A beginning.
~
January 2018 ~
‘So.
It sounds like illness has dominated your life – been your
definition, almost – for years. And now, you’re coming out of it,
and you’re wondering...who am I?’ She says, putting the folder
down and looking at me kindly over a pair of
glasses.
I
give a shy smile. I can feel myself opening up, and I’m
excited. ‘Yes, I think so.’
Later,
I sign myself out, I thank the receptionists, and I walk outside. The
cool air hits me, and I pull my jacket tighter around myself,
pressing my woollen hat down on my forehead. I stop as I do it, hold
my head in my raised hands, I gasp, and cry. Just for a few
seconds. I feel the enormity of what's about to happen, and how badly I need it. I wonder where I'll be in 10 weeks time. Somewhere better, I think.
Then I straighten up, stick my chin out, and walk on.
~ I wrote this not long after my first counselling session, back in January. My 10 weeks of therapy ended in March, and just the other day when I was really struggling again, I was offered another slot with my counsellor - and I grabbed it. I'm still working on me. ~
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