Sitting on the therapist's couch

I started working with a counsellor a few weeks ago. I think I've had three sessions and she's the first counsellor type person assigned to me in the last twenty years who has had something of value to add to my life.

There is a problem when you've trained in helping people, where you know the tools, and you know what they might say and suggest, and you can tell pretty quickly if someone is going to be able to SEE you and dig deeper than you can on your own. As a person with a degree in psychology and a post grad in counselling, it's hard for me to trust that someone is going to be worth my time. I've literally had one counsellor ask me what advice I would give myself, and after I told her she said that she had nothing else to add.

I think the beginning of this mistrust stems back to a counsellor I saw after my parents announced their separation. She sat opposite me and kind of nodded and made positive noises, 'mmhmm' even when I wasn't saying anything at all. I hadn't said anything at all. She had not gained my trust, and I think at that time I was fairly locked down. I'd decided that if my parents weren't together then I wasn't going to need anyone. I couldn't trust anyone or rely on them, and I am definitely still working through that!

(Mum, I am not blaming you! You two weren't compatible anymore and I get that. I could see it coming. My response to your decision is not your responsibility. Love you. You're amazing and have always been worthy of my trust, whether I felt comfortable giving it or not.)

(And I will add that I had a really good counsellor once, but that was over twenty years ago now).

After trying, and being rejected several times, for some counselling sessions via the health service, I finally managed to get in to see someone and I just happened to be assigned someone who is a great fit for me. YAY!

Initially I was of the mind that there was no way we could deal with ANYTHING in four sessions. It's such a short amount of time and you need to build some rapport and all of that jazz.

There was none of that. Not really. I sat down and told her about what had been going on (it does help to be ready to open the wounds, and I was ready), she listened and related, and then she told me that she thought the most important thing about our time was that we focus on ME. We could talk about the things going on, but I need to be centred in the conversation. The sun. Everything else orbiting around me.

That was a challenge.

I have spent so long as a side character in my life that it's very hard for me to step into that main character role. And I love that she set that down as a ground rule. She SAW me. Saw my patterns so easily, and as a result, I felt like I could be open with her. She pulls me up when I turn things around so that I'm not the focus, and she can see when something I've said is a scab on a festering wound. She encourages me to rip it off so that we can treat what's below. Of course, all in a gentle way. It's not rough, it's not demanding, she's a guide on this journey, but I had to be ready to do the work.

I'm so grateful to have someone to work with who is a good fit - I've always known how important that is, but when you're working through the public system, you're rolling the dice and just have to take what you're given or get nothing at all.

So, three sessions in, I'm actually having an easier time reaching out to others and asking for what I need. Asking for support. I'm trying hard to trust people (most of whom are actually deserving of that trust - I have amazing friends and family). To trust myself (much harder). I've wobbled; this week, in particular, something happened that sent my brain spiralling, sent me backwards so fast I got whiplash, and I reached out to several friends to ask them to tell me not to quit everything or put myself back into side character mode.

I will not quit my job. I will not quit my writing.

I will not quit on myself.

Photo by Valentin Lacoste on Unsplash