Therapy

 

therapy definition
Link to web page

In case you were not aware, that is the Google definition of the word ‘therapy’. A word that, for the most part, I have tried to remain unfamiliar with, but recently it has cropped up once more. I used to avoid it because of the connotations it has with serious mental disorders. By accepting therapy, I would be accepting that something was wrong with me – something greater than I would admit to myself. But to me, nothing was wrong. Sure, there were times when I felt sad, but that’s the same for everyone. No one is happy all of the time.

My family gave me the nickname ‘Ice Queen’ due to my lack of emotion. It was only meant lightheartedly (as a joke that I had a frozen heart). I owned that nickname for years and never thought much of it. It wasn’t until these sad emotions arose that I realised it wasn’t necessarily a lack of emotion, I just felt empty. I could feel happy, or joyful, or a number of positive things but they would only be fleeting. They wouldn’t stay with me for very long and I would go back to feeling the void where something should have been.

It’s an odd feeling to describe. The only thing I’ve found that comes close to describing it is when you’ve been feeling hungry for such a long time that you no longer want to eat anything due to a hollow feeling in your stomach. Unless it’s only me who ever feels like that, in which case, I have no alternative description. It’s just a dull feeling where you know there should be more, but there isn’t. It’s just empty.

Then these sad emotions became more frequent and wouldn’t disappear as quickly as the positive ones did. They would keep me up at night, make me isolate myself from people and completely wear me out. Then it would pass and I would feel empty again. At first, when a bout of sadness ended it meant going back to being my normal self, but gradually the negative emotions began to settle in.

It wasn’t until one night a little over a year ago that the feelings became too much and I ended up hurting myself. Still, I didn’t think anything was wrong, or rather, not severe enough that I would need to consider seeking a ‘professional’ to talk to. I had supportive friends who I could discuss my feelings with. Besides, it was a one off.

But the feelings were still there, even though they did lay low for a short time after. I was determined to tell myself it was nothing to be concerned with. So much so that throughout last summer I was constantly doing stupid things which I told myself would prove that I could be happy. It resulted in some of the biggest mistakes of my life. And the mixture of empty sadness never left.

Shortly thereafter, it happened again. This time I couldn’t brush it off so easily and the word ‘therapy’ bounced around like a ping-pong ball. I still didn’t think it was necessary, but to appease those who were concerned about me, I made an appointment. To me, it still seemed silly to put myself in that situation. If they asked how I was feeling, I would say, “I’m fine thanks. How are you?” I had nothing to say except that sometimes I felt sad. It would just be a waste of their time, so I cancelled my appointment.

At least, that’s what I told myself. The truth was, I was scared. I was scared of what would happen if I did go to therapy. I was anxious about meeting a stranger and having to talk to them, especially about my feelings which are something I’m generally quite private about anyway. I was terrified of the word ‘depression’ and was already struggling to accept my anxiety which I had been trying to get to grips with for a few years already. I ended up closing myself off. I don’t remember how I reached that decision; it seemed to come naturally. In a way, it worked for a short while. I didn’t have anywhere near as drastic periods of sadness, but the consequence was that I scarcely felt happiness either.

Recently, it collapsed, but this time I wasn’t going to be scared anymore.

I realise now, that was a mistake. Feeling something is better than feeling nothing, and feeling something negative, as I was before, can be helped by talking to someone – someone capable of aiding you through what is happening. It is scary, and it means admitting things to yourself that you might find hard to accept. It’s not easy and it can be a long process, but it will be worth it.

Treatment intended to heal or relieve a disorder.

That’s all it is. It is no different than getting a doctor’s prescription to treat something physical. My anxiety does make it more difficult to even make a doctor’s appointment, but when I need to, I manage to overcome it. Therefore, I can get it to back off to see a therapist, too.

It’s just making that first step to open up the door to something more positive.

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This week

It’s been an interesting week. There was the general election on Thursday which was my first time voting on a national scale. The outcome was controversial: a hung parliament. This will make the discussions in Brussels much more onerous for Britain with a coalition government ‘supporting’ Theresa May – so much for ‘strong and stable’.

I also had my first A2 exam – History. I had already sat a retake from one of the Law papers from last year, but this was my first full A Level exam on one of the new linear courses. Thankfully, the questions did not appear to be that difficult. However, it was supposedly the easiest of the three History exams that I will be sitting, which likely means that the grade boundaries will be high and I will need some serious help to get me through the other two.

One positive thing, though: I will never have to look at my notes on Germany through the years 1919-89 ever again. I cannot wait for the rest of my exams to be over. As much as the environmentalist in me would rather just recycle my notes once exam season is finished, a large part of me just wants to watch them burn, crack open a bottle of champagne and drink until the sun comes up.

