I have been quite open on here about the ups and downs of this journey of mine, through meds, hospital stays, 5 surgeries, months of recovery and the multitude of things going wrong, I have documented the lot. There are times when I feel positive and upbeat and other times when I feel thoroughly defeated.
You may have noticed that I didn’t blog for a good few months this year (from April to July) which is the longest time I have abandoned this place for. The reason for that time away is that I am really struggling mentally. And after months of hiding my feelings and plastering a smile on my face, I decided to start seeing a counsellor a few weeks ago.
I haven’t told many people this, I suppose I just wanted to keep it for me for a while, to try it out and see how I felt about it. I suppose there is a small part of me that is a little embarrassed, I am not from a place or family that talks about needing support or showing any vulnerability or weakness. I know this is bullshit, but I am fast discovering just how much crap my upbringing and environment has subconsciously taught me.
I don’t want to go into it too much, it is very much a private thing between me and her. But I do want to say that just a month in, and I am feeling the benefit of it week on week. Don’t get me wrong, it is HARD. We are talking about things that hurt. A lot. We are talking about things that bring a lump to my throat to just think about, let alone say them in front of another human. But it is helping me to start to learn about myself, to pull things apart and think about them in a new way.
It is helping me to not only understand myself, but to start to think about the people in my life and how they are feeling and how their actions have affected me.
It’s weird, I am quite controlled, yet when I am there, things come out of my mouth that I didn’t even know I wanted to say, that I hadn’t even thought about. And her responses sometimes floor me.
I struggled with the very idea of counselling because I struggle with people who make excuses for their own behaviour (she has made me realise that growing up with alcoholics and drug addicts will do that to a person!). And so there is a big part of me that feels like I shouldn’t be there complaining, that I should just figure my shit out and deal with it myself.
But another part of me has realised that figuring my shit out requires the input of a very clever and compassionate therapist at this point in my life. And that’s OK.
I thought about whether to share this with you or not, and I came to the conclusion that if I do this, I do it honestly. I don’t want someone reading this blog and only seeing the Mary Poppins, sweetness and light, positive rainbow side of me and thinking ‘oh. why do I feel so shit and she is ok?’ I want to share the highs, and the lows.
I want to tell you all, and myself, that even when things are awful, even when you want to hide in bed or run away, when you feel like you are a burden to those around you, when you wonder what the point in carrying on is, when the world feels like a dark an scary place; you aren’t alone, I am here and I understand.
Love Sam xx