“Do you wish to continue with the rest of the sessions?”
I considered – only for a moment – saying no, at first. But then I contemplated the help my counselling has given me thus far… how it is helping me come to terms with Crohn’s, to accept myself first and everyone else second, to try and communicate better with everyone around me, to becoming more honest about my emotions, to take down my walls and lower my defenses.
Yesterdays session was a hard one.
I’ve mulled everything over, and I come to the same conclusion; I can not see myself not needing more help. I don’t think 9 sessions will cut it. I feel better, yes, but that might only be temporary. I will eventually at some point have to do this ‘delving into my psyche’ myself. It is dangerous, talking to myself about myself. It is clouded with my own judgement and feelings. Messy, complicated, yucky feelings. Ugh, emotions.
We talked about my hatred for healthy people. About if I am unable to accept my own condition, how can I expect or want anyone else to accept it? It is impossible! I expect far too much from everyone, especially myself. Me, myself and I have the hardest time not feeling pressurised and forced and pushed into situations where we don’t have control.
Ah, control. I adore it. I loathe Crohn’s for taking away the reign I had on my health. It is now in the hands of the lovely Humira and those clever consultants and nurses at Good Hope. Me no gusta! But, it is livable and I must live by those rules. So, control my work. Control my relationship; oh boy, do I control that. I see recurring issues I buried deep down the last time I fell in love, and there are rearing their ugly head again. Solution? USE MY WORDS LIKE A BIG GIRL AND WHATEVER I DO, DON’T CRY.
I do all this out of fear.
“Fear is natural, fear is good – it just means you’re growing.”
Thank fuck for that.