Third week of therapy tomorrow. I have 6 sessions on the NHS because I am living with someone who has clinical depression which has been driving me nuts.
I had to wait 12 weeks for it, which seems crazy when it's supposed to treat people in situations that have become too bad to cope with, but my nurse friend ticked me off for grumbling. She said this was very good, at my old address I'd have to have waited nearly a year. In most countries I'd have to pay a fortune etc etc.
Anyway, it's good. Turns out I'm as balanced as can be considering all that's been going on. Talking about my situation regularly is the best thing for me and as my friends are helping me so much with that we're using the sessions to look at behavioural patterns that have been around since childhood. All very interesting! A bit like the Parkinson interview you never had, nattering on and on about yourself and your family background except you can be as rude and ungrateful as you like, putting all the dodgy bits in so that they can be 'picked apart' as she put it.
CBT isn't deep psychoanalysis but I noticed after the first session how much the word care had cropped up. In the 2nd session I mentioned this and told her about one of my recurring dreams about the forest pony I had as a teenager. We were not well off by any means, he lived in a field all year and it was my responsibility to look after him. I still have recurring guilt dreams that he's been there all these years but I haven't been to feed him or check his shoes so when I do go, in the dream, he's starved and his feet have grown long and curly. One of the things this therapy does is that it helps you to help yourself by changing your thought patterns. Lots in the subconscious presumably & last night dreamt that I took my pony to the blacksmith! Have also started treating myself a bit more, like having an espresso on the terrace of the cricket pavilion on Twickenham Green after dropping daughter off, instead of sitting hunched up with laptop in car. Talking of which, it had to happen one day. The other morning we'd been naughtily up late, watching reality TV fake wedding probably, & daughter was snoozing next to me in car & when I got to the school I just drove on and started driving home again, forgetting to drop her off. Something for her therapist 100 years from now perhaps.
Bye bye, thanks for visiting, come again soon.