Goosebumps crawl across my skin.
My mind skips to my younger self, wondering if she’d be proud of me for making it here as a twenty-two-year-old. Into the middle of a Queen Ego crowd again.
My first attempt to see them live when I was fourteen went just about as badly as it could have. From missing the support act because of my uncontrollable hyperventilating, to leaving the venue before Queen Ego even stepped on stage. All because I believed something terrible and irreversible was happening to my body. It turns out, of course, that it was a panic attack.
And the panic attacks continued.
One thing about being bullied badly from a young age is that you’re essentially forced to grow up in a world that feels inherently unsafe. The very act ofexistingfelt dangerousfor so many years that hyper-vigilance became intimately acquainted with my central nervous system, and panic became a part of my life.
I punished myself for years afterwards that I’d missed my chance to see my favourite band in person. To hear live the music that held me up. And due to the band being Canadian andrarely touring for their modest (but very passionate) fanbase, I didn’t think I would get the opportunity to see them live ever again.
I certainly never pictured myself at Firecrest Festival, but when I saw Queen Ego listed on the line-up I stood up so suddenly my chair hit the floor. It didn’t take me long to make a decision: I had to be there.
Of course, it struck me shortly after that not only would I have to navigate large crowds at one of the busiest events that currently exists, but I would also have to stand directly within one in order to watch the band I loved so fiercely. And I didn’t want to just stand at the back and observe. I wanted to be part of it. And didn’t I deserve to be? I decided that I owed it to myself to at least try.
I had been seeing my therapist, Daphne, for around a year at that point about my panic attacks, and we immediately laid out a plan of action so I could feel slightly more comfortable inside my own personal hell.
And so the work began. Months of tears and stress and panic and easing myself into new spaces, step by step.
The more I struggled, the more I learned about how to cope with my own body. And I learned this: I don’t want panic attacks to control my life anymore.
If I can make it through this… maybe I can prove that they don’t.
I can prove that I’m the one in control of my own life; maybe it would even serve as proof that I can manage my body and my mind for long enough to do something meaningful.Memorable. Something that really matters to me. Nights in with my family, playing video games with my little brother, Jamie, and lying on Brighton beach with Hennie make my life what it is – peaceful, joyful, easy. It’s not lost on me how lucky I am to have that.
But today? Maybe it’s greedy of me, but I want to experience something extraordinary.
I need to experience this – to see their faces and sing along with the fanbase I’ve been a part of for so much of my life. And my younger self had yearned for thissodesperately. I owe it to her.
My phone buzzes, delivering a string of messages from my mum all at once.
How are you feeling sweetheart? You’ll be okay! Xxxx
Hope you’re doing alright? Please message me xxx
Please give me a ring when you can. We love you lots Xxx
Are you getting these messages?
And then another:
Don’t worry darling, you can ignore these. We just spoke to Hennie. Enjoy it! We love you so much, ring if you need us xxxx
I press my lips together, feeling guilty for worrying her and that Hennie needed to step in.
‘Thank you for speaking to my mum,’ I say. ‘Sorry, my phone is useless here.’
She waves a hand easily. ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just Suze being Suze. I calmed her down,’ she says with a smirk.
‘Calming down the Hartleys is becoming a bit of a full-time role,’ I note.
‘Best job I’ve ever had, mate,’ she says with a shrug. ‘Even with the shit pay.’
I loudly plant a kiss on top of her head.
As anticipation swells in the crowd, more and more crowns and tiaras appear around us. My eyes catch on a t-shirt with a much older logo on it next to me, and I’m so impressed (and envious) that I don’t notice I’m gawping at it until the owner turns and fixes me with a look so steely I fear my body has temporarily turned to stone. Icy blue eyes lock onto my green for a moment, hastily broken when a fan in front of us screams at the top of his lungs,‘Ego!’ My heart jumps into my throat at the suddenness of it, my hands leaping to my chest.
Other crowd members follow suit, punching the air as the crowd rises into a crescendo of excited cheers. The man next to me forgotten, I let the echo of screams wash over my back, my heart thundering against my ribs.
