‘I cried,” Sarah Taylor says simply as she remembers the moment last month when, having just helped England win the World Cup at Lord’s, she recognised how much more she had achieved in overcoming the anxiety and depression which had forced her to give up cricket for most of the previous year. “We were on the field waiting for the presentation and it hit me. A year ago I wasn’t even playing cricket. Six months ago I wasn’t even playing. Everyone was crying. Typical girls – we were all crying.”

Taylor rolls her eyes and smiles in a way which cannot mask the fact she is a serious cricketer. Before hearing her harrowing but ultimately inspiring account of how she has learnt to control the panic attacks and despair which threatened to end her career and blight her life forever, Taylor’s outstanding cricket should be underlined.

In the World Cup, which marked her return, she scored 396 runs at an average of 49.50. Taylor hit 147 in a group game against South Africa and posted scores of 54 in the semi-final and 45 against India in the final. The best wicketkeeper in women’s cricket, she completed a brilliant leg-side stumping at a key moment in the semi-final against South Africa.

She made her England debut in 2006, aged 17, and became the first woman to play first-grade men’s cricket in Australia, in 2015, despite suffering from mental health problems she managed to conceal. It is little wonder Taylor had so much to absorb after England won a thrilling final in front of a crammed Lord’s and a global TV audience exceeding 100 million.

Taylor is engaging company and, talking in detail for the first time about her mental health, she speaks with raw intimacy. As she describes the darkest days, when she could not even get out of bed, she says: “You’re very negative. Everything is the worst-case scenario. My panic attacks would come because I couldn’t breathe properly. I’d spend the entire day focusing on breathing. I’d then think: ‘What am I doing with my life? I’m just stuck in bed, can’t breathe.’ That would make you worse. You spend the entire day having some form of panic attack. It’s awful because you don’t know why.

“I saw a doctor in London. My partner didn’t live far away so I was like: ‘Right, I’ll get up from my partner’s place and walk to the doctor.’ I did not even consider the fact this walk would be the hardest 15 minutes of my life. I sat on a bench outside, waiting. I was shaking, couldn’t breathe, on my own. This had happened before but I didn’t know what it was. All of a sudden it was more normal than a normal day.”

Taylor’s avocado and poached egg sandwich lies uneaten in front of her because she is more intent on talking – as she knows how many people suffer from the same ailment.

“I think I’ve always had it,” the 28-year-old says, before pinpointing the first time she became aware of the extent of her anxiety in 2013. “I remember randomly walking past my old school [in Brighton] and my PE teacher happened to be outside. He said: ‘Oh my God, we’re doing a sports event. Is there any chance you could hand out the awards?’ I was like: ‘Sure.’

“I stood there waiting, feeling ill. I couldn’t breathe properly. I thought I would pass out. I made some excuse: ‘I can’t do this for long because I have to shoot off.’ He said: ‘No problem, just do what you can.’ I remember putting these awards around children’s necks and I couldn’t see their faces. I was completely gone. I said: ‘I’m really sorry. I have to go.’”

The situation worsened on a tour of the West Indies in 2013. “I didn’t know why but I just wanted to go home. The coach said: ‘Stick with it, a score will come.’ I remember thinking: ‘This has nothing to do with cricket.’ I then started getting anxiety around doing media for a couple of years. I also realised I was having these symptoms before I went out to bat because I didn’t want to mess up. I remember playing Australia and running off to be sick before batting. I was distressed and thinking: ‘Don’t get out, don’t get out …”

Her team-mates remained oblivious and Taylor felt herself unravelling slowly, in an invisible implosion. During the T20 World Cup in February 2016 she made only 49 runs in five innings. It was a small, sad miracle that Taylor was even playing. “I spent all my time in my hotel room. I didn’t talk to anyone. Everyone used to joke I was ‘Room Service Sarah’. I had that fear of going to a new place, getting stuck somewhere and even of socialising.”

