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So I'm starting this blog slightly belatedly. I've been reading through my past activity here on Pandy's (mainly trawling for info to take to T's with me) and I've realised that my the way I journal is completely different to the way I post. I guess I'm still very paranoid about someone finding my diary and it's inhibiting the way I share - all I seem able to record is an impersonal list of topics covered - maybe handy if all I want is to make sure I don't repeat myself but it's kinda low on the therapeutic score.
Anyway, if T is instrumental in my opening up and exploring my demons then this blog is my exorcism. I've not blogged before and never really spoken about past events so I guess it might take a few goes before I can relax properly.
So, my first session. At last. I've waited months to shuffle to the top of the list - I thought I'd never get there. Earlier this year I was literally cracking up over all this and devoting way too much to thinking about it all - paranoid depression and PTSD are an acideic and volatile mix... however, thanks primarily to my bipolar meds (which are finally at a palliative level) and the forced wait (which I think I needed) I'm in a more stable place to broach the subjects.
T seems nice. I guess. But I am a poor judge. I know nothing about her and as long as it stays that way I think I'll be able to talk to her. I really don't understand the posts I've read about the relationship/bond between T and patient - to be honest, the merest thought of it leaves me cold. But then I don't bond, attach, whatever. My psychiatrist feels sorry for me but I've found it a gift.
First session - very difficult. I felt like such a fraud. All that waiting and readiness to speak and I sat there feeling as though I'd been dragged there kicking and screaming. Ended up talking about the struggle to talk. Obviously Pandy's came up - think I only made it there at all because of all the positive posts I'd read about therapy. Couldn't even start to express the relief I felt at finding that there really were others like me, others with similar pasts, others who'd ended up damaged, others who felt the same kind of guilt and desolation. Even managed to voice the vile envy I've felt (even recently) at those who'd reacted differently, those who had fought back, who'd talked to someone about what had happened to them, who'd reported it, who'd received some kind of recognition, shared the anger of the injustice of it all. I felt lighter for saying it.
Oddly, I felt very anxious after the session. I have a 15-20 minute walk back to the car park - initially it seemed like a good idea - more sensible than driving stressed out and angry. But the streets were busier than when I arrived. Every footstep behind me sent my hackles up - I could feel their presence like a cloak over my back. I had to stop dead several times and jump aside to let people past. By the time I reached the town I was boucing along in a bubble and desperate for a distraction. Ended up buying heaps of underwear and driving home horny as hell... probably not a reaction I'm ready to dissect at T for a long while yet.
Anyway, if T is instrumental in my opening up and exploring my demons then this blog is my exorcism. I've not blogged before and never really spoken about past events so I guess it might take a few goes before I can relax properly.
So, my first session. At last. I've waited months to shuffle to the top of the list - I thought I'd never get there. Earlier this year I was literally cracking up over all this and devoting way too much to thinking about it all - paranoid depression and PTSD are an acideic and volatile mix... however, thanks primarily to my bipolar meds (which are finally at a palliative level) and the forced wait (which I think I needed) I'm in a more stable place to broach the subjects.
T seems nice. I guess. But I am a poor judge. I know nothing about her and as long as it stays that way I think I'll be able to talk to her. I really don't understand the posts I've read about the relationship/bond between T and patient - to be honest, the merest thought of it leaves me cold. But then I don't bond, attach, whatever. My psychiatrist feels sorry for me but I've found it a gift.
First session - very difficult. I felt like such a fraud. All that waiting and readiness to speak and I sat there feeling as though I'd been dragged there kicking and screaming. Ended up talking about the struggle to talk. Obviously Pandy's came up - think I only made it there at all because of all the positive posts I'd read about therapy. Couldn't even start to express the relief I felt at finding that there really were others like me, others with similar pasts, others who'd ended up damaged, others who felt the same kind of guilt and desolation. Even managed to voice the vile envy I've felt (even recently) at those who'd reacted differently, those who had fought back, who'd talked to someone about what had happened to them, who'd reported it, who'd received some kind of recognition, shared the anger of the injustice of it all. I felt lighter for saying it.
Oddly, I felt very anxious after the session. I have a 15-20 minute walk back to the car park - initially it seemed like a good idea - more sensible than driving stressed out and angry. But the streets were busier than when I arrived. Every footstep behind me sent my hackles up - I could feel their presence like a cloak over my back. I had to stop dead several times and jump aside to let people past. By the time I reached the town I was boucing along in a bubble and desperate for a distraction. Ended up buying heaps of underwear and driving home horny as hell... probably not a reaction I'm ready to dissect at T for a long while yet.
Tags: first therapy session
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