Trebarwith

Sometimes it is hard to remember...

I have just returned from Whipsiderry Beach. I took my camera but missed the sun as it fell behind a bank of cloud on the horizon as I descended the steep steps that lead down to the beach. I couldn't really get my eye in for photography until near the end as the dispersed glow of the sinking sun began to fade and left the island there silhouetted with the damp slate of the rockpools just reflecting enough light for some detail in them to be recorded against the gathering night time sky.
At one time I used to visit this beach often. It was near a school that I briefly taught in and I would escape there at lunchtime, returning late to lessons with my socks soaked through from paddling through the pools and my trousers covered in sand. Sounds romantic doesn't it? The fey teacher with his head in the clouds and his heart in the great outdoors. Sadly, it wasn't as this fey teacher was crippled with anxiety and no roaming alone on a Winter strand could cure that.
Now that I no longer suffer so badly from anxiety it is hard to remember how it felt and continued to feel until quite recently. It is also hard to convey the sheer terror of it, it is not like nerves. People become transformed before your eyes into diabolic creatures whose only wish is to expose you and destroy you. Each word that leaves your mouth in a conversation has to be be forced out by a sheer effort of will. In all social situations you are planning ahead, finding ways to protect yourself from and remove yourself from the awful gaze and attention of others. Friendship is impossible because just talking to another human being is a nightmare to be escaped from.

And sometimes I forget how brave I was to carry on when most people would have given up.