She had a short break after the World Cup and then the fall came. “I was supposed to travel the next day to play for Sussex but I couldn’t get out of bed to brush my teeth. The night before the game I broke down. I called the England physio and said: ‘I can’t do it.’ I think she already knew. I think Robbo [England’s coach Mark Robinson] did as well.”

In May 2016 it was announced that Taylor would take “an indefinite break” from cricket. She moved back in with her parents. “Life was a lot harder than cricket – and I don’t think my parents necessarily understood my decision because it was hard to explain. My mum is the most supportive woman in the world and now she’s absolutely fantastic. But at that time I was like: ‘Oh God, have I made the right decision?’ But, actually, I knew. I needed to get better. I’d be in bed and my mum would walk in and open the curtains and say: ‘Right, come on.’ I’d be like: ‘Not today. I’m having a bad day.’ Mum would say: ‘Nah, up you get.’ I’d say: ‘No. I need to stay here.’ She completely understands now I sometimes need a day to myself.”

I bought myself a dog, an adorable little Puggle called Millie. She genuinely saved my life

A doctor, and a little dog, rescued her. Gradually, her terrifying trips to the psychologist helped. “She started explaining things and giving me little tasks. After two months, I said: ‘I’m going to do something for me.’ I bought myself a dog, an adorable little Puggle called Millie. She genuinely saved my life. At first she was not allowed out and so I spent a few weeks with her, cuddling, bonding. And then, after her injections, she was allowed out for a walk.”

Taylor’s expression changes as she relives her anxiety. “This is somewhere I’ve grown up since I was seven. But stepping outside the house was the hardest thing. I put her on a lead and walked around my mum’s garden. The next step was the football field behind my parents’ house. I went halfway around. After a while I went around the field twice with this tiny dog.

“I thought I’d done enough but my mum said: ‘Sarah, she needs food.’ Queueing in a shop was so hard. The first time I couldn’t do it. But I went again and got the food. ‘OK,’ I said, ‘go quickly now.’ From there I was able to go to Boots to get shampoo and conditioner. Or I might sit in a cafe and two minutes later I’d suddenly leave. Slowly I was venturing out. It stemmed from this small dog because I had a purpose again – to make sure she was fed. That was important because I didn’t know my purpose. Am I Sarah Taylor, a cricketer? Or someone else? The World Cup was only a year away. But I was like: ‘There’s no way in hell I’m going back for that.’ I missed the girls but not the cricket.”

Taylor summoned the courage to accept an invitation to watch them play Pakistan in Taunton. “That was massive. I don’t know how I did that but I drove to Taunton by myself. Stayed in a random hotel. Robbo made it easier. He said: ‘Right, girls, if you have any questions please ask Sarah. She’s very open. But don’t overwhelm the girl – she’s had a tough time.’ The girls were happy to see me. I was happy to see them. I walked away thinking: ‘Let’s sort your shit out.’”

Was she on medication? “No – but I wanted medication at the time. You want a quick fix. I had a really good day and my partner said: ‘Let’s go shopping on Oxford Street.’ It seemed a good idea – even if I can’t do that now. I had one of my worst experiences. I was stuck on Oxford Street on the floor panicking, couldn’t breathe, needing sugar, needing water. That knocked me back two months – after I’d made so much progress at Taunton.”

Robinson had worked with Michael Yardy and Monty Panesar, cricketers who suffer from depression, and, gently, he enticed Taylor back. “One day,” she says, “I had a hit with Robbo. I had the best net of my life because I didn’t care about the outcome. I walked away thinking: ‘I’ve not lost my skill. I don’t have to panic.’ A month went by and I fancied another hit. Same a month later. Robbo then called: ‘Do you fancy popping up to Loughborough? Bring the dog.’ Robbo is brilliant. He’s a sneaky man who knows what he’s doing.’”

In December 2016, in Loughborough, Taylor “started training with Tim Boon [the former Leicestershire coach] and he was my cricket saviour. My mind is Boony now, bless him. Boony simplified everything. He asked how I felt when batting. I said it was as if everyone was looking at me, as if the light was on me.

