I had a really useful session today, in terms of preparing for Sunday. R said that she re-read my email last night, and felt a pang in response to knowing I am going to deal with that.

‘Can you tell me a bit more about the trigger? You don’t have to if you don’t want to…’
‘For me, that song is inextricably linked to the last week of Chris’ life. When I found out, you know…we’ll stick with ‘you know’.’
‘OK.’
‘The week before I found out that she was not going to live, I had been learning the song at a local youth club. There was no indication that anything was going to happen. Then the following week I was putting the bass line with the chords and getting irritated. “She deserves to hear it once, perfectly…”
‘It became for Chris?’
‘Yes. The only version I can just about handle is John Lennon’s, because he doesn’t really sing it.’

We talked about my expectation that my personal stuff should not affect me in a professional capacity.

‘When you are at work, you should be bulletproof?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Please do.’
‘What is the worst that can happen, and can you survive it?’
‘I don’t want to cry in front of my boss, because of the awkward conversation that might ensue afterwards.’
‘The fear is crying in front of your boss. We have talked before about you not wanting to appear to be Fragile Lost.’ R asked who would be attending the service with me, and I filled her in.

She followed up by asking whether I would react in the same way if a colleague shared similar fears about a situation.

‘Of course not!’
‘You are able to show more compassion for others than yourself.’
We discussed how my default strategy when faced with that song has always been to leave.
‘In this case, I have to pay enough attention to what happens afterwards to be able to write about it for the website. I am very grateful that my colleague is doing the reading, and I didn’t step up.’
‘Is that something you would have considered, taking out the huge trigger?’
‘My colleague has an acting background.’
‘And the confidence.’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you let somebody know in advance that you’re going to find it difficult?’
‘If I let somebody know, there’s a tendency towards “You’ll be all right”.’ R seemed to get that.
‘This sounds stupid, but...It is stupid...’
‘You need to say it.’
‘I’d rather have a panic attack than cry in public.’
‘The Critic is loud today. Disproportionate earlier, now… That doesn’t sound stupid.’
R continued: ‘Can I just say Lost, that doesn’t sound stupid. From knowing you, that makes sense. With a panic attack, people don’t ask questions. When someone cries, it’s “Are you okay?”, “What’s wrong?”, “What happened?”’
‘Are you OK is the one I’m scared of.’
‘Perhaps you could consider how you will answer that?’
‘This event is really something to celebrate. It is the first time our young people have been invited to share their work. We have one young person reading. I love what I do, and I want to be able to enjoy this.’

‘You lit up then. Just a suggestion, but can you give as much air time to that as the other?’

‘The two things can co-exist.’

‘That moment will undoubtedly be difficult, and triggers have a way of pulling you down into a darkness that is difficult to get out of. When you feel that happening, do something.’
I paused the conversation there, because I needed to grab something.

‘For as long as I’ve dealt with anxiety, I have never owned a stress ball. We went to a garden centre on Sunday, and I got myself a stress sloth.’

She asked whether she could have a look. I handed it to her, and she commented that it felt nice, ‘but because it’s an animal, I don’t want to squeeze it too hard. I’d suggest you keep it in your pocket on Sunday.’

We had a chat about the things that have happened recently, and R said:

‘I’m quite a spiritual person, I don’t like to put it on people unless it is useful for you, but sometimes, I do believe that everything happens for a reason. Work is broadening your horizons, and you are increasing your resilience because of it.’