Back in time!

Many years ago I had massive issues with time. I still do to a certain extent, but it is nothing compared to how it used to be. Brad would probably disagree, given that he has to deal with my time-related quirks now, but he did not know me twenty years ago when it was at its worst.

I hated being late. I still do. But back then I would arrive an hour and a half early for things and sit in the car reading, or drive around the area being nosy. I would never drive too far for fear of getting stuck in traffic or getting lost. If I was late for anything, I would be wracked with guilt and continue to apologise long after they had told me it was fine.

I hated other people being late too. I took it as a slight on our relationship, business or personal. If they contacted me to say they would be late, that was fine. Even if the excuse was simply "I forgot", that was still fine. I just needed to know.

I hated things running over without a reasonable explanation. If a meeting was booked from 1pm to 2pm and we were still there at 2.30pm, I would be having a complete meltdown internally. Outwardly I would be jittery, sometimes actually shaking. I was a mess.

If I had to be at work for nine, I would be up at six, showered and dressed by seven, then sit and watch television until half past eight.

My problem got so bad that one day, while out, I looked down to discover my watch had stopped. I went into shock. I literally could not function without knowing the time. I got home and my partner at the time could see the state I was in. When I explained, he gave me his watch. I was now wearing two watches. Instantly, I was calm. It was like a wave of peace flooded over me.

From that day on, that was the answer. Two watches. I wore two watches all the time. I put conditions in place when buying a new one. They had to be waterproof. One had to be analogue, the other digital. In my bag or pocket, I had to carry a third in case one of the two I was wearing stopped or broke. All of them had to be within five minutes of the correct time and each other.

It worked. I was happy. I never had another panic attack over a broken or stopped watch. And I was never late.

About two years after my meltdown, I was invited to a wedding in Spain. My ex, who had given me his watch that night, was also invited. We had stayed good friends. I was thrilled when he asked if I wanted to travel with him and share a hotel room. "At least I will be on time for the flights if I travel with you," he said laughing. He was one of the few people I did not mind laughing at my issue.

So off we went. The wedding was great. We had booked to stay for the week afterwards to have a bit of a holiday.

Lying on the beach, Derek convinced me to take my watches off and put them in my bag. "You do not want white lines in your tan, do you?" he said. He was right. Off they came. Into the bag they went. The bag was right next to me. If I needed the time, I had three watches I could reach in and look at.

After a few hours of baking in the glorious sun, we went for a swim. We had met a group of other holidaymakers the night before, and they were in the water playing volleyball. We joined them, even though I was terrible at it. Eventually I wanted to dry off, so I headed back to my towel.

My bag was gone. All that was left on it was some sun cream, about a thousand pesetas, a book and a hand towel. And my three watches.

I lost it. Right there on the beach, I completely lost it. My towel was still there, so I sat on it and sobbed and rocked. Derek could see the state I was in and came running out of the water. His bag had gone too, but his concern was me. He was not wearing a watch, so he could not give me his. It took him a while to calm me down.

We walked back to the hotel, got dressed and headed into town. I bought three new watches. Cheap, nasty things that did the job. Derek bought another four or five and said he would keep them with him, just in case. It was only as I put the third watch into my new bag that I felt calm again. And even then, it was not quite right. I was ashamed of the state I had got into.

When we returned home, Derek made enquiries about therapy. Before long, at his expense, I was having sessions with a hypnotherapist. We explored the reasons behind my obsession, which we never actually uncovered, and developed new coping mechanisms. After a few months, I was, for want of a better word, cured.

I wore only one watch from that point on. I was still not late for things, but it was now about common courtesy and respect rather than a compulsion. I was still occasionally early, but by ten minutes rather than an hour and a half. If a meeting ran over, I had a "so what?" attitude.

I have been fine ever since. I am still early for a lot of things, like flights and appointments, but it is more about not wanting to miss anything than about being a nutter.

I still collect watches. I have hundreds. But now it is because I like them as a nice piece of jewellery, not as a security blanket.

This morning as I left for work, I put my watch on. Then I put on a second one. There is a third in my bag.

It feels right.