The Moth Radio Hour: Not for the Faint of Heart

moth is supported by AstraZeneca.

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Genetic conditions like HATTR shouldn't dominate our stories.

Thanks to the efforts of AstraZeneca, there are treatment options so more patients can choose the legacies they share.

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From PRX, this is the Moth Radio Hour.

I'm Meg Bowles.

In this hour, we bring you four stories, all dealing with fear, phobias, and sleepless nights, from mild anxiety to true terror.

Some of this fear is rational and some seemingly irrational, but for these storytellers, it's all very real.

Our first story comes from Jessica Pan.

She shared her story at an evening we produced at the Union Chapel in London.

Here's Jessica, live at the moth.

So it was a normal day like any other.

I woke up and I went to my favorite cafe and I got a cup of coffee.

And while I was waiting in line for the coffee, I turned to my left and there was this box.

And it was filled with these little buttons.

And I was curious, so I picked one up and I read it.

And it said, I talk to strangers.

And I immediately threw the button back down because I didn't want anyone to see me holding that.

I didn't want them to think that I wanted them to talk to me.

Because I have a huge fear of talking to strangers, and I never do it.

I think you you should talk to a stranger if

your phone is broken and you're in an unfamiliar neighborhood and you've broken your leg and there's like a sudden tornado and only if all of these things happen at once.

Otherwise, don't do it.

And I moved to London about six years ago from Beijing.

And I was super excited to get here because England has all this green space, but it also has all this personal space.

And when I got to London,

I liked that it was kind of a cold city and that people kept to themselves.

You know, it's the kind of place where you can be walking down the street and fall down and nobody will bat an eye because

they're too embarrassed for you and they just don't want to get involved.

And I felt like, these are my people, like I found them.

I identify as an introvert and I felt quite shy and I just feel like you don't need to talk to strangers.

But that day with that button, I thought, why don't I talk to strangers ever?

You know, we live in a city of almost 9 million and I try to avoid all of them on public transport.

And I think, maybe I'll just wear this button and see what happens.

And so I take the button and I sort of slip it in my pocket and I leave.

And a few days later, I'm with my husband and I'm wearing the button and it's this beautiful sunny day in London and we're cycling and we're in this park.

And this man walks up to me and he starts like talking to me.

And I'm kind of like, okay, what?

And he just gives gives me this really disappointed look, and he says, oh, so it's not true.

And that's when I realized I'd been wearing the button, and he saw it, and I'd forgotten, and he leaves before I can say anything to him.

And this happens again and again throughout the day.

And this whole time, my husband, who was English, had been watching, and he just said, could you please just take the button off?

Like, this is humiliating.

Just take the button off.

And I agreed, like, I sort of failed.

So I took the button off and I thought, you you know, I tried it, experiment over.

And I was then on a plane from New York to London.

And I did that thing where you find your seat and you put your headphones in and you sort of make your own space so that nobody talks to you.

And you give that vibe of like, we're going to sit by each other for seven hours, but like we're not going to talk to each other.

And this was fine because the two men who were sitting next to me, they turned to each other to chat.

And I was sort of eavesdropping.

And I noticed that they were talking about, you know, where they were from, and then they were showing each other photos on their phones and they were talking about their girlfriends and then they were comparing barbecue recipes and by the time we landed at Heathrow one had invited the other one to his birthday party

and I was completely baffled by this like I had never seen this happen before and I started thinking Is this what I'm missing by not talking to strangers?

Like, am I missing out on really good barbecue recipes and birthday parties?

And so I decided, you know, maybe I could try this again and so my first day of trying to talk to strangers I walk up to this woman at the bus stop and she sort of feels me and coming towards her and she turns away because she thinks I'm deranged

and then I get on the bus and it's about 830 in the morning I'm going to work and I sit next to another woman and she's on her phone playing Candy Crush and I'm looking at her phone and I'm thinking about what I can say to her.

You know, we live in the same area.

We're both going to work.

And while I'm thinking this, she looks at me, looking at her phone, and she shoots me this really dirty look.

I just abandon the whole mission.

And I just think, I don't know if I can do this.

And I get off, and I just think, I'm just gonna go get a cup of coffee and figure this out.

And I walk into another cafe I go to a lot, and I'm about to order my coffee, and I see that there's a new barista there.

And I say, Oh, you're new.

