This time last week, I felt pretty rubbish. The counselling I’d been waiting for for five months had fallen through after I found out that my counsellor and I knew each other professionally. That evening, I told my partner (P) that I was thinking of giving up on counselling. I felt that that even if they found me a new counsellor who I don’t know, I may run into them professionally at some point in the future. I would find uncomfortable and compromising.
Our conversation went badly, to say the least. Given that I’d admitted that I’d also stopped my medication, P was anxious about me abandoning treatment altogether. He tried to engage me in a ‘rational’ discussion about pros and cons, and challenged me on whether it’s really such an issue if I know my counsellor professionally. I clammed up and the conversation ended when I burst into tears. I felt like he thought I was overreacting and that he was making no effort to understand how difficult the experience that afternoon had been. I felt isolated and alone. The discussion may have been helpful in a few days time, but a few hours after the abandoned appointment, I needed someone to listen to how upset I was.
The following day was a friend’s wedding, which was lovely, but socialising with lots of people I barely know is draining and at weddings I always drink far too much free wine, leaving me feeling even lower for the next couple of days.
I started the week with a plan to call Mind and take myself off the waitlist. I figured it would be weeks before another evening slot came up anyway and I didn’t want to risk the blurring of my personal and professional life again. But before I got around to it, the counselling coordinator called me with an offer for a slot with a different female counsellor, starting next week. It caught me by surprised that this felt like good news, and I accepted the appointment. I start my 12 weeks of counselling with Moira* on Thursday, and I’ve been feeling more positive since then.
And I got some more good news: a job interview. It’s a dream job and I’d submitted an application with the attitude of ‘you’ve got to be in it to win it’, but not expecting to ever hear from them. But I’ve got an interview. And if I was successful, I would be much less likely to run into my counsellor in that role. I know it’s still a long shot, but it reminded me that there are other jobs out there and that abandoning counselling because of my job is probably not the most rational solution to my problems.
I walked out of work on Friday evening, the sky was blue and the sun was shining. I was listening to Sally Seltmann, and with this song, I felt like things might just get better.**
* Still not her real name
** On the borderline is a pretty problematic song. Seltmann says that she wrote it as an ode to Princess Diana, who apparently had BPD. Whether Diana had BPD or not, the lyrics suggest Seltmann’s complete misunderstanding of what it feels like to have problems with low mood, seeming to prescribe to the notion of ‘drag yourself out of bed by thinking happy thoughts.’ Nevertheless, for some reason, it worked for me on Friday so I’m putting it here anyway.