My struggles with depression are well documented. The darker days are behind me (for now) but I’ll never forget the daily anxiety and panic attacks, my inability to leave the house nor the moment my sanctuary became a part of my torture and I had the first of several severe panic attacks sitting in my bedroom. The attacks had always happened outside the house. In enclosed spaces. By enclosed spaces I mean train carriages, buses and overcast days when it felt like the clouds where sitting just above my head and with the slightest provocation could descend and suffocate me where I stood. They were dark days for sure. I was unemployed, having blown up what I thought I was my last chance to have a meaningful job just weeks before. I was broke, putting on weight at a record level as I sucked down whatever food I could find. Food was a way to feel alive, yet it all tasted like ash. I was trapped. It was the sense of being trapped, both inside …