When did you start working here?

And he says, Three years ago.

And I sort of take my coffee and I skulk away and I realize that I need help.

I'm a journalist and so I do have to talk to some strangers, but it's under the guise of a job and so I can make myself do it.

But also as a journalist, you get to call up experts if you don't know about a certain subject.

And so I decided I would call an expert.

And so I call up this man named Stefan who lives in Boston.

And he specializes in curing people of phobias, including social anxiety.

And he tells me that the best way that he's found of curing people of social anxiety is to have them humiliate themselves again and again.

And that is so that they can see that they don't get arrested and their spouses don't leave them and they don't get fired and nobody exiles them.

And they survive.

They just look a little bit silly.

And

he says, well, sometimes I have a really shy person stand in the street and sing.

Or I'll have another one go into the New York subway and ask hundred people for $400.

Like your basic nightmare scenarios.

And I say to Stefan, what would you prescribe me?

And he says, okay, so you're scared of talking to strangers and you're a little bit shy and you live in London, so I would have you ask strangers a really stupid question.

And he says, here's your question, and you can only say these words and nothing else.

Excuse me, I just forgot, is there a Queen of England and if so, what is her name?

And he says that, you know, when I decide to do this, I can't, you know, just pick like friendly grandmas or, you know, people holding puppies and babies because that's called safety behavior and I won't actually cure my fear.

And as soon as I hang up the phone with Stefan, I think, thank God he's not my therapist, and I do not have to do this, because that would be terrible.

And a few days later, I'm having lunch, and I hear this voice in my ear, and it's a man, and he says, do you mind if I sit here?

And I say, sure, go ahead.

And he takes a seat, and I'm looking at him, and I'm thinking, this is my chance.

You know, I can do this.

And he puts his phone away finally, and I just ask him where he's from, and he says, France.

And I say the first thing that pops in my head, which is, of course, are you offended by Brexit?

And

it wasn't my best work, but I hadn't really thought through what I'd actually say to these people when I finally talked to them.

But the conversation recovers, and we have sort of a nice chat, and I leave feeling kind of good about it.

And from then on, for the next few weeks, I start talking to strangers, you know, a little bit small talk.

I talk to people on the bus about the weather, or I'll talk to people who have dogs in the park, or

grandmas and their grandchildren.

These things that I know Stefan would say are safety behavior.

And that's because whenever I have these interactions, I still feel that little feeling of trepidation that I'm still scared of talking to people that I don't know.

And I know the only way to cure this.

And

so I'm standing on an underground platform and I'm feeling really nervous and I don't want to do what I'm supposed to do and I don't think I can.

And finally I just decide to take the plunge.

I'm just going to do it.

And so I flag down the first man I see when I decide.

And he stops and I say, excuse me, I just forgot.

And he looks at me and he goes, yes.

And I say, is there a Queen of England?

And if so, what is her name?

And he raises his eyebrows and he goes, the Queen of England.

And I say, yes.

Who is she?

And he goes, it's Victoria.

And he gets on the train and he leaves.

And of all the scenarios I had ever imagined, this was not one of them.

And I'm so confused that I immediately flag down the next person I see, which is another man in his 20s carrying a gym bag.

And I say, excuse me, I just forgot.

Is there a Queen of England?

And if so, what is her name?

And he says, it's Victoria.

He gets on the train and he leaves.

And at this point, I am so confused.

And

I'm just thinking, does anyone know who the Queen of England is?

Do I know who the Queen of England is?

And finally, I recover and I ask four women in a row, and they each tell me, Elizabeth.

And, you know, some of them laugh and some of them think I'm a bit strange.

And one asks if I'm okay.

But,

you know, none of them arrested me or, you know, my husband didn't leave me.

I wasn't fired from my job.

I survived.

And I don't know what was going on with those men who were subjects of Queen Victoria.

I don't know if they were confused or if it's like a rule in England where if an American asks you a really dumb question, you have to lie to her.

Probably.

But

you know, after that experiment, I realized that Stefan was right.

You know, I haven't been completely cured of my social anxiety, but doing that experiment made me feel exhilarated.

And now when I'm on the tube or the train, I do try to talk to strangers because I think it's nice.

And that means that if you see me, I'm coming for you.

And

we might have a chat, but I promise we'll both survive.

Thank you.

