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Megan Hipwell's anxiety and insomnia

The Girl on the Train

Megan Hipwell’s anxiety and insomnia are recurring problems that shape her sense of home, marriage, and the possibility of escape. Scott Hipwell remembers that she suffered anxiety attacks and trouble sleeping; Megan’s own diary entry on 13 June 2013 records those difficulties returning alongside anger, creative frustration, and an increasingly urgent desire to leave. The two accounts show both the apparent improvement she experienced with treatment and the renewed distress she struggled to explain.

Onset and Symptoms

Scott Hipwell places the beginning of Megan’s anxiety attacks and sleep problems sometime in the previous year, though he cannot remember the exact point. Megan had told him she had experienced similar problems before and that they had eventually passed. In her June diary entry, she describes being unable to sleep in the heat, feeling uncomfortable in bed, and becoming angry as her thoughts circle. The entry presents sleeplessness not as an isolated symptom but as part of a broader agitation that makes rest and ordinary domestic life difficult.

Megan also recalls a recent period when she felt better: she was sleeping, no longer living in fear of nightmares, and felt able to breathe. Her account marks a clear change from that relative relief to a renewed inability to think, sleep, or draw. The earlier improvement gives the return of symptoms a particular force: Megan knows from experience that her state can change, but cannot make the present deterioration stop.

Home as Confinement

In Megan’s account, the house and its surroundings become signs of a life from which she feels unable to move. Scott’s warmth beside her makes sleep more difficult, while the possibility of going to the spare room carries the expectation of an argument. Even before an argument occurs, she imagines one and feels trapped in its anticipation. Her wish to be left alone and allowed to breathe sits uneasily beside the closeness of a shared bed and the constraints of the household.

Her restlessness extends beyond the bedroom. She wonders when the house and her life became so small and monotonous, and lists the closed gallery, the houses along the road, the Pilates women, and the railway track at the end of the garden among the things that make her feel stuck. The trains repeatedly suggest movement elsewhere, sharpening the contrast with her own sense of remaining in place. Her urge to run away, which had once come only occasionally, now feels overwhelming and persistent.

Treatment and Its Limits

Scott says he encouraged Megan to consult someone because he felt unable to help her. The recommended therapist was Kamal Abdic, and Scott initially believed the therapy was helping: Megan seemed happier. His recollection is tender but uncertain. He describes his failure to help her as a source of pain, then responds to what he has learned by reassessing the change he had observed. His account therefore records both his concern for her distress and the limits of what he understood about her improvement.

Megan’s own account confirms that talking to Kamal Abdic mattered to her. She liked him and felt happier with him, and she believes he might help again. At the same time, she regards their conversations as unfinished: after feeling rejected, she says she behaved childishly and withdrew. Her wish to return is thus bound up with embarrassment as well as need. She wants to speak aloud about what is troubling her and fears that keeping it unspoken will make it harder to bear. The evidence presents therapy as a source of real relief, but not as a lasting resolution; by June, her symptoms and desire to flee have returned.

Narrative Presentation

Megan’s distress is revealed through two different vantage points: Scott’s later recollection and her own dated, first-person diary. Scott identifies the onset broadly and describes what he could observe, while Megan’s entry conveys the daily texture of sleeplessness and the thoughts that gather around it. Her description of a period of recovery prevents the account from reducing her to a fixed condition; instead, the narrative emphasizes fluctuation, recurrence, and the gap between outward signs of improvement and unresolved inner distress.