Confessions of a rubbish catholic

It's been 20 years since I last went to confession.
Attempting to pick my faith back up was going to be a challenge but I wanted to try.
First stop? Church Amazon. Mainly to arm myself with appropriate apparatus before stepping in through the door.
I bought a prayer book and some plastic rosary beads.
Yes, I'd forgotten my prayers. And the beads - well, I felt like I should be holding some. Otherwise it's like going shopping without any bags. One minute you're browsing the vegetable aisle, the next you're wondering how much food you can shove in your handbag before Sainsbury's car park becomes awash with margarine and bite-size shredded wheat.
Anyway.
I made it to the cathedral halfway through Saturday morning mass. I'd been Googling appropriate steps for returning Catholics. Google responded with 'confession'.
I remember my first time quite clearly. It's such a hard thing to do, especially when you're small.
I had made a list of things I had done wrong on a cardboard Easter egg, which I had taken from the drawer at school. I'm quite certain the first confession was 'I'm sorry for taking this cardboard Easter egg'.
This time was different though.
I didn't have anything written down. My hands were shaking and my heart was in my mouth. I felt terrified.
The sound of the automatic doors echoed as I toppled into the church via the gift shop with my little book and box of beads.
The incense hanging in the air was so familiar and my mind immediately jumped to memories of going to mass as a kid. The faint smell of cigarettes from my dad's hands and the taste of wood as I casually chewed on the pew in front.
I sat through the end of the mass and then managed to accost an unsuspecting church goer to get help in finding where confession was being held. She directed me around the corner where I found a waiting area and a row of twinned box rooms. The priests started to enter (there were three that day, quite a crowd) and the lady next to me gestured for me to go in first.
The old door was stiff and it banged shut making my presence even more detectable. I turned around and realised I was in the dark. I couldn't work out if there was meant to be a light or whether this was a new thing the Church was trialing in an attempt to help people feel more at ease.
Nonetheless, I clumsily felt around for the kneeler and finally settled into position - albeit at a slightly weird angle due to a random chair I soon discovered was right behind me. I felt like my heart-rate couldn't be any higher until I heard the priest's voice.
Confession began.
I fumbled my way through and couldn't hear very well. After it went quiet, I started to leave and tripped on the chair. "Sorry," I said while looking for my bag.
"What!?" said the priest.
"Oh," I said.
Confession wasn't over.
I immediately got back down on my knees, now in a state of panic.
We prayed together and the priest helped me with the words when I started to struggle, but my mind was all over the place.
At the end, he asked if the light was on in my side of the confessional. I felt like I had already caused enough trouble so I just replied, "I think so". Brilliant - lying in confession. Good work. Perhaps I'll mention that one next week...
Anyway, after struggling with the heavy door - again - I broke free and tumbled into a nearby pew.
I felt relieved, embarrassed, sad and happy, all in one go.
I think I'll try again next week.