Jessica Pan is still writing and living in London.

She's the author of the book, Sorry I'm Late, I Didn't Want to Come, One Introvert's Year of Saying Yes.

She told me she still has the I Talk to Strangers button sitting on her nightstand to remind her that people can be kind even if they are being idiots on public transport.

She's never worn the button again, but she still works up the nerve to talk to strangers.

You can find out more about Jessica on our website, themoth.org.

Coming up, a high anxiety trip down a British motorway when the Moth Radio Hour continues.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by PRX.

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This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX.

I'm Meg Bowles.

Our next story of fear and anxiety comes from Nick Revell.

And I just want to mention two quick things that might cause confusion for people who live outside of Great Britain.

Nick mentions an Embassy Regal, which is a mid-priced British cigarette brand.

And he refers to the Docklands, which is a riverfront area in London, formerly part of the Port of London that was closed in the 1960s and went through urban redevelopment in the 1980s.

Here's Nick Revel, live at Union Chapel in London.

So it's 1988 and I'm driving home from a gig up north.

Can't remember exactly where it was, somewhere in the northwest, because I'm coming down the M6

and I decide to pull off at Keel Services to get a coffee.

And as I'm walking in, there's a scouser hanging around by the doorway of the services.

And for any foreigners who don't know what Scouser is, it's a slang word for people from Liverpool.

It's not got any pejorative connotations at all, except in the mind of prejudiced people.

But I have to confess that when the specific scouser in question is standing outside a motorway services at two in the morning wearing just a t-shirt and jeans and it's February and he's not shivering and he's got a tattoo of a dotted line around his neck with cut here and a pair of scissors over his jugular vein,

it can conjure up the odd negative connotation

even in a non-prejudiced person.

And he says, excuse me, mate, any chance of a lift to London?

And I think, yeah, right.

And I go in and I have a coffee and something to eat and half an hour later I come out and

what were the chances this scouser still hasn't found somebody to give him a lift.

And he says to me, excuse me, mate, any chance of a lift to London?

And I don't want to give him a lift, if I'm being honest.

But I want to be polite to him.

I want to say no to him in such a way that he will still like and respect me.

Ideally, what I want to be able to do is to go back to my car and drive past him

in my nice car with the three empty seats and the heater and the stereo.

And as he stands there in the pissing rain in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night with no money I want to watch him I want him to watch me going past going to exactly where he's going to go wants to go and I want him to say to himself there goes a really nice bloke

And I'm trying to think of a polite way of doing this, you know, and I realize that I can't lie to him.

I could have said, oh, I'm sorry, I'm turning off at the next exit, but that only occurred to me to say it last

I realize that I can't lie to this guy.

I realize in retrospect, I can only lie to people who I love and I really care for.

So I'm stuttering and I, oh well, and he says, only the thing is, if I can get to Docklands by 8 o'clock in the morning, I've got this job on a building site.

Oh no, because it's 1988.

Britain is a divided country.

The southeast, the economy is thriving and booming everywhere else in the country.

Massive unemployment.

They call it the north-south divide.

And Docklands is the icon of the whole thing.

The government of the time are just deregulating the financial industry and they're building a whole new financial district in Docklands and Canary Wharf.

And the theory is that deregulated financial services along with cutting taxes for the wealthy will make the wealthy even more wealthy and then they will spend their money and through the trickle-down theory everyone in the country in a few brief years will share in that prosperity and become richer themselves.

Anyway.

So he's thrown this shot straight into my social conscience.

I'm skewered on this remark.

The north-south divide is now actually happening to me.

I mean I agonize about the unemployment figures every morning when I read about them in The Guardian

but now somebody wants me to actually do something about it.

But I'm a liberal.

Action wasn't in the mission statement.

I've made polemical and passionate tarades against the iniquities of this government social policies in some of the most expensive restaurants in the west end of London.

Isn't that enough?

And then I think to myself, of course I should give this guy a lift.

I should trust him.

What is a society without trust?

I should give him a lift.

So I say to him, yeah, sure, I'll give you a lift, mate.

I'm parked just over here.

He goes, oh, great.

Eh, there's me two mates as well, like.

These two bigger scouses with similar tattoos come out of the shadows I'd actually already noticed them I just thought they were trees

and I'm feeling really nervous there's no way out I'm walking towards the car with them and I'm thinking okay it's okay they're probably okay but if any trouble starts just give them the keys immediately and you won't get hurt In fact, give them the keys now, ask if you can have a lift with them.

