Missing out

Another evening at rehearsal, during which we run the second act in its entirety.

The whole cast is present, and I feel slightly nervous. But it is a normal nervousness - nothing like the crippling panic and anxiety which assail me periodically in the workplace. And once we get started, I feel completely at ease and everything flows fairly comfortably.

There are some very witty and clever people appearing in this play. But they have stronger nerves than I, as many are still working from the book and opening night is not very far away....

After the rehearsal ends, I do my usual Cinderella act - calling "byyeeee!" to everyone else as they head down to the bar and I rush off to catch my train. Arriving at my destination I exit the station wearing my iPod.

A chip flies past my shoulder.

Wha...??

I turn to see husband and Mike (another member of our support group), who have been standing waiting for me; and whom I have managed neither to see, nor to hear.

It is a lovely surprise, and we all stand eating chips and chatting for about twenty minutes. They have both been to a meeting of our support group. I have a service position with this group, but for the past three weeks I have had to hand it over to someone else because I am working on the play.

Husband and Mike say the meeting tonight was amazing - funny, powerful, moving. Husband says the sense of camaraderie was overwhelming. Later that night my young friend Leslie rings, and she too tells me how wonderful she found the meeting. I tell her I wish I had been there.

I used to feel afraid I might miss out on the best of what life had to offer - that I had to stay up late; and hang around with this group or that; and go to this bar or this club; or I wasn't really living.

I didn't realise that eventually I would find what I was looking for by sitting in church halls, community centres and mental hospitals. Listening to other people talking.