So.......
This fuckin' therapy business. I was thinking about twanging the whole gig. It depressed me that I was paying for someone to let me talk shite to them. And what was I really getting out of it? Hmmm... I was in tears on the way to my appointment. "Oh woe is me, everything is shite", "I'm being allowed to leave my well paid job which puts me in a position to be able to afford to pay for therapy, driving along the road in my BMW worrying about the fact my £50 notes are too big for my wallet"
Then I got there, and me and "the woman", in fact, let's call her my Therapist. Yea, My Therapist and I had a wee ding dong argument. About cutting. I was doing well, a wee jab here and there. It makes you feel better, how can that be bad? Had her on the ropes with my "it's not any worse than drinking or smoking puff... Harming your body for the short term benefit you get." That rocked her, I thought I was seconds away from the kill.
Then...
She came flying back with a knockout blow. From nowhere. And it was a fuckin' cracker. She pointed out that the scars on my arm are from months, some even years ago. And that when I look at them I'm reminded that I'm depressed. But I think they almost remind me to *be* depressed. Fuckin' hell. That's amazing, she's so fuckin' right and it was the tiniest wee thing. I should have worked that out myself. But I'm pleased that she beat me, it was a cracking debate. And she beat me. I never lose, if I'm losing I'll make shit up to make sure I win. But there I was.... Helpless, beat and I fuckin' loved it.
How can I cut myself now when I can't justify it anymore? It is worse than drinking or smoking... No question.
We also went over the things that I do with regards to "goals" or "targets" that I set myself. Always thinking that if I get there then I'll be "happy". And then being disappointed when I do eventually get there and I'm not happy. Today we spoke about how my targets were actually sound. It was my attitude of thinking that once I got there I'd be content. She explained that she thinks that I'm the type of person that's always going to try and strive for more. To keep on going. And that, that's ok. It's a good thing. That I should keep setting these targets, but set them as stepping stones. Set realistic targets, achieve them, and kick on from there. Decide what the next target will be. Maybe that will never stop, and the targets keep getting achieved. Or maybe one day I'll get somewhere and say. OK... That'll do. I'm happy here.
Either way it doesn't matter really does it? Just enjoy achieving these goals... Take things as they come and ride out the highs and lows that come with being a human being.
I know this might sound like new age, hippy bullshit, but I really feel I have some clarity today. Who knows how long it'll last. Maybe I'll watch that fuckin' football team tonight and find myself in the bowels of satan desperately hoping to crawl out his asshole. Who knows, but at least I know now that I am capable of feeling good again. I feel better than I have for ages. But not in an unhealthy, out-of-control way. In a normal.... light-at-the-end-of-the tunnel way.
Life is pretty simple really, things come along and you deal with them as best you can. But you make sure you deal with them, don't just bottle it all in and hope that something else will deal with it in time. I have some work I need to get done, I explained all *this* shit to my mate PK who got me the work. I had to tell him really, I didn't want him thinking I was just being a cunt and fucking him around. I did feel like I was a cunt though. Because I knew he'd be the one taking all the flak for it. There are a few people owed a pint when I go home, and PK is definitely one of those.
Anyway... enough of this happy nonsense...
Ha...
Cheers...
Me
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