So we get to the car, the Fiat Uno, we open the boot and we get in their bags.

They're carrying bags of tools.

They have builders, they have bricklayers' trowels and chisels.

One of them's carrying a HOD.

We get the bags in the back and as they're loading the bags into the back, I can see that they've got rather amateur tattoos on their knuckles and hands.

I'm thinking, prison tattoos?

It's okay, Nick, they're not in prison now.

So we get the bags into the back and then the HOD we put in over the rear seats and slide it down the side of the passenger seat, which is the hatchback feature of the Fiat Uno really comes into its own.

And we get into the car and we're driving off.

And I'm driving down the slip road faster than I normally do because I want to get up to 40 or 50 as fast as possible.

Because I'm thinking, if we're traveling at that speed, they can't possibly do anything.

And then I'm thinking to myself, calm down, Nick.

They say they're builders, they got tools of the trade in the back.

And the paranoid part of me is thinking, yeah, tools of the trade, they're going to beat me unconscious with a chisel and a bricklayer's trowel, and then for a coup de grace, they're going to smash me over the head with the hod and leave me in a shallow grave with a triangular head.

And it's bound to be a shallow grave.

They're builders.

They'll never dig it to the correct specifications.

Calm down, Nick.

You'll be okay.

And we're talking.

They're asking me questions.

I'm asking them questions.

What bands we like, where we've been on holiday, what we've done since we left school, turns out I was right about the prison tattoos.

We're talking the universal male language of football, discussing which games we've been to, where crowd trouble has got as far as the news.

They beat me by a long chalk on that one.

And we're chatting away.

And to be honest, I can't remember much of the conversation, partly because I was nervous and my life was for some reason flashing in front of my eyes.

But it must have been a friendly conversation because the journey went in no time, 200 miles down the motorway, and bang, we're in London, come off the M1 onto the North Circular.

And suddenly, the first traffic light for 200 miles and it's turning red.

We're slowing down, and I'm thinking, oh boy, we're slowing down at the lights.

Don't be stupid, Nick.

It's okay.

If they wanted to roll you, they'd have done it in the car park.

And we pull up at this red light, and the guy who's sitting in the front pulls a knife out of his pocket and holds it up to my face.

Well, actually, it was an embassy regal, but for a moment,

it really looked like a knife.

I smoked that cigarette so fast.

So we're driving into town.

I'm saying, guys, I live in Holloway.

I live in North London.

Docklands is a real dog leg for me, and I'm really tired.

I can't take you all the way out there.

But what I will do, I'll take you into the centre of town.

I'll take you to Trafalgar Square.

All the night buses in London go through Trafalgar Square.

There's London Transport staff there.

They'll tell you which bus to get on.

You'll have no problem.

Get into Docklands by eight in the morning.

We're driving down the hay market, and I'm really glad I've given these guys a lift.

You know, I'm really glad they've given me the company and the conversation has made the journey go quicker.

But if I'm being honest, I'm still only going to be 100% relaxed when they are actually out of the car.

We're coming down the Haymarket, just pulling into Trafalgar Square, and the biggest of them, who had to sit in the back because the seatbelt wouldn't stretch around his torso, he sort of leans in like in a mafia movie and goes, So you're thinking of dropping us in Trafalgar Square, are you?

I'm thinking, oh no, I see it all now.

Of course they weren't going to roll me in the car park.

They're from Liverpool.

I've read about them in the Daily Mail.

They're too lazy to do all the driving to London.

They're going to let me do all the work, and this is where they're going to take the car.

Why didn't I just say to them politely in the car park, sorry, I don't trust you because you're poor, but in a nice way.

Anyway, we pull up in front of the National Gallery, and I say to the guy, Well, yeah, I'm going to drop you in Trafalgar Square.

Have you got a problem with that?

He said, Yeah, I've got a problem with that.

What problem?

It's four o'clock in the morning.

Won't it be really dangerous for us in Trafalgar Square?

I said to them, I said, guys,

trust me, you'll be fine.

Thanks.

Nick Revel is a British writer and comedian.

He no longer picks up hitchhikers, mainly because he doesn't have a car anymore.

The fiat uno is long gone.

