by Lacey London
‘How’s the new place?’ She asks, ripping open the box and taking a giant-sized bite. ‘Have you unpacked?’
‘Pretty much.’ I tear off a chunk of bread and chew happily. ‘Yesterday, Mateo and I spent all afternoon making trips to the recycling centre with cardboard boxes.’
‘You took Mateo to the recycling centre?’ She laughs, quickly polishing off her lunch. ‘You’re crazy.’
‘That’s me…’ Wiping my hands on a napkin, I grab my phone and bring up my Twitter account. ‘A crazy cat lady.’
‘Speaking of crazies…’ Ruby pauses and studies my face carefully. ‘Aldo and I saw Piper in the village. She asked about you.’
My heart skips a beat and I try to hide my discomfort with a cough. Piper, along with Ivy and Zara, are three girls I used to call my friends. When I was in the grips of anxiety, it soon became apparent that I was no longer on their radar.
‘It’s nice of her to ask, but I have no interest in building bridges with her.’ Taking a swig of water, I slip my handset back into my bag.
‘I can understand that.’ Ruby nods along and bends down to pluck a daisy from the grass. ‘Not everyone is meant to stay in your life forever. Sometimes, they’re only there long enough to teach us a lesson…’
I stare up at the sky, allowing her words to sink in. Keeping friendships shouldn’t be a chore. If someone wants to be a part of your life, they’ll make an effort to be in it. I’ve always believed that when the going gets tough, you realise who your real friends are. There’s no sense in reserving a place in your heart for people who don’t want to stay.
‘Has your mum paid a visit to Blossom View yet?’ Ruby asks, tactfully trying to change the subject.
‘She tagged along when I took some measurements last week. I was glad she made the effort, but she criticised absolutely everything and proceeded to tell me I was a fool for giving up the apartment…’ My voice trails off as I recall the day I tried to impress my mother with my new home.
The disdain was clear to see the second her Bentley pulled up outside the cottage. Her lip curled up in contempt as I ecstatically showed her the old characteristics of the building, refusing to acknowledge anything I said with more than a swift nod of the head. My mother and I have never had a loving relationship, but I’m finally accepting that this is just the way things are between us.
‘How’s your mum?’ I mumble, batting away an excited bumble bee. ‘I seem to remember you mentioning it’s her birthday soon?’
‘It’s tomorrow. We’re throwing her a party on Saturday, if you and Aldo want to come along?’ Ruby twirls a strand of hair around her finger and knocks some breadcrumbs off her lap. ‘I should warn you though, it can get pretty crazy on the farm.’
‘We would love to come.’ I smile happily and clap my hands together. ‘It will be great to put faces to the names I hear so much about!’
Frowning sceptically, Ruby shakes her head and stands to her feet. ‘It’s your funeral.’
Letting out a laugh, I dust myself down as we retrace our steps to the car park. Not having the perfect family myself, I completely understand Ruby’s apprehension at introducing her friends to her nearest and dearest. Merging those two parts of your life for the first time is always a daunting experience.
‘What are your plans for tonight?’ She asks, letting out a yawn as we duck beneath the branches of an overgrown tree.
‘I’m going to attempt some home cooking.’ I announce proudly.
Spotting Ruby’s jaw drop open, I shoot her a scowl.
‘I’m serious! There’s an apple tree at the end of the garden and I’m going to make a pie…’
Erupting into a fit of giggles, Ruby bats my arm playfully and shakes her head.
‘Go ahead, laugh all you want, but the proof shall be in the pudding…’
Chapter 6
After several unsuccessful attempts at baking last night, I eventually gave up and resorted to ordering a pizza. It turns out, using a range cooker isn’t as easy as it looks. Despite purchasing a cookery book and following the guidelines exactly, the results of two hours slaving in the kitchen were less than impressive. However, today is a new day and I intend to turn my hand to something else. I will become a domesticated goddess if it kills me.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I suddenly realise Aldo should be here at any moment. Little does he know that he’ll be joining me in a spot of gardening. With my only meeting of the day being in Wilmslow this evening, I have a whole day of sunshine to fill and I’m dragging Aldo along for the ride.