He said: ‘Were you blinded by it?’ Yes. I was genuinely blinded. He looked at me and said: ‘Well, blind them.’ That will be my motto for life, ‘Blind them.’

“If I blind them they can’t see me and I can’t see them. It’s just me. No one is here. All through the World Cup we had little pictures laminated that we took to every ground and stuck them up. All mine said was ‘Blind them’.”

Robinson removed unnecessary stress. As travelling on the team coach to a ground triggered anxiety, Taylor was allowed to drive herself. Standing to attention during the national anthems also unsettled her – and so Robinson established it was not a stipulation for her to be on the field at that point. Taylor relaxed and joined her team‑mates for every anthem.

The night before the biggest day in the history of women’s cricket in England, Taylor was “chilled out. Because of my anxiety, my partner can stay with me. That distraction means I’m fine. On the day of the final I drove to Lord’s with my partner, who was going as a spectator, a security guard and the physio. I put on the Spice Girls’ Say You’ll Be There. It was an album called Bubblegum Pop – full of horrendous pop music from back in the day. Spice Girls, Hanson, everything. I was singing along with my partner and the physio. We were going for it.

“We got to Lord’s before the girls. I was able to take a breath and think: ‘I’m at Lord’s at a World Cup final. Let’s go.’ It was a nice way to prepare to play in front of 28,000 people for a standalone women’s game. This is not meant to happen but it felt completely normal.”

Taylor blinded everyone in her own mind. At a point where England required stability she was so concentrated she ran every one of her 45 runs. England’s total of 228 still looked under par. That perception seemed accurate when, after losing only three wickets, India needed 28 off 44 balls. “We were miles away but I genuinely didn’t think we’d lose. It was a weird feeling but I had no doubt. And then Anya [Shrubsole] came on.” In a devastating burst of bowling Shrubsole propelled England to an extraordinary victory in front of a delirious crowd.

“Boom!” Taylor exclaims. “I remember the lights going on the stumps and me running at Anya. And the noise. I’ll never forget the incredible noise.”

Sarah Taylor rushes to congratulate Anya Shrubsole after she claimed the last Indian wicket of Rajeshwari Gayakwad to win the Women’s World Cup for England. Photograph: Mark Kerton/Action Plus via Getty Images

Life has become more low-key as Taylor has just played three games for Lancashire Thunder in the KSL T20 – having moved for a few weeks up to Manchester. She was drafted into the side in an effort to balance the tournament as her home team, Southern Vipers, are a stronger lineup. Taylor has been staying alone in a Premier Inn and admits she has been tested.

“I’ve enjoyed being in Manchester but I’ve lost the process I had with England. That shows the importance of Robbo’s environment. I’ve not got that support network around me and I’ve gone back to old ways where you just get through rather than saying: ‘What’s going to work for me?’ But I’ve learnt so much. Without the massive support I get at England I thought I’d be OK. But, actually, I’m not ready to just be OK.”

Next month Taylor will fly to Australia to play in the Ashes – and she will be challenged at the airport, in the air and getting to and from grounds. “Certain things are in place to make me more comfortable and I’ll pay for a hire car. I also know if I say ‘I’m really struggling, I need to go home’ they’d book my flight and totally support me.”

Taylor is admirably honest about her struggle. “A few months ago I was going on buses, into shops and restaurants I’d never been to before. But cricket came along and real life is put on the back burner. I can’t risk doing those things because I don’t want to affect my cricket. I still have a lot to overcome but I hope my talking helps other people. The best thing I ever did was admit it. I can’t stress enough how it helps to talk about it.”

It is difficult not to sound trite when praising someone who has endured tumultuous times but Taylor nods when I say she should feel proud of herself. “Yeah, I am. I’m proud I’m spreading a message that it’s OK to admit these feelings. I’m proud I’ve bought my own place but I’m also proud of the small things. Getting up and having breakfast is one tick. Having lunch is another tick. This is my life now.”Sarah Taylor, a World Cup winner and one of the great women cricketers, smiles again. She also knows, with another tick, she has given me a blinding interview. She has blinded the anxiety and the stress and stepped out into the light again.