Books as Therapy

Not long after my appointment on Thursday, I found myself standing outside Waterstones wondering what the hell I was doing.
I walked in, my anxiety a little higher than usual, knowing I was going to face something that usually made me more anxious. The first thing I did was look for a book I knew I wanted – Tom Reynolds‘ brilliant “Blood Sweat and Tea”. I had been waiting to get it from Amazon, (with something else to qualify for free shipping) but I needed to buy a book for my therapy, and this was going to be it. Tom might be amused to learn that he’s had a little bit of community psychiatric input, there! I found it (in amongst the biographies, not on the 3 for 2 tables as it should be) and asked Mr D if there was anything he wanted so we could take advantage of the 3 for 2 offer. As we both looked around, I found myself inadvertantly looking at the till area. I was already gauging what was going on there. I realised that I’d also been looking around to see how busy it was and whether there was anyone or anything that was going to make my anxiety worse. I was so acutely aware of it, that I suddenly smiled to myself. Sometimes, this is like looking in from the outside…
Mr D chose a book (I can’t even remember what) and I was pleased to see the classics were included in the 3 for 2 offer, so I picked up HG Wells’ “The Time Machine“. Our local Waterstones isn’t very wide, so I instructed Mr D to stand where he was, which was about 18 feet away from the till on the opposite side of the store. He was close enough, but I was doing this on my own. At the till, a young mum with a pushchair was being served (why do mums think that pushchairs don’t take upany room, and park their ‘wheels’ horizontally?) and had a small girl in tow, who was pirouetting round the pole that holds the “please queue here” sign. In a way, I was pleased someone else was being served – it meant that I could do the whole queueing part of this exercise. My focus was on the mum and her kids – I didn’t want to trip the little girl up, nor did I want to be run over by the pushchair. Another assistant beckoned me over to the till, and I went through the motions. Put my books down, got out my purse, watched her scan them and say “that’s £14.98, please”. Handed her my debit card, and obeyed the instruction to put it in the card reader myself. (As an aside here, I wish shops would make their sodding minds up – either take the card from the customer, or all of them become almost self service. It drives me nuts when you hold out your card and they give you this “oh, no – you do it” thing. What happened to customer service?) To be fair on the girl, she was pleasant and smiling, asked if I wanted the receipt in the bag, which I did, and she waited for me to put my purse away, then handed me the bag with a smile.
There. That was easy. Maybe too easy? Maybe I should have done this on Saturday when there’s more likely to be a queue to contend with, and more people. But, as they say, I have to take baby steps. Two things have come to mind while writing this – firstly, I didn’t get flustered when she waited for me to put my purse away. Usually, I can’t organise my bag so that my purse slips down to the bottom, I’ll just stuff it in my pocket or take my goods and sort my purse out later. Secondly, I’m a sod for saving the environment, and always have a roll-up bag with me. For the first time in ages, it never occurred to me to say, “I don’t need a bag, thanks” – and I feel a tad ashamed.
However, Part One of my ‘homework’ is done. Because of the fact that Mr D works during the day and there’s no daytime opportunity to do this again before my next appointment with J, we have decided to wander into Borders book store during the week. It is at a large retail park nearby, and open late in the evenings.
Now all I have to do is think of some more books I want…

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