Standing in a queue nattering to locals, I am often told that people are surprised I suffer from depression. Really? they say. You look far to happy to be depressed. I add I have anxiety and suffer from the odd panic attack. Again they say really? you look and act so confident.
Little do they know my mind is playing the usual act of being calm is in a onward struggle to become a gibbering wreck. I haven’t left the house at night for about two years. Day time is fine. I can cope just about with places I know. places that have nice toilets and an escape exit in view or open spaces with green leafy things around them. Stick me in a field in the middle of nowhere and I will never panic. Stick me in a town at night and I will crawl up the walls, punching people as I try to escape, or crawl into the nearest wheelie bin and wait for morning. I always panic with a slight sense of humour but terrible grammar.
So there I am in a field lining up with a load of other half asleep people at 6.30am, waiting for my cup of coffee to appear. Its Sunday so it is boot sale. I must be nuts I say to myself. Looking around I see others are nodding, perhaps they are having the same thought. I smile. They are used to this mad lady grinning like a loony. It was only then I realised everyone must be slightly nuts.