He says he thinks times have changed.

You hardly see hitchhikers out these days.

He imagines they're probably scared of the drivers.

On our website, you can find out more about Nick and his radio series Broken Dreamcatcher, which aired on BBC Radio 4, and his stage show entitled Eurasia's Most Eligible Psychopaths and Their Lovely Homes.

Our next story comes from Katie Houghton Ward.

She shared it at one of our Open Mic Story Slams down in Melbourne, Australia, where we partner with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, ABCRN.

Here's Katie, live with the mall.

Hi, I've never really done this kind of thing before, but I figure the lights are inspiring.

Well, I'm a mother of two small children, and

after a very hard time and a lot of arguments and a little pain I took my two babies and we moved to Tasmania just me and my babies.

At that time my son was two and a half and my daughter was one and a half and I moved to a mountain in the middle of nowhere pretty much and I was overlooking the sea every morning and I would wake up with these babies and the golden light would come over the ocean and I'd have these two babies and I was looking at my partnership was gone I was looking ahead of me and I was going what the fuck am I going to do and I've got these babies and I was like just smile and and read the book you know like go along with it and I thought I was lying there and I had these two babies on either side of me on a mountain in the middle of nowhere overlooking the ocean and I heard something outside and I thought to myself my god what am I gonna do if there's somebody out there that's gonna come in here and they're gonna they're gonna attack me they're gonna attack my children and what am I gonna I need a man to protect me What am I going to do?

And I thought, I had these two little babies and I gripped them really tight and I thought, I need a man.

I've got to get a man.

I need a man.

And then there was a voice in the back of my head that goes, you don't need a man, mate.

You got this.

And I was like, who's going to protect me?

And the voice in the back of my head said, you are.

And I was like, okay, great.

Resolve.

I've got resolve.

I've got these two babies and determination.

And I walked out the next morning after, you know, my mum who was living far away, she drove over and she watched the baby.

She goes, you need a break.

And I was like, yeah, I'm hearing voices.

And then I walked down the street and there was only a few things that were around.

And there was a fish and chip shop.

And I heard this

really, the sound you'll never hear anywhere was two swords clanging together.

And I thought, is this Highlander?

Am I tripping?

I really need a nap.

It's been a long week.

And then I went there and there was this store and there was knickknacks and everything like that.

And I walked in and there was a man with a long grey beard and he said, g'day.

And I was like, g'day.

And he goes, my name's Ned.

And I was like, hi, Ned.

And he's like, what are you in here for?

And I was like, I heard these swords.

And he goes, oh, yeah.

Yeah, don't worry about that.

And I was like, okay,

I'll just look at some stuff.

And then I kept walking around.

He goes,

why are you curious about the swords?

And I was like, oh, it's just, oh, don't worry, don't worry about it.

And he goes, no, no, no, no, no, just tell me about the swords.

And I was like, well, actually, I've got two little babies.

And, you know, I'm looking for some martial arts or some Aikido or something like that and he's just like he goes how do you feel about sword fighting

and I was like oh

I've seen it on a film it looks pretty good and he was like oh yeah do you reckon you could do it and I was like oh I guess if someone made me do it I guess I could do it and he's like oh yeah and he goes come upstairs

and I was like I was like oh I don't know this is rural Tasmania and I'm like if there's any Tasmanian here I love it it's beautiful and everyone But I was like, oh, I don't know.

And he's like, no, no, no, it's fine.

It's fine.

It's fine.

And I was like, okay, so I'm gingerly walking up the stairs behind Ned, Lord Ned, and I walk, no kidding, Lord Ned, and I walk up there and it's like the fight club of the Knights Templar.

I am not kidding you.

There are banners with the Knights Templar, and there are 10 big dudes in armor, full-blown armor, fighting each other.

And I'm like, what the f?

And my first thing was just like, okay, I really need a nap.

Parenting is tough.

And then he's like, what do you reckon?

You got it in you?

And I was like, I don't know, Ned.

I kind of don't know what's going on.

And he's like, well, we're a rare faction of the Knights Templar.

And I was like, you're the Knights Templar.

And he's like, yes, we are.

