Today I found myself crying, on a bus I had never ridden before.
Now, I’m sure that doesn’t seem that unusual, especially if you know me. I cry at a lot of things, up to and including riding buses.
The thing that makes this interesting is that I wasn’t crying because of the bus, that’s the up of mental illness. I have got my anxiety so under-control that today I wandered up to the bus station and stepped onto the first bus I saw. An unprecedented move for someone that methodically plans every moment of the day. I was so impressed with myself because this bus was 50p cheaper than the one that I usually get home, and I was content to just let it take me as I had nothing on tonight.
Unfortunately this afternoon had just the right conditions for a major meltdown. It was 30 degrees, I was on a bus that did not smell good, I knew I had a good 20 minute walk uphill ahead of me, work was more taxing than usual, I am on my period and I had my feelings hurt. This combination meant silently crying in a hot smelly bus full of old people and downing warm pepsi max in an attempt to sort myself out. The other great dimension to this journey is that it should take 10 minutes to get from where I work to my home, but this bus took a wild sojourn through town.
So what am I getting at?
There are crazy emotional ups and downs that I go through every day, I can cry at the drop of a hat. In these moments when you think nothing has gotten better and you are useless you have to remember that actually you have come so far. When I was eighteen I wouldn’t even get the bus to town because I was so anxious and yet today I managed to get on the number 40 and just trust it would take me where I wanted to go. And yes, I cried on a public bus, but at the same time I was achieving something.
(extra message: get on the number 40 bus of life and let it take you somewhere, even if you cry on the way!)