It’s time to ponder the big stuff


Time to look back to childhood learnings

I have a new counsellor. I was referred because, during my counselling assessment, it was suggested that online CBT and management of symptoms probably wouldn’t cut it. I’d done all that. It got me through but it didn’t move me forward. It was time to tackle the big stuff.

Was I ready? As ready as I was when I ticked the option for GCSE Drama as an excruciatingly shy 15 year old. And as ready as I was when I jumped on the bus to travel to the Christchurch skydive centre.

So I very quickly said yes and committed before I could wimp out. After all, my amygdala might have been telling me that I was bricking it, but my rational mind argued that these things would be bloody good for me. As good for me, in fact, as a Labour government would be for Britain. (NB – for any currently undecided voters, just to clarify matters, I passed GCSE drama and survived the sky dive, landing with a beaming smile and a huge surge in endorphins. So do take a chance on Jezza tomorrow. You will be rewarded.)

Anyway, back to therapy. Not that I would need so much of it if Labour got in…..

Sorry, that’s definitely the end of the political talk now. Back to therapy…

I thought I might share this new experience of more in depth therapy, as I would love to hear from anyone else who has gone beyond CBT and into what makes us who we are. It’s kind of interesting having spent so many years managing symptoms and learning about CBT to actually look at what’s underneath. What’s driving it all. I had no idea until recently that a lack of self-esteem could cause anxiety. That it’s not necessarily all the small things that are making you anxious, but something much bigger and longer-term that’s driving it.

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Bitten by the panic bug

The silver lining is that I am not talking nonsense by blogging about mental health. Ridiculous, I know, getting imposter syndrome about something like that.Isn’t it usually getting a new job and worrying you’re not made of good enough stuff? Or finding a new hair salon and thinking you’re not worthy of being there cos your nails aren’t manicured and you don’t wear lippy?

Who the hell panics that they are not ill enough though? Me. I was worrying. I was starting to doubt my integrity…

I don’t have a REAL mental illness. I just worry a lot. I whine a lot. I’m as mentally ill as Katy Hopkins is likeable, as the Daily Mail is tolerant and as Madonna is virginal.  As somebody who has often had health anxiety (not a real illness, so I tell myself), it seems odd to try to make myself feel better by convincing myself that I do have a diagnosable illness.

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