And I was like, had the knights of nick going in my head

I was just like this is not for real so anyway he goes he goes do you want to have crack at it and I was like yeah I'll have a crack at it yeah I'll have a crack at it I was like ferocious I was like I'm gonna protect my kids and then he hands me a sword and then I thought okay he's just gonna make me hit a few bags do things like that and then he calls up three massive men in armor and he goes

get out of and I was like are you kidding and he's like we just want to see how you go that's all.

And I was like, Ned, I know how I'll go.

That's terrifying.

And he's like, no, give it a crack, give it a crack.

I was like, okay.

So these guys are trying to hit me with a sword.

I've got no sword skill set at all.

I'm just like waving it, crying, waving it, crying.

And he's like, you're doing great.

You're doing great.

And I've got a helmet on and it's 35 degrees.

And I'm like padding shirt, sweat dripping down my face.

And there's someone, you can do it in the background.

I'm like, I'm not doing it, I'm not doing it.

And then I go to sit down, and I thought, I can't do it, I can't do it.

And then this big figure stands over me, and they take their helmet off, and these piercing blue eyes hit me, and it's a woman, the only woman in there.

And she goes, get up.

And I was like,

she goes, get up.

And I was like, okay.

So I put my helm back on, I fight and six months later after rigorous training I fought 35 men and I am now a registered Knights Templar man-at-arms

thank you thank you very very very much

and why I have my two babies growing strong and they're five and four now when I hear something outside I open up the door

That was Katie Houghton Ward.

Katie is a comic book artist and a fine artist, and it publishes under the alias Katie Hollywood.

Her work has appeared in Heavy Metal Magazine and Gestalt Comics.

You can find out more about her artwork and see pictures of Katie in all her armored glory at our website, themoth.org.

Was there a time when your fear held you back?

Or a time when you ran straight in and threw caution to the wind?

We'd love to hear it.

You can pitch us a short version of your story on our website, themoth.org.

My name is Aviva Gold.

Here I am, a New York Jewish lady in her 50s, the oldest and most physically unfit person on our trek in the Himalayas of Nepal.

Now on the second night after a day of struggling and falling and being bruised, I'm sobbing outside my tent, having a panic attack, certain I'm going to die here.

Not surprisingly, the organizers planned to send me back to Kathmandu.

But unbeknown to me, our Sherpa tells them he will get me through this trek even if he has to carry me.

Walking behind me, I can feel his love holding me steady.

His determination really carries me through this physical and altitude-demanding process to a surprise triumph.

At the end, my only fear really is going back to civilization.

Remember, you can pitch us your story at themoth.org.

Coming up, Facing Fear, head on when the Moth Radio Hour continues.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented.

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By PRX.

This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX.

I'm Meg Bowles, and our last story comes from Sudesh Dahad.

Sudesh told this story at the Union Chapel in London just a few weeks after a car was driven into a crowded sidewalk on Westminster Bridge.

It was just outside the Palace of Westminster, which is home to the British Parliament.

Four people died, and more than 50 people were injured.

I just want to note that Sudesh's story deals with some intense and frightening situations and may not be appropriate for all listeners.

Here's Sudesh Dahad live at the mall.

So, a few weeks ago, I was sitting at my desk at work

when I overheard a couple of colleagues behind me discussing some breaking news about an incident outside Westminster.

I turned around to ask them what had happened, and they told me that there'd been a suspected terrorist incident there.

As soon as I heard this,

I felt my stomach sink, and I found it difficult to breathe, and

I felt tears welling up.

I couldn't believe what had happened.

At that moment,

a sense of dread took over me and I felt that there was something more to happen.

It didn't feel safe to be in the city, so

even though I was over a mile away from Westminster, I still felt like I was in danger, so I just packed up my bags and left the office and hurried home.

Fear has become an everyday part of my life now and

it doesn't feel like it's something inside me, it feels more like it's something external that follows me in the shadows.

It's not that I'm afraid of death, but I'm more afraid of the consequences of my death for the people that depend on me.

And as a single father, I worry especially what would happen if some to my daughter if something happened to me.

Back in 2005, one morning, I was on my way to work as usual, and my train arrived at the overground station in King's Cross a few minutes later than usual, so I hurried down towards the underground.

When I arrived on the Piccadilly line platform, it was a little bit busier than usual, but

a couple of trains passed and I couldn't board.

They were all already packed, so I waited.

When the third train came along, I just got bundled on

to it, well I was carried forward into the carriage in the surge of the crowd getting onto the train.

