In the year 2000, after residing in London for over ten years and spending five years at EMI Records, I began to feel increasingly anxious and claustrophobic. Having relocated from the spacious and serene Surrey to Brixton in the late 1980s, I found that my discomfort was particularly pronounced during my daily commutes, especially on public transport.
As my anxiety intensified, I experienced a series of distressing panic attacks, where it felt as if the environment around me was constricting. The situation escalated in July 2003, when I encountered an overwhelming panic attack during my commute from Brixton to the South Bank. In a moment of desperation, I attempted to exit the tube carriage through the doors, but fortunately, fellow passengers restrained me until we reached the next station. This incident made it clear that I could no longer disregard my escalating issues.
The following year, my general practitioner referred me to a hypnotherapist. In our regression sessions, I would relax in a chair, close my eyes, and feel as if I were journeying back through various moments of my life. After three months of exploring my past, my therapist bluntly asked if I had ever been involved in a train crash. Surprised, I answered no, believing I would have remembered such an incident. However, she urged me to verify the information with my parents, suggesting that I might have been too young to recall it.
Upon visiting my family the next weekend, I asked my parents as my therapist suggested. To my astonishment, they exchanged glances before revealing that I had indeed been in a train accident as a child.
This incident occurred on September 4, 1965, when I was just four years old. I was returning home from a summer visit to Ireland with my grandmother, having taken a ferry from Dublin to Holyhead and boarding a train to London. While we waited to depart, another train collided with ours, jolting our carriage several feet back and trapping us inside. Although my grandmother and I emerged unscathed, we were caught in the sweltering September heat, surrounded by injured passengers amid rising panic.
My parents recounted that they had tried to discuss the incident with me afterward, but I would only scream and flee. To avoid distressing me further, they ceased all conversations about the event.
This revelation from my parents was transformative. It provided clarity regarding the source of my longstanding fears and anxiety. It helped to explain my difficulties with various modes of transportation, including trains and planes, and even being in cars. Each time I felt confined or trapped, my mind subconsciously revisited the traumatic crash, despite my lack of conscious memory of it. Understanding this truth enabled me to collaborate effectively with my therapist to cultivate coping mechanisms to reclaim my life from fear.
After completing my hypnotherapy in 2006, I traveled to Vancouver for work. Our team meeting was scheduled at the summit of Whistler Mountain, necessitating a 30-minute cable car ascent. My colleagues informed the cable car staff about my claustrophobia, and they assured me that I could exit partway if needed. Surprisingly, as the cable car ride commenced, I felt an unexpected sense of calm, even knowing I would be enclosed for at least 15 minutes. Upon reaching the midpoint, I was greeted with applause from the venue staff, which bolstered my confidence to continue to the top. Instead of opting to disembark, I called my hypnotherapist to share my location, exclaiming, “You won’t believe where I am – halfway up Whistler Mountain!”
Experiencing life without constant fear allowed me to embrace the life I always envisioned. This became especially significant when I welcomed my daughter six years later. I aimed to be the best version of myself for her, a goal that would have been unattainable while living in a perpetual state of anxiety. Now that she is 14, our mutual love for music has led us to explore London together through train and tube rides, attending crowded concerts. Without my unexpected discovery of the past, I might have missed out on sharing these precious moments with her.
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