Polishing off my coffee, I dump the empty mug in the sink and gather my gardening paraphernalia on the counter. Due to the fact I’ve never had a garden of my own before, it’s no secret that I don’t really know what I’m doing. My last-minute dash around the garden centre last night resulted in me blindly throwing a variety of things into the shopping trolley. As a result, I returned with a selection of flower seeds, some scary-looking tools and a couple of pairs of gardening gloves.
Feeling rather optimistic, I pull on an old t-shirt as Aldo’s voice echoes down the hallway.
‘Shirley?’
‘Are you ever going to drop that dratted nickname?’ I mutter, reaching up and planting a pink kiss on his cheek.
Choosing to ignore me, he frowns at my tired choice of clothing. ‘What the hell are you wearing?’
‘Exactly what you shall be wearing…’ Leaning across the table, I pull another t-shirt from the back of a chair. ‘We’re gardening!’
Aldo’s eyes dart from the faded t-shirt to the shovel by the back door. ‘I think I’ll pass.’
‘Oh, come on!’ I protest, trying to wrestle him out of his leather jacket. ‘Please?’
Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly takes the faded top and pulls it over his head, taking extra care not to disrupt his man-bun.
‘Still not smoking?’ I ask, spotting the nicotine patch on his bicep.
He grumbles something I don’t care to repeat and follows me outside into the garden.
‘Meow…’ Mateo purrs, before rolling around on the grass playfully.
Quickly snapping a picture of him on my phone, I rest my hands on my hips and turn to face Aldo.
‘What do I do with this thing?’ He asks, weighing up a double-ended trowel dubiously.
Not wanting to admit that I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, I pretend I haven’t heard him and kneel down beside the flower bed. Quickly running my eyes over the instructions on a packet of seeds, I nod confidently and pass him a spade.
‘We just need to turn over the soil, plant the seeds and that’s pretty much it…’ I tear open the box and ignore Aldo’s cynical frown.
For a short while, we dig in a comfortable silence. The delicate sound of chirping birds in the trees overhead fills the air as we attack the soil with our implements.
‘I’m really proud of you, Shirley.’ Aldo says suddenly, wiping his brow on his forearm and sitting cross-legged on the grass. ‘You’ve really turned your life around.’
Smiling back at him, I continue to dig until I reach fresh soil, not wanting to engage in the conversation.
‘There’s a small part of me that thinks I still need to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t slip back into, you know…’
As much as it pains me to hear Aldo talk about that time in my life, I completely understand his concerns. You don’t forget discovering your best friend overdosed on the bathroom floor in a hurry. My training for the support group has taught me that anxiety can affect those closest to the sufferer just as much as the sufferer themselves.
‘I wanted to run something past you…’ Aldo muses, pulling off his gardening gloves to reveal a black manicure. ‘How do you feel about getting back into the dating game?’
My blood runs cold and I bite my lip, not really knowing what to say. My last relationship was enough to put me off men for life. After all, my disastrous engagement was the trigger of my downward spiral in the first plac
e.
‘I don’t know.’ I mumble, watching Mateo bat a tulip and immediately run away. ‘I haven’t even thought about men for the past six months.’
‘Well, I met someone at the salon who I think would be perfect for you.’ He looks down at his nicotine patch and smooths down the crumpled corners. ‘He owns an art gallery in Chester and lives right here in the village. He’s funny, sophisticated and absolutely loves bloody cats.’
Aldo lets out a laugh and I can’t help but return it.
‘How would you feel about going for dinner with him?’
My heart wants to yell no, but my head warns me that the longer I leave it, the harder it will be to put myself out there again.
‘It’s just a bite to eat.’ Aldo persists. ‘I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure you would love him.’
Not feeling ready to lower my guard and allow someone to get close to me again, I go with my heart and shake my head.
