Difficult memories

I’m in Galeria Tomaszów, our most modern shopping centre, only built a few years ago. Shops are closed but restaurants, cafes and children play area are open.

I bought an ice cream and a drink and I’m currently sitting on a fake leather round sofa. It’s not very busy, which is good.

Being here reminds me of the time I spent in Poland after my first psychotic episode. I travelled here while hallucinating, somehow managing not to get lost or not to lose my passport and suitcase. However, I spent a night in an expensive hotel in Warsaw that was almost £200, that was the only one I managed to find close to midnight as I wasn’t alert enough to book before leaving home. I guess I expected some magic power would take care of my accommodation when I need it.

Sometimes that’s how I still feel now, even though I’m not psychotic: I need a magic to guide me through life, if magic is not available I’d certainly get lost, even though it may look like I’m coping because my mortgage is already paid off and I’m not in debt. Certainly there’s more to life than being financially stable?

Being in this shopping centre, sitting on the exact same sofa, brings some difficult memories. Memories of that time when my roaming wasn’t working and I felt I couldn’t even make myself to contact the service provider about it, even though it meant very limited contact with The Boyfriend. So I used to come here with my laptop to check my emails, feeling absolutely petrified that I may get one from Employment Tribunal. And then, if I had one, I’d get a horrible panic attack in the evening. And one day I had a panic attack even though there was no email from Tribunal and since then I had them every day.

Being here reminds me of that time. Of how stuck I was.

What happened with Tribunal felt like absolutely unfair, most horrid punishment in the world. But what for? I was not a bad person, was I? But I didn’t want to get on with someone who was extremely influential.

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