Disruption of the Mind

So TfL have foiled my weekend plans yet again with their engineering works at Twickenham meaning no trains departing from the station for the second consecutive weekend in a row. Either this means that the fans of the funny-shaped ball should be more grateful that the boys are pulling overtime on a Sunday to make sure the station is suitably beautified before next year’s Rugby World Cup, or I should be face-palming myself for not learning from last week’s mistakes.

Anyway, it occurred to me that engineering works, like the ones taking place at Twickenham, are quite tiring for those of us that have to endure their oar-sticking into our plans. I have compared travel-associated inconveniences with depression before, and guess what? I’m going to do it again.

I find rail strikes and engineering works loathsome. When something happens out of the ordinary to interrupt my journey, it can be hard to deal with, because, let’s face it, when everything is hunky-dory and things are running smoothly, everybody is happy because it makes life so much easier.

As you know, I suffer with depression, and at times, my mind will go on strike, and refuse to provide the services it should, such as returning phone calls to those who care about me. Other times, I will make that call, but the flow of tears make it hard to get anything sensible out of me other than a steady flow of negativity. Don’t my family and friends get fed up with that? Don’t they get a sense of dread when they hear the stony silence in my voice, or the sound of the quivering lip that is holding back the tears?

The answer is yes, I’m sure they do. But because they love me, and because they really have no choice other than to wait for the strike to be called off, or for the engineering works to be complete, they listen, and they take the Jodie Replacement Service that is offered in the wake of the real me.

Like rail interruptions, Jodie interruptions promise to cause havoc for much time to come. But the next time I see a Rail Replacement Bus heading over the bridge, rather than getting mad, I’ll do what my family and friends do: accept it as a fact of life and know that normal services will be resumed shortly.


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