It’s been about 8 weeks since I last had counselling and 3 weeks since I went to dbt. There was a natural break over Christmas for two weeks, the rest of the break was my doing.
Counselling is something which I pay for and given our financial situation I felt wrong to spend what little we had on something which I really didn’t feel I wanted at that moment. It was the perfect excuse not to go. Money is still tight and I couldn’t afford to go last week, but my counsellor and I had a chat on the phone and she waived the fee for January which was and is a huge relief. However it meant that I had no excuse left not to go.
DBT took a break and started again last week, but I didn’t go. I couldn’t face going. In part because I was feeling really shitty but I couldn’t deal with being triggered. Going to those sessions inevitably leads to someone disclosing something or an example being used by someone and it can cause all sorts of thoughts to get stirred up. I knew if i went last week that I would not be in a good way after.
I accept that in part this was a big assumption to make, but there are times when listening to my feelings is more important than what others might say. I took an extra quetiapine pill and spent the day pretty much comatose. Not the best form of self-care but was the safest option.
Today I went to see my therapist for my first counselling session in several weeks. I have been feeling so anxious about going. What was it going to be like? What would we talk about? How would I feel afterwards?
My head has been racing away at a billion miles an hour, not just about the counselling there are other things too. But the thoughts I’ve had about having to talk have been filling me with dread.
For sometime I’ve found it hard to really say anything about the past. I thought that I had conquered this part of myself by having written about it in this blog back in May. But nope, that’s far from the case. If anything I am feeling further and further away from wanting to go anywhere near things. The idea of hearing, seeing or writing those words is just too much and I can feel fear, anxiety, disgust, shame, vulnerability creeping inside of me. So I avoid it.
The counselling today centred around Christmas and new year. How had things been. I was honest, given how stressful it was financially it was actually a pretty decent affair. The only really hard thing was the bizarre behaviour from my mother. My therapist said that my mother’s behaviour said far more about her than me. This has been suggested to me by a couple of people. Problem is that I don’t know what it suggests other than the fact I am ‘persona non grata’.
I try so hard to keep my emotions inside and hidden, but I clearly don’t do it well because she picked up immediately on how painful it is and how hurt I feel inside. Sure, I need to let it go, to move on and just accept it as it is. But she’s my mother and I see her brilliant relationship with my siblings, it makes it so much harder. If it wasn’t my mother then perhaps I could let it go. But I don’t know how I’m meant to deal with this.
We went back to my childhood and talked about my education. Going to boarding school specifically. It was a 3 and a half hour journey away from my home. A long way at the age of ten. We talked about the reasons behind my going there, my feelings. What other people within the family think about it, how it was etc.
Not exactly heavy going stuff, there were a few other things but I don’t feel able to talk about it right now. I left and on my drive home I felt this intense wave of sadness hit me. I was 10, only a little older than my middle daughter. I cannot imagine sending her away. No matter how she might behave, she’s my baby and I wouldn’t want to send her so far away. I know that there are thousands of kids who go away for school and love it. If my family had been rich, if i had been more interested in school, if i wasn’t so fucked then perhaps I might have done better. The simple fact was that being sent away was the wrong choice for me and the subsequent consequences of going have effected my life…some for the better, but predominantly it’s not been good.
I am glad that I went. It was good to see my therapist and re-establish some connection to her. I feel exhausted and my head is busy with racing thoughts, but I feel like I have someone in my corner.
Thursday is back to dbt. I really don’t want to go, but I know that in order to take control there are some things which I need to learn to enable to do that. I think some of it is a load of crap and the therapists who run it are incredibly patronising in their tone. I feel like I’m in a remedial class for super thick people. I confess there are lots of people in the group who I am not too keen on. In fact so far I’ve barely spoken. I don’t really want to make friends. I feel like I’ve opened up to and trusted too many people leaving myself vulnerable. Some of them seem very angry and bitter, others are not interested in being there and are just going to keep people happy. Some are really nice but are involved in a world that I know is all too tempting…coccaine. I know that i have to keep my distance because it would be far too easy to get involved with them and the drugs. So I’m keeping myself to myself.
Whilst this is all happening I am trying to sort out a psychiatrist and my medication. All I want is to be stable. To not react the way I do, to not have the huge mood swings or the prolonged manic moods. I’m so tired of my head and the unpredictability that plagues my days. Hopefully something will help.