbing his head against my ankles.
Shaking off my jacket, I hang it on the coat stand and pop my head into the living room. Aldo and I did a mammoth job earlier and now, splashes of my personality are scattered around the place, breathing life back into the old cottage. My artwork hangs on the walls, photographs sit on the windowsill and my favourite crystal vase stands proudly on the coffee table. It’s like I have finally arrived. This is it. Home sweet home.
Beaming in satisfaction, I wander into the kitchen and fill Mateo’s bowl with food. Meowing happily, he immediately dives into his dinner. Turning my attention to my own grumbling stomach, I turn on the oven and pull open the fridge. Realising my options are limited, I plump for a baked potato and pop it into the oven.
Pushing open the back door, I step into the garden and take a seat on the iron bench, which was left here by the previous owners. The neighbour’s apple tree hangs over the fence, resulting in a collection of vivid fruits falling into the grass at the bottom of the yard. The garden was one of the main reasons I chose to buy this place. It’s like a secluded little wonderland, bursting with life and the magic of all things green.
Allowing my eyes to close, I listen to the cherry blossom whisper as the wind whooshes through its branches. This year has given me a new-found love for spring. It’s that one time of the year where new life starts to appear right before your eyes. Spring brings growth, it brings clarity and most importantly, it reminds us that it’s time for something more be
autiful…
Chapter 5
‘Thanks for coming along today.’ I smile at Ruby and link my arm through hers. ‘I miss seeing you at the meetings.’
Grinning back at me as we walk along the leafy street, Ruby rests her head on my shoulder. ‘I know, but I’m in a really good place. Not having to rely on the support group to get through the day anymore is a great feeling.’
After almost two years of regular visits to Anxiety Anonymous, Ruby has been panic-attack-free for five months and she’s now starting a new chapter in her life. For so long, she allowed her anxiety to put the brakes on any plans that she dared to make, but looking at her now causes my heart swell with pride.
‘How are you finding Escapism?’ I ask, slipping on my sunglasses as the sun peeps out from behind a fluffy cloud.
Being so consumed with her mental health, Ruby never pursued her dreams to travel the world, but with a little encouragement, she took the giant step of joining the travel industry.
‘I’m really enjoying it, but it’s giving me a serious case of wanderlust.’ Tucking her aubergine waves behind her ears, she smiles brightly. ‘Booking people onto their dream holidays is amazing, but I spend all day fantasising about white sands and clear waters.’
‘Where would your dream holiday destination be?’ I interrupt, turning to face her. ‘If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?’
Stopping in her tracks, she screws up her nose and looks deep in thought. ‘Probably the Seychelles. They’re quiet, tropical and the perfect escape from reality.’
‘That sounds incredible.’ We turn left and push open the gate to the park.
‘Doesn’t it just…’ Ruby motions towards an empty bench across the field and I follow her lead.
The verdant park is practically deserted. Apart from a small exercise class in the tennis court, we are completely alone. Dumping my handbag onto the bench, I pull out the sandwiches we bought earlier and hand one to Ruby.
