All the Way to Reno

I am a recovering agoraphobic. I gave up a job three years ago after the discovery that I could barely leave the house, much less travel a commute, without devastating panic attacks. City hopping, flights to Europe, all the doors of my old life slammed shut at once. 

Long story short – I was treated through CBT, I did the whole graduated exposure thing (small incremental trips with my walking bag bristling with a panoply of safety behaviours: maps, water bottle, comfort books and, for some reason, fucking emory boards) and recovered to the point where I can again work full time and have a full social life. Still, there is some fear around the edges. When I walk up to town through Oxford Road there is this one fucker of a road that is difficult to cross and makes me panic a little. Booth Street East is my mortal enemy.

I used to believe that the shit is always with you and that all you can do is learn to manage it better. I now think it’s possible to outlive these things completely. Whatever, the right way is to test the edges and so, today, I am going to London – big scary fucking London. I will be tweeting about it. Twitter is good for panic attacks.

Wish me luck, my friends. Avaunt!

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3 Responses to “All the Way to Reno”

  1. Willow Says:

    I hope it’s going well. x

  2. paul murdoch Says:

    “I now think it’s possible to outlive these things completely.”

    too right

    “managing” a problem is the great Fabian fallacy…which is an odd attitude from a bunch of crypto-Methodists…you’d think they’d have more of a redemptive, liberationist vibe.

    luckily I try to think like a socialist…so I believe the point is to overcome.

  3. paul murdoch Says:

    I’ve got to qualify that previous post. I’d been out drinking a lot and ‘talking politics’…which is arguably as conciliatory a euphemism as the evening’s rhetoric deserved. And I was right on one.

    that said…

    I can sorta see where I was coming from.

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