‘To be honest, I think Mateo is the only man for me right now.’ Sensing that we’re talking about him, he pads down the path and curls up in a ball next to me.
Aldo studies my face intently, before reluctantly nodding in agreement. ‘That’s fair enough, but you don’t need to decide right now. Just think about it.’
I respond with a swift nod and smile as he returns his attention to the flower bed. Tipping the seeds into the palm of my hand, I let them fall through my fingers and think about Aldo’s proposition. If there was anyone in the world I would trust to pick a partner for me, it would be Aldo. I just find it hard to believe he knows what’s best for me, when I don’t even know myself…
Chapter 7
‘People with post-traumatic stress disorder are often plagued with panic attacks, especially when subjected to people, places and activities that remind them of the trauma they have experienced.’ Shuffling the stack of papers in my lap, I exhale slowly and look around the circle. ‘As Jackson has just described, the fear and trepidation of a panic attack can bring a whole new dose of anxiety...’
Jackson sighs heavily and holds his head in his hands. ‘I never used to be like this. Before my stint in the army, I was fun-loving, outgoing and the life and soul of every party. Now, I just sit in my flat, watching the world drift by and wondering if I’m ever going to be a part of it again. I’m just not me anymore.’
My heart pangs as I look into Jackson’s brown eyes. Listening to people whilst they confide their torment in you doesn’t get any easier. If anything, it gets harder with every story you hear and each tear that falls.
‘I remember having that exact realisation. For any sufferer, the moment when you realise you’re no longer yourself is monumental. Acknowledging that something is wrong is the first step in getting the help you need.’ Pausing for breath, I bite my lip and shuffle to the edge of my seat. ‘I appreciate this is your first time with us and you should be incredibly proud of yourself for making the decision to walk through that door today…’
Alec starts to clap and before long, the entire circle joins in with him.
‘The road back to mental wellness isn’t always quick or easy. However, with help and advice from myself and other members here at Anxiety Anonymous, you can rest assured that you will be guided every step of the way.’
The room erupts into applause once more, nicely concluding our meeting.
‘I’m afraid we’re out of time, but I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for joining us. I do hope to see you all on Monday. In the meantime, there’s the Anxiety Anonymous forum if you find yourselves struggling over the weekend.’
One by one, people grab their possessions and start to make their way towards the door. Watching a couple of regular attendees hang back to chat over a biscuit, I flash them a smile and make my way down the lobby. Realising that the information stand needs replenishing, I grab a pen from my handbag and make a note of the flyers I need to order.
As I busily scribble down serial numbers, I hear the door squeak open and look up to see a dishevelled Aidan standing in the doorway.
Staring back at me in complete silence, his dark eyes burn into mine. His beard is even longer than it was at the last meeting, but the anguish on his face is just as raw as I remember it.
‘Hi.’ I mumble, offering him a welcoming smile as he fidgets with his sleeve nervously. ‘I’m afraid you’ve missed the meeting.’
A dawning realisation creeps onto his face as he looks at the clock on the wall. Hanging his head, he rubs his temples and lets out an exhausted sigh.
‘We start at six on Fridays…’ I explain regrettably, feeling genuinely sorry for him.
With a thin smile in response, he turns around and reaches for the door handle.
‘Wait!’ I shout, a little louder than I intended.
Stopping in his tracks, Aidan looks over his shoulder expectantly.
‘We have an online support group that could help you until the next meeting, if you’re interested?’
We hold eye contact until it becomes uncomfortable, before he finally nods and allows the door to close. Motioning for him to follow me, I lead him into the meeting room, where a few of the others are still talking by the coffee machine. Clearly feeling awkward, Aidan holds back as I grab the forum details from the filing cabinet.
‘Here you go.’ Holding out the sheet of paper, I point to the website address. ‘It’s super easy. You just go to this site, create a username and start interacting. Ninety percent of the people here use the forum, so there’s always someone online to speak to.’
