I cried last night. Real tears. Connected to real emotions.
It happened while I was writing my journal.
And it’s been a while since I’ve allowed that to happen.

I went to see a possible therapist yesterday afternoon for the first time. I’d only spoken to her very briefly on the phone before meeting with her and I had a few fears and worries before going to the meeting. I’m not going to go into detail about that, because it’s sort of beside the point, but, I did see this person. Some of my preconceptions appeared to be valid (though, that is not to say that my fears were realised), but there was also something about this person that I did sort of like.

Still, I left the session feeling quite down. So, when I got home I got out my journal and started writing. And what I realised was that the reason I felt down wasn’t only because I had been talking a lot about my background [which can be pretty emotional], but because it kind of dawned to me what a hugetask it will be for me to start over again. Not just the actual therapy, but meeting with a new person on that very intimate level. It is enormously hard work, and very very draining.

I don’t trust people easily. Especially in a situation where I’m meant to give a lot of myself; where the stakes are high. So, I test people. A lot. I’ve done it with every single therapist and counsellor I’ve ever worked with.
And most have failed in one way or another.
Not on a professional level, but on the Deemed Trustworthy By Me scale.

You see, in my mind counselling and therapy is about meeting another person. Or, maybe that’s not quite what I mean.. It’s about allowing yourself to be met by another person. And that doesn’t just happen. And it certainly can’t happen unless you truly trust that other person.

So, starting over with a new therapist is a mountainous task for me. I went through all those different stages of testing with D. last year – something that was further complicated by the fact that for the better part of my counselling with her I wasn’t sure how many more times I’d be able to see her. But, in the end she did pass. Meaning that I felt able to actually let her in.

But then counselling came to an end.
Needless to say, having finally reached that stage of trust and respect, that was a pretty painful experience. Or would have been, had I been able to let myself really feel the pain.

Up until recently I’ve been quite busy, getting used to all the general changes in my life, finding my place within the community I am now living in and so on, and that has, I suppose, acted as something of a buffer for any real feelings I might have had regarding the end of counselling, [which, in effect, is also the end of my relationship with D.], but yesterday, having seen this new person, and realising on a different level that I won’t be seeing D. again, well, it brought on a whole range of emotions.

I guess the best way to put it is that, although it may seem horribly blown out of proportion to someone who doesn’t know me, the loss of this very important person in my life, it’s something like dealing with a death. The way I see it you pretty much go through the same stages of grieving, the same cycle of emotions. And last night it hit home in a big way. And I cried.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m writing this. Other than that for me writing is, and always has been, a way of making sense of what’s going on inside of me. It may well seem to other people that I am awarding this pseudo-loss too much significance. But, honestly, I don’t think I am. For me this is real. And it hurts.
And therefore it is valid.

xx