When I got on, I was

well, sardines and tin cans came to mind.

It was so busy.

And

the driver tried to close the door a few times, but there were still people clamouring onto the train.

I suppose they overestimated how thin they were, and they were still blocking the doors.

Eventually the driver did manage to close the doors and the train left the station.

After a few seconds I sensed a flash and then the lights went out.

I heard a loud bang and a popping sound and then another popping sound

and

then the train jolted to a halt and I don't know how but I found myself on the floor and without really realising how I I don't know how I got there.

And oddly, suddenly there was lots of space around me.

For a moment I thought it was a nightmare and somebody would wake me from it, from this bad dream.

But then

as I realized it was that it was a

probably a terrorist attack, the blood drained away from my face and

then the next thing I the next thought in my head was that I was probably dead, and

the scene around me was something like some artistic illustrations I'd seen of Dante of

Purgatory and Dante's Inferno.

Under the dim lights of mobile phones, and

all I could see was

some people on the floor, some people standing, and some people in in between.

I could hear some screaming and crying, but it seemed to be in the distance.

I didn't know where it was coming from.

The smell, well, the smell was like the day after Guy Fawkes night,

quite unpleasant.

I felt my head and I felt my limbs, and I realized I was actually still alive.

And in that moment,

the only thought in my head was that

I just need to get home

as quickly as possible and get home to my daughter.

After a few minutes, the driver managed to start passing a message down the carriage saying that we could evacuate through his cabin and walk down to the next station.

So as I got down from the train onto the tracks

the narrow gap between the track narrow and uneven gap between the tracks, I um

still felt a sense of dread because I thought this can't be the end of it, something else is going to happen, or

I'm going to fall over and electrocute myself on the rails or something like that.

Because I didn't know, or none of us knew whether the rails were live or

whether they'd been switched off.

It took us about 10 minutes to walk down the tunnel and reach Russell Square Station.

When we got there, the station staff helped us off the tracks and onto the platform, and then they showed us up the stairs.

The 171 steps up to the top seemed endless, but as I ascended, I felt an increasing sense of relief as we got closer to daylight.

Up at ground level, the station was

inside the station, it was empty because everybody was being kept out of the station for obvious reasons.

But I didn't know what to do, and I because I'd had cuts and bruises and had some blood on me, and I didn't really know whether I was injured and whether I needed medical attention or not, so I waited.

But then, after a while, I saw other people who were much more seriously injured emerging from the staircase, some being carried up,

some being helped up or carried on stretchers.

So, I thought I should probably just move away and let them get attention first.

So the station staff, after a while, they ushered us into the hotel next door and said we'd be more comfortable waiting there.

But then

soon after that, somebody ran in.

I don't know who it was, but they ran in panicking and saying there'd been another explosion and we should all get out.

It made no sense at all because

nobody knew where was safe and where wasn't safe at that time.

So even though it seemed irrational, we all complied with the instructions and ran out, scattering in different directions.

I started running towards King's Cross, and after about fifty yards, I stopped and noticed a couple of other people who looked like they'd been on the same train.

So we got talking, and then we all started heading towards King's Cross together.

One of my fellow survivors was

had a

gash on his head, and another one, she had a gash in her arm and we were all covered in soot and we looked dishevelled.

We were in well our clothes were all bloodstained but amazingly nobody seemed to notice us because we were walking through the busy streets and nobody even gave us a glance.

That was until we got to

just outside Camden Town Hall and then a council worker asked us if we needed some first aid and she said the city was on lockdown so we wouldn't be able to go much further anyway.

The whole of Bloomsbury was inside a police cordon.

So we went inside, and

the staff there gave us some fresh clothes and tea and sandwiches, and we waited in the lounge.

While we were watching TV in the lounge, that was the first we heard of

the other incidents, and the true horror of what had happened on that day started emerging.

After a few hours, we were able to get outside the police cordon, so I made my way to Euston, where my brother was waiting in a car.

So I got into the car and we set off up the A1

towards our hometown.

Once we got beyond Mill Hill and into the Greenbelt just outside London, the sounds of sirens and helicopters stopped, and it was beautifully peaceful.

That evening,

on the first night, the nightmares began, and every time I closed my eyes, the whole scene from the day,

from the morning, replayed in my head, the train pulling out of the station, then a loud bang, then the pop and another pop from the shock waves.

