Virtually I have moved here.
In real life, I am moving from my litle abode in middle class Oxfordshire, to another little abode, where students live, in York. I got into uni, move in date is 17th September.
I'm sure I'll ramble about it on wordpress and twitter
Laura xxx
Monday, 29 August 2011
Friday, 5 August 2011
letters and a downward spiral
It’s been “one of those weeks”.
I’m writing this trying to decide how I feel, but the honest answer is, I don’t know how I feel. I’m completely empty. Numb. It’s a horrible feeling.
At the beginning of the week, I decided that I was going to write a letter to my new counsellor. I met her last week and had a brief chat with her. I’m not sure what caused me to write the letter, I suppose I’ve reached the stage where I can’t keep running from the past and what happened. It took a very inspiring lady to get me to realise this. She knows who she is.
So I wrote the letter. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever written. Nearly two thousand words of horrible memories and raw emotion. On Wednesday I went to the counselling place, with the letter and asked to speak to my counsellor. I should have thought it through; I had turned up unannounced and had to wait just over an hour to see her. I could feel my breathing getting unsteady and was aware that I was shaking, but before I reached ridiculous levels of panic, my counsellor appeared. I handed over the letter and she read it then and there. I don’t know what I was expecting. I just needed to be honest, but didn’t have the ability to form articulate sentences out loud to do this. She was audibly shocked by what was written in the letter; my friend’s suicide, my character reversal at school, getting thrown out of lessons, the attempted, forced sexual activities from someone that I was subjected to. The conversation that followed wasn’t what I was expecting (or what I wanted). She had her own take on what was written in the letter; she said that the self harm was because I’m angry with myself and don’t know how to be angry with other people, that I need to stop blaming myself and that I need to express this emotion.
It’s a learning curve, but I really resent being told that I am something; that I’m angry with myself. I’m not angry with myself, I did some incredibly stupid things, but anger isn’t something I feel. I’m hurting. And I want to control that hurt.
She continued to talk, repeatedly asking me to express some form of emotion. I couldn’t do that. I sat, listening, answering, but not feeling. She asked me when I was due to start at university. I told her that if everything goes to plan, it should be the middle of September. There was a long pause after I’d said this. She then said that because I’m moving in six weeks, she refuses to continue my treatment because all the issues which have been written in the letter can’t be address in this space of time and I can’t be helped. That, quite literally, was that. My letter has been put in my file and I was free to go.
It was been the biggest blow I think I’ve ever had. I’m not going to big myself up, but from my perspective, it took a lot for me to write that letter and admit everything, it took even more to have the courage to go the counselling place, wait, and hand it over. To then be told that treatment is being stopped and I “can’t be helped” was one of the worst things I could have been told. I feel truly let down. I feel let down because it’s taken a number of years for me to accept that I need help, that I want help and I am not being told I can’t have it. No mention has been made about being transferred to another service when I move, so I assume nothing is being done in that respect. It hurts. It’s actually made me feel pretty shit.
I rang my Connexions advisor after this. I didn’t know what else to do, she was the only person I could think of who might be able to calm me down. This is where the emotional overload started, I cried hysterically down the phone to her, making very little sense. After establishing where I was, she gave me strict instructions to remain there and she would come and meet me, which she did. We talked things through, she calmed me down and she listened.
Fast forward two days and we find ourselves at today. The emotions have disappeared. I don’t feel anything. I still feel let down, but that isn’t an emotion. I smile, but I don’t feel happy. I cried at a sad programme, but I don’t feel upset. I am completely numb. My motivation has hit an all time low and I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t want to socialise with people because I don’t know how to. I want to sleep but I can’t, even after abusing the ampitrityline prescription my GP gave me and tripling what I should have taken, I still find sleeping difficult. I wake up in cold sweats after nightmares mixed with flashbacks, or I just don’t sleep and lie in bed watching rubbish on TV until 5am when I collapse in a groggy state.
I’m scared, I’ve never been this scared. That is the only thing I can identity how I feel. And the worst part is, I don’t have anyone to turn to.
I’m writing this trying to decide how I feel, but the honest answer is, I don’t know how I feel. I’m completely empty. Numb. It’s a horrible feeling.
At the beginning of the week, I decided that I was going to write a letter to my new counsellor. I met her last week and had a brief chat with her. I’m not sure what caused me to write the letter, I suppose I’ve reached the stage where I can’t keep running from the past and what happened. It took a very inspiring lady to get me to realise this. She knows who she is.
So I wrote the letter. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever written. Nearly two thousand words of horrible memories and raw emotion. On Wednesday I went to the counselling place, with the letter and asked to speak to my counsellor. I should have thought it through; I had turned up unannounced and had to wait just over an hour to see her. I could feel my breathing getting unsteady and was aware that I was shaking, but before I reached ridiculous levels of panic, my counsellor appeared. I handed over the letter and she read it then and there. I don’t know what I was expecting. I just needed to be honest, but didn’t have the ability to form articulate sentences out loud to do this. She was audibly shocked by what was written in the letter; my friend’s suicide, my character reversal at school, getting thrown out of lessons, the attempted, forced sexual activities from someone that I was subjected to. The conversation that followed wasn’t what I was expecting (or what I wanted). She had her own take on what was written in the letter; she said that the self harm was because I’m angry with myself and don’t know how to be angry with other people, that I need to stop blaming myself and that I need to express this emotion.
It’s a learning curve, but I really resent being told that I am something; that I’m angry with myself. I’m not angry with myself, I did some incredibly stupid things, but anger isn’t something I feel. I’m hurting. And I want to control that hurt.
She continued to talk, repeatedly asking me to express some form of emotion. I couldn’t do that. I sat, listening, answering, but not feeling. She asked me when I was due to start at university. I told her that if everything goes to plan, it should be the middle of September. There was a long pause after I’d said this. She then said that because I’m moving in six weeks, she refuses to continue my treatment because all the issues which have been written in the letter can’t be address in this space of time and I can’t be helped. That, quite literally, was that. My letter has been put in my file and I was free to go.
It was been the biggest blow I think I’ve ever had. I’m not going to big myself up, but from my perspective, it took a lot for me to write that letter and admit everything, it took even more to have the courage to go the counselling place, wait, and hand it over. To then be told that treatment is being stopped and I “can’t be helped” was one of the worst things I could have been told. I feel truly let down. I feel let down because it’s taken a number of years for me to accept that I need help, that I want help and I am not being told I can’t have it. No mention has been made about being transferred to another service when I move, so I assume nothing is being done in that respect. It hurts. It’s actually made me feel pretty shit.
I rang my Connexions advisor after this. I didn’t know what else to do, she was the only person I could think of who might be able to calm me down. This is where the emotional overload started, I cried hysterically down the phone to her, making very little sense. After establishing where I was, she gave me strict instructions to remain there and she would come and meet me, which she did. We talked things through, she calmed me down and she listened.
Fast forward two days and we find ourselves at today. The emotions have disappeared. I don’t feel anything. I still feel let down, but that isn’t an emotion. I smile, but I don’t feel happy. I cried at a sad programme, but I don’t feel upset. I am completely numb. My motivation has hit an all time low and I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t want to socialise with people because I don’t know how to. I want to sleep but I can’t, even after abusing the ampitrityline prescription my GP gave me and tripling what I should have taken, I still find sleeping difficult. I wake up in cold sweats after nightmares mixed with flashbacks, or I just don’t sleep and lie in bed watching rubbish on TV until 5am when I collapse in a groggy state.
I’m scared, I’ve never been this scared. That is the only thing I can identity how I feel. And the worst part is, I don’t have anyone to turn to.
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