Hannah hadn’t exactly had things easy. She only knew her Dad, Mom left before she was old enough to remember, and he wasn’t exactly a shining role model. He was kind of a drunk, constantly unemployed and a bit abusive at times. We were friends for a couple of years before we dated and she was always a bit quiet and withdrawn. I asked her about this a few times in a naive way, and as such she never told me.

Then, when we were dating, I found out about her Dad and that she had, at times, self-harmed a bit. It worried me and I asked various people about it and related conditions but she would have none of it. I was that fist kind of person back then. Skipping ahead a little, we broke up. God damn that was messy! Not going into details, for now, but it was a mess and I knew she started harming again.

It was then that I found out some more about her “home� life. Again I’ll skip over some details but she’d been taken advantage of a couple of times, if you get my meaning. At this point I go pro-active and told some adults about my worries. She was blind furious with me for about a year afterwards because I’d betrayed her trust.

tsmoha wrote:
I prefer Natalie P over Zooey D (no offense, Mre)...

However just before I left school to join Node4 we had a long chat about things and she opened up to me. Not fully though, but enough for me to feel comfortable and know she forgave me. I’d taken the action that other friends of hers would not and that a random person just would not notice. My choice had completely changed her life and given her a new purpose.

What she never told me, what she never told anyone, was that not long after we broke up she tried to kill herself. It wasn’t a broken heart but that she felt alone and unloved. The abuse and troubles that plagued her for years got too much. Then she come down here on “holiday� and jumped.

When she finished school Hannah decided to move out here, to keep reminding herself that things can always get better and that she has a purpose. So when she was crossing the bridge there was no second thought in her mind, she was going to talk to that person on the edge. Then once she knew it was me she decided that talking wasn’t enough. She decided to get pro-active and intervene. I was not going to jump, and that was that.

TheManxMissile wrote:
@Mre- If it helps i wasn't going to do it until tsmoha pointed it out and now it's just an excuse to look her up... And just in time for the monthly award as well

Hannah offered to let me stay at hers for a bit while I got myself back together. She knew how hard it was and wanted to help me stay on the right path and the best way to start that off was by giving me somewhere to stay. She’d been there before and after her work in talking me down she was not going to let that go to waste. It was a simple arrangement; if I was to stay with her I just had to help out by keeping the flat clean and doing the cooking.

Even with her support those first couple of days were rough. I wasn’t completely on the edge but I was still depressed. I cleaned the flat totally almost every day to keep myself busy and would spend the evening cooking for a couple of hours before crashing with Hannah by the TV. She never pressed me for any information or conversation, which I appreciated. I was just not ready to start that process yet.

It was about a week before things changed. Hannah brought home a bundle of leaflets and flyers for local therapists and support groups. Clearly I wasn’t going to be left alone to recover, but I did not want to go through this. I instantly made myself clear; I was not going to get help. I wasn’t going to be patronised by a shrink or a group of do-gooders. Last time I opened up to someone it ruined me and I was not going to let that happen again.

It was only a week or two later when things went south again. We had been watching one of the local football matches on TV when the channel switched over to cover the TDU. This was my first exposure to cycling since the Time Trial and first look at the pro circuit since July. I asked Hannah to change channel but she wouldn’t. I kept asking but she kept refusing. In the end I stormed off and collapsed into bed.

All night I dreamt of cycling. My career played out for what seemed like days in my dreams culminating with my ban. That was when Hannah woke me up and told me I’d been moaning and talking in my sleep. For her that was it, either I went to get some professional help or she’d kick me back out onto the street.

I was torn. I knew she wouldn’t just waste her effort like that, but equally I was still uneasy about the idea. In the end it wasn’t much of a choice though. I reluctantly agreed to go see a Therapist for a couple of sessions to see if it helped. At the least I owed Hannah that much, and it might do me some good.

Every waiting room across the world is exactly the same. That just off-white color paint on the wall combined with a floor that could do with a clean. At least one-year old magazines on a side table between chairs you havn’t seen since school. A bored receptionist sits to one side answering the phone that only ever rings twice. Once you spend more than ten minutes in a room like this anyone can develop depression.

This was only to keep Hannah happy. She’d done so much for me these last few weeks, let alone saving my life. For her it’s not about that, for her it’s about repaying a debt. I stepped in and protected her before and now she is trying to save me. I don’t feel that way though. This is my third session now with Dr. Aritza. He’s a complete quack!

Ok part of it could be because I won’t properly cooperate with his methods. He doesn’t want to talk to me and understand why I’m there. He wants to look deeper to a more fundamental problem, which isn’t there. He’s so bad he doesn’t even know that I drink, but I’ll keep up the charade for the time being.

I have appointments with Aritza twice a week now. Or at least I’m supposed to. Hannah drops me off and I go to walk up the steps, but as soon as she drives off I turn and head away. I walk down to the seafront and sit on the seawall and watch the waves for a couple of hours. Aritza would have me sit and do some bull crap exercise to “open my mind to the past�, but just sitting quietly is much better.

For a couple of hours each week I just sit and relax to the sounds of the ocean. For those hours each week I can fee up my mind and the whole wold can melt away. The background noises of the town fade away as I drift silently across the landscape. Nothing specifically catches my focus in that time as I let the images just roll across my consciousness.

Cycling, the Bridge, Phil, Lucy and Mum all take their turn in the centre of my head but it never gets me down. Is it helping me? Hard to say really. The fresh air and relaxation helps the depression yes but it’s not getting deep to real causes and emotions I’ve buried. And of course lying to Hannah doesn’t make me feel any better.