And then I'd find myself waking up with my head and chest bathed in a cold sweat.

Sometimes I'd see this scene even while I was awake.

So

it's just

I felt scared to close my eyes or go to sleep.

I went to my GP a few days later, not knowing how to deal with this, and asked for advice.

But he said that it was too soon to get any help because it takes about two months for the adrenaline levels to return to normal in your body after a physical shock like that.

I wasn't prepared to wait for two months, so after about a week, I heard that an emergency response centre had been set up just near Victoria Station.

So I went along to see what I could find out, try and get some more information and see what help was available.

Some Red Cross ladies invited me to sit down and have a cup of tea and tell my story, say what had happened.

So I did that.

And as I got towards the end of the story,

they

told me that, well, I had thought I was at the opposite end of the train from where the explosion was, they told me that actually the explosion was in my carriage.

And as soon as they said that, I felt a chill down my sp go down my spine.

I went home and I tried to get back to normal as soon as I could and try to work from home for a while, but I couldn't really focus on anything or concentrate.

I couldn't even laugh or smile for weeks.

So I spoke to my HR department and they said, well, we really recommend you take a couple of weeks off on special leave.

So

when I got back I booked a holiday to the Lake District and took my family up there for a week.

On the way up to Lake District in the car, it's about a five-hour car journey,

I kept dreading that anything that could go wrong would go wrong, like maybe somebody crashing into us or

something falling out of the sky or

even concrete blocks being dropped from bridges like some vandals used to in the decade before.

But we got there unharmed and had lots of long walks and good food and I came back with nightmares receding a little bit.

But for years after that I was able to avoid the underground and

preferred to walk or cycle through London whenever I could.

But sometimes the weather didn't permit, so

I'd have to go down and take the tube.

And whenever I did so, I'd feel my heart pounding as I approached the tube and my palms sweating.

And then sometimes I'd

let the trains go, and

it would probably be about two or three trains before I had the courage to board one.

A couple of years ago, I noticed that my daughter was having the same fears as I was, but not for herself, but she was afraid every time I went away, or every time I went on a flight, or the Eurostar particularly, she was worried about what would happen to me.

And I didn't really, you know, I didn't want her to grow up with these thoughts.

And

I felt that something had to change.

We had to take back control of

our lives and stop kind of hiding away from these fears.

But I knew something had to change, but I didn't know how to, because how do you allay your child's fears when you have the same fears yourself?

Then a year ago, my daughter was diagnosed with a long-term stress-related illness, and then I knew that I had to do something.

So people

often tell me how lucky I am to be here today, lucky to be given a second chance, and lucky to be relatively physically unharmed, but not all injuries are visible to the eye.

The truth is,

I don't think the fear will ever escape.

I don't think I'll ever escape from the fear, rather.

And it's always going to be there overshadowing us in the background.

But I know that

I don't want it to dominate, and I know I want to

be affected by that either.

But also, I accept that it is there.

So, sometimes,

especially when events like those of a few weeks ago take place, I know it's okay to have these irrational thoughts and just pack up my bags and go home.

That was Sudesh Dahai.

The attacks in London on July 7th, 2005 targeted commuters during the morning rush hour.

Three bombs were detonated on the underground and a fourth on a double-decker bus.

52 people were killed and more than 700 were injured in the attacks.

Sudesh still works in the finance industry in London as a risk specialist.

He is also trained as as a therapist specializing in the use of sound and sonic vibrations to help heal trauma victims.

You can find out more about Sudesh and all the storytellers you've heard in this hour by visiting our website, themoth.org.

That's it for this episode.

We hope you'll join us again next time for the Moth Radio Hour.

Your host this hour was Meg Bowles.

Meg also directed the stories and the show.

The rest of the Moth's directorial staff includes Catherine Burns, Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Janess, and Jennifer Hickson.

Production support from Emily Couch.

Moth stories are true true as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers.

Our theme music is by The Drift.

Other music in this hour from Blue Dot Sessions and Thomas Bergerson.

You can find links to all the music we use at our website.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by me, Jay Allison, with Vicki Merrick at Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.

This hour was produced with funds from the National Endowment for the Arts.

The Moth Radio Hour is presented by the Public Radio Exchange, PRX, org.

To find out more about our podcast, to get information on pitching us your own story, and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.