reality TV?

Bloody British Soaps. How I hate them. How I hate the contrived stories of heartache and trauma. People actually worry about these characters, they talk about them at work. My Nan used to think they were real. The evening before she died she was distressed that she couldn't see Coronation Street. The lady opposite had it on but they wouldn't turn it around so she could see it too.
Mean? Well not really because it wasn't a TV it was a cardiac monitor.
Anyways... Tonight's Eastenders was TV. I wasn't watching but became aware of it after a while. Billy's girlfriend had a baby and it had Downs Syndrome. Then he appeared to get stuck in a tube or train and he began to tell the people about the baby and suddenly was more able to accept his predicament after his talk to these strangers.
Funny,it brought back a memory. Coming back from London on a great Western train about 3 years ago. On my own. Feeling a bit sad and tired. This lady came and sat by me.
She started to talk to me. Something about her work. I told her I was a nurse (dunno why)
Then she started to talk about her daughter. The journey was 90 minutes long. For all of this time she talked about her lovely girl. She'd been bright, clever and beautiful but diagnosed with leukaemia at about 12. She died when she was 15. She had major issues with her care. Her illness was gruelling and a battle. Her death devastating. She'd had seemingly callous treatment by some medical staff. Too busy and not enough compassion. Probably stretched and stressed TBH. She showed me pictures, a lock of her hair. She talked about her with a smile and a tear. She said her husband never talked about her anymore. She'd had no counselling or support. I don't think she wanted it at the time. Preferring the acute pain not to fade for fear of losing her completely.
She got off at Bath Spa. I felt like I'd been through a huge journey with her.
I was a stranger but one with the ability to understand and empathise and picture things.
I wonder if somehow that 90 minutes helped?
I had some intense flashes of some stuff in the past at the weekend. Things I thought I'd dealt with and tucked away. I told Spring some stuff about a friend, then couldn't shift the anxiety. I sat crying for a hour downstairs. I'd always thought that I needed to talk about stuff. But I'm not so sure anymore.
That was that time. This is now. This is better. This is good.