Opening his mouth to speak, Aidan closes it again as the last of the attendees say their goodbyes and squeeze past us.
‘I have the room for another five minutes, if there’s anything in particular you would like to talk about?’ I offer, studying his face carefully.
Once again, Aidan pauses before shaking his head. ‘You don’t need to do that. I’ll just come along to the next meeting…’
‘Are you sure?’ I take a step back and point to the empty circle. ‘A problem shared is a problem halved.’
He frowns and hesitantly pulls out a chair, letting out a groan that makes my bones ache. Cautiously taking a seat opposite him, I give him a moment to compose himself.
‘Anything you say here is completely confidential…’
‘I just want to feel normal again.’ He whispers, angst ringing through his voice as he stares down at the ground.
Not wanting to push him to the point he closes up, I choose my words carefully. ‘And what is normal?’
‘I don’t know.’ He eventually mutters. ‘I don’t even know who I am anymore.’ Running his fingers through his hair, he frowns and closes his eyes. ‘Sometimes, I don’t even know my own name…’
Nodding along as he speaks, I lick my lips before talking. ‘I know it might seem hard to accept, but anxiety and depression don’t define who you are. They’re things that you have, they’re not who you are…’
‘Then who am I?’ He fires back, bringing his eyes up to meet mine. ‘Please, tell me, because the person staring back at me in the mirror isn’t me.’
Desperation fills the room as he speaks. He’s literally begging me to fix him and tell him that I have the exact remedy he’s looking for. My mind flits back to the day that I was in Aidan’s shoes and sorrow washes over me.
I open my mouth to speak, but stop myself when the door swings open and Cynthia, the cleaner, pops her head into the room. Happily waving her feather duster in the air, she frowns when she spots us.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry for interrupting.’ Propping a vacuum cleaner against the wall, she pulls on a pair of gloves. ‘I was told this room would be vacant from seven.’
Aidan blinks repeatedly and hastily composes himself. ‘I’m sorry for keeping you…’
Pushing himself to his feet, he picks up his backpack and quickly heads for the exit.
‘Wait!’ I try to run after him, but he slips through the door before I can catch up.
Oblivious to the tension in the air, Cynthia grabs a bottle of polish and hums to herself as she gets to work. Flashing her a strained smile, I sigh heavily and watch Aidan march across the car park, before disappearing out of view. His words ring around my mind as I stand frozen to the spot.
I just want to feel normal again…
Cynthia cleans around me as I silently replay our brief conversation. During my darkest days, I would have given everything I had to feel like my normal self again, but what exactly is normal? If we didn’t comply to fit in with what society perceives to be normal, how different would our lives look like? How much of what we say, think and feel is orchestrated to fit in with this mould that has been forced upon us?
I was once told, if you’re always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can truly be, but what if normality is simply all that you crave?
Chapter 8
Applying the final touches to my makeup, I curse as Mateo jumps onto my lap, causing me to smudge my lipstick. Every time I try to leave the house, it’s the same thing. It’s almost as though he knows I’m making a bid for freedom and hopes his please cuddle me routine will be enough to make me stay. Unfortunately for Mateo, the taxi shall be here at any moment to take us to Ruby’s mother’s party.
‘Your hair has dropped again!’ Aldo groans, stepping into the bedroom and immediately grabbing a can of hairspray. ‘I told you to leave it alone!’
Watching him expertly backcomb my hair into the perfect chignon, I smile as he pulls a few loose tendrils around my face. Having a hairdresser to the stars as a best friend does have its perks, especially when you have an event to attend. Nodding in satisfaction, he quickly checks his own locks as our cab pulls up outside. With a final look in the mirror, I follow Aldo down the stairs and climb into the waiting taxi.
After giving the address to the driver, I sit back in my seat and pretend to listen as Aldo tells me about his day with the client from hell. A beautiful display of leaves flashes by the windows until we come to London Road. The glitzy row of shops and restaurants twinkle back at me as we shoot by, each one littered with happy tourists enjoying the sunshine.