Yeah, the latter is certainly more compelling.

One down, six to go.

Exam season

It’s that time of year. Stress and tension are rife with, not only exams arriving, but the pressure that if we do not do well, we will not get into the universities or onto the career paths that we desire.

My goal is to go to the University of Exeter to study Law. I am required to get AAB in my subjects of English Language, Law and Modern History. Although this is not impossible, as time and studying goes by, I feel less confident that these are grades within my reach. I find it amazing that some of my friends who are aiming for Oxford or Cambridge, needing grades of A*AA, are managing to cope through this ‘season’. It is admirable and almost makes me feel foolish for getting so worked up about my grades.

However, it is still f***ing dreadful.

My biggest concern is that, if I do not get the grades I need, I have no idea what I am going to do. It is unfortunate that I wish to study law because, if I cannot get the grades now, there is little point reapplying for a university which offers lower grades as it is still very much a degree which requires a ‘prestigious’ university to graduate from in order to have a better shot at becoming a lawyer.

Only 3 more weeks and then I can enjoy the summer. Hopefully I will not spend it worrying about my results and will use the time well to relax and have fun. Only 3 more weeks and, for a while, it will be over.

2016

A year has gone by and I have nothing to show for it. I’ve made so many mistakes and completely lost myself. If I’m honest, I’m not even sure if I have truly found myself again – or if I ever was myself to begin with. 2016 was certainly not my year, and I don’t know if 2017 will be either. All I know is, last year was a learning curve. With any luck, this year I won’t reciprocate the mistakes I made last year and will grow as a person. My New Year’s Resolutions have already been written, so I do have some guidelines for next year. I already have some ideas as to what I want to aim to do, but only time will tell if I am able to go through with them. There are so many things I want to experience, learn and be a part of in this year. I genuinely cannot wait for it.

I’ve put a lock on 2016 and intend to throw away the key.

Red or Dead

Things have been rather quiet on here the last few days. Not because nothing has happened, but rather there doesn’t seem to be time to write what’s going on. Hopefully this will change now it’s the Christmas holidays. Anyway, the title of this post comes from the events that occurred last Saturday night…

My boyfriend threw a little party with some close friends for Christmas. I’d had a somewhat long day of work and then seeing relatives who were visiting before coming over. Previously in the day I had felt a little faint and funny, but some paracetamol  in my system seemed to clear me straight up. I get to my boyfriend’s and there were more people already there than I had anticipated because a few people decided to turn up early. This threw me a little, especially because I don’t know all his friends that well, and so my nerves started to play up. My resolution was to drink to calm my nerves. My chosen beverage: red wine. I don’t even remember the type at this point, but that doesn’t matter. An hour and a game of beer pong later, I had finished one bottle by myself and was well into the second. It probably didn’t help that after beer pong we were throwing the ping pong ball about and it landed in my wine glass, which, with the encouragement of others, I thought it would be a good idea to down. How stupid. Flash forward another thirty minutes and I’m upstairs in bed because I needed a minute feel better. Next thing I know, I’m bursting for a pee and rush to the toilet. However, I didn’t just need to pee and ended up vomiting all over my boyfriend’s pristine, white bathroom floor…

He then came in to what looked like a murder scene. My red wine vomit made it look as though I had exploded. I was stripped and put in the bathtub until it was all out of my system. Then I was guided to bed and passed out instantaneously. It was awful.

However, when I woke up at 4am I didn’t have a hangover. No headache. No more vomiting. I hadn’t pissed myself in my sleep. My boyfriend was curled up next to me, not caring that my hair probably smelt a little like vomit.

I did get teased about it relentlessly afterwards, though, and expect it’s a story to be retold in years to come. It was nice how many people cared to check how I was doing, but they shouldn’t have worried because it was my own fault. Damn, nerves can be a bitch.

Next time, I think I’ll stick to good old beer.

Crappy Christmas Cards

I do this way too often. There are only two weeks until Christmas and, although I have bought all of my Christmas presents (minus the wrapping paper) I have left everything else to the last minute. Then, typically, when I go to do these things something else gets in the way. Today I have spent the last 5 hours making Christmas cards for some of my family. Normally it’s a joint effort with my sisters because traditionally we hand-make them for relatives (grandparents, etc.) because we have been doing that since we were tiny. Not today. What is usually a couple hours of festive activity turned into a stressful production of making these damn cards because, despite liking the idea of making them again this year, no one actually wanted to help.

It really doesn’t help that I’m also ill…

But alas, finally one more thing has been checked off my never-ending to-do list… Does this warrant a nap?