The trouble with counselling is that it takes over your whole life; it’s entirely in the external world its entirely in the internal world. More often than not those two worlds are colliding.
How can an hour-hour and a half impact so much, how it can just be that all the sodding time?
Feel hungry; decide to eat something reasonable that means a cheese sandwich, rather than just a bag of crisps.
OK, probably means sandwich and crisps. Seems a relatively innocuous, maybe even positive, looking after myself action. But it’s loaded with memories about my stepfather. The memories are still strong; my mind wants to fight me over the cheese sandwich. OK, I give in I have toast and crisps. See!!!!! I am determined to get those crisps in somewhere. The cheese sandwich becomes a danger, a risk.
BUT………. IT LEAVES A TRAIL OF GUNPOWDER ALL AROUND ME THAT CAN GO OFF AT ANY POINT.
It feels like counselling is creating a trail of gunpowder around me. It was a trail, now it’s becoming a mountain. Miniscule things can start the sparks inside.
Every memory has its different set of feelings, trouble is they get so muddled up; it’s hard to find words.
When other peoples words come out they can set the sparks off.
Sometimes at the end of a counselling session the counsellor asks are you ok to leave;
sometimes I want to say –yep-ok-ok ish
sometimes I want to say I can’t run quick enough to get out
sometimes I want to say – no I don’t feel safe-but I still have to leave-I say I’m ok
sometimes I can’t say anything very comprehensible-sort of nod as I pull on my jacket in a very disorganised manner-and get out the door-I tell myself I leave the room in a cool “I am fine and don’t give a dam fashion”…………… think I am only fooling myself on that one!!!!!!
The last couple of counselling sessions have been too overwhelming. I felt like I need a fire extinguisher. It’s the kind of feeling that screams for a bear hug, which is yelling out for someone to say let’s go for a drink—(alcoholic–) get mildly merry and put the world to rights. Trouble is, even if someone offered I’d probably run away.
So, instead, when I get home, its destination bed and sleep or bed and struggling to stay in the here and now. Followed by a mega binge.