Well I did it.   I managed to get into an elevator.  After years of avoiding them and fearing them.  I walked straight into a tiny little metal box held by cables in an internal shaft.  I went down two floors and then back up two floors.   On my own.   It took maybe only a couple of minutes but it felt like forever.    When I think about it even now it sends shivers down my spine.   When I got out at the top I cried.   Mostly from sheer relief that I had done it and got through it, but also with frustration that I was still so very afraid.  

Even though I managed to overcome my fear of getting into the lift I was still terrified once I was inside.  How\'s that?   I even went on to another place with a different elevator and got in it again.   This was worse – the doors scraped shut to the sound of clunking metal and then nothing happened.   My heart lurched as I thought \'this is it, I am trapped now and there\'s no way out\'.   I pressed the button three, maybe four times before anything happened but eventually, thankfully, the metal box began to move upwards.    I had to get out at the top to recover and catch my breath and although it was the last thing on earth that I wanted to do I got back in the damn thing and went down to the ground floor where my therapist was waiting.

It was hell.  And yet for most people it is a mere trifle.   A quick and easy way to get from one place to another without having to exert yourself.   I\'m supposed to go away now and practice going in lifts for the rest of the week until I meet with my therapist again.   I\'m not sure if I can do it.   It scares me more than ever now.  I think I may have pushed my self too far. 

What is wrong with the stairs anyhow?

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