How to Get the Most Out of Counselling

I've been seeing counselors off and on for about a decade. If you pay attention to what's going on, it's difficult to do something for so long without learning how to do it better or worse. As it tends to be an exhausting journey to start, here I shall write some tips and things that I've learned, in the hopes of making it easier for someone else.

The best piece of advice I was ever given is this: don't settle. You're talking about your brain and your feelings and things. There are people in this world who will understand what you say and what you mean, and people who won't, and a whole spectrum in between.

For my first counselor, I wanted someone who was Christian, so they would understand that priority set and values. We went to a place with whom my parents had insurance coverage. I got someone who used to be Christian. I went in because I was feeling like I should break up with my boyfriend but didn't know why. She said go for it; you're starting college soon and breakups usually go hand-in-hand with such major changes. She also said there's a divine light in all of us, the phrasing of which made my sheltered Christian brain deeply uncomfortable.

My second counselor worked in my doctor's office and was also free to me. This is the one my doctor recommended when I was married but couldn't have sex. We worked on body positivity, which was good. I'd needed that for a long time. Unfortunately, it wasn't the underlying issue. Also, any exercises that she suggested were turned down by my now-ex.

My third was less official. My physiotherapist and I would talk about all sorts of things. She was Christian, so understood that perspective, and she saw a lot of women who had trouble with sex (she also saw people for other things in similar areas). She had a lot of expertise in this area, and was able to reassure me and comfort me in a way the others hadn't. It got to the point that my physio appointments, lying half naked on a hospital bed, were a highlight of my week. She's the one who passed along this piece of advice: If you're shopping for shoes, do you take a pair off the shelf, make sure they fit, and leave? Or, do you try a bunch of pairs and then make a decision based on comparison and best fit? Why, then, would you do any differently with a healthcare professional? Find someone who can relate to you and who you can relate to. Someone with whom communication is neither a barrier nor a burden, but natural.

Now, I look forward to every counselling appointment. Because I found someone who understands me and doesn't try to shove me into a box. After all, as my parents' old coworkers said, my sister thinks outside the box, but I've never seen the box.

The Bitch is Back

Hello, dear reader(s)!

Part of me feels compelled to apologize for my prolonged absence. The other, healthy part of me says "Why? Nobody's paying you. In fact, we aren't even entirely sure anyone has noticed. You are writing this blog for yourself. Do what you want with it."

But I have anxiety.

So, sorry for taking such a long break. It feels like it's been a year since I wrote. Technically, my last post was last year, but that's not what I mean and we all know it.

I will try to get back into the rhythm of writing every day. Fitting that in with my oh-so-demanding job of managing my mother's website (read: less than an hour of work on any given day) should be manageable, but it's the rest of life that has a tendency to go crazy.

Working for family is something I swore never to do again after working for my ex's uncle for a summer. Not that it was bad, but it made things awkward. See, I hadn't really found anything in common with this uncle beforehand, so all that we had in common as far as I ever knew was work. So, on one hand, I finally had something in common with him. On the other, it's not the best sort of casual conversation for family gatherings.

Working for my mother,

Pros:

• Booking time off is super easy, especially for family vacations and things.
• She knows how to tell me whether or not I'm doing a good job, and, if not, knows how to correct me (she's had 20-some years of practise)

Cons: (she might be reading this, but that's perfectly fine. Nothing to see here!)

• I mean, I can't really vent about work to my family, but it's the lowest-stress job I've ever had (see again, less than an hour of work per day).
• Not really part of a team environment (working from home on my computer), but it leaves me more available for family time.

It works out in my favour.

As for the rest of life, it's January. I try to enjoy January. I love winter, snow, coldness, and really everything about it except that everyone's holiday-ed out and not wanting to do anything and so life in general just feels blah. I mean, after Christmas (or whichever end-of-year holiday(s) you may celebrate) most people do need time to recover. I won't disagree to that. However, if we went less crazy in December and saved some energy for January, maybe January wouldn't be so terrible?

I crashed pretty hard this past weekend. I was supposed to be sociable Friday night and was exhausted, so we postponed until Saturday. I then failed to get any reasonable amount of sleep that night, but somehow felt better prepared for Saturday. Some of you may see what's coming.

My adrenaline ran out when we went out. I crashed hard. People could ask me a question and would get a blank stare in response. My choices were stare blankly or cry, so really, I was trying my best. Fortunately, the people I was being sociable with were my parents and my partner, all of whom are very understanding. This doesn't fix the problem, but it does help it to not get exponentially worse.

Sidetrack: One night I was exhausted on a bus going home from work, when a bunch (like twenty or more) drunk university students got on the bus. Being drunk, they were loud and rowdy and completely unaware of any of this. Being exhausted and having worked a seven hour shift supervising cashiers (read: dealing with problems constantly), my tolerance for such things had run out a while ago. I lasted maybe ten minutes before I started actually screaming hysterically at them to shut the fuck up. Of course, they were still drunk. I had just made a spectacle of myself, had not accomplished anything, and now half of the people on the bus were either loudly complaining about me or trying to help me without being able to comprehend that they were, in fact, part of the problem. By some miracle, in the seat in front of me was someone who knew someone with anxiety. They offered me some water and told the drunk people she'd take care of me so they backed off. We ended up coincidentally getting off the bus at the same stop, but I don't think I've seen her since.

Back on track: basically, things could be worse but I had people who understood me so it was only bad.

Went home. Honestly don't remember most of the weekend after that. There was a fair bit of sleeping. I woke up Sunday around 9pm (not "woke up" but stopped feeling completely numb and empty) and I've been feeling more like myself since. So, yesterday I catalogued every book and movie that I could find in my apartment (727 items altogether) and today I'm back to blogging.

Who knows, maybe one of these days I'll actually figure out what collection of elder signs will stop my music collection from losing all of the work I put into it every few months.

On that note (pun intended!), I leave you with one of my favourite pick-me-up songs: The Champion by Carrie Underwood & Ludacris!