Too Little, Too Late

I have spoke to a counsellor four times in my life. Each one of those times, I went once. Once was enough. I took one statement away from each one of those visits and life moved on.

I spoke to a counsellor when Dad moved to a care home where he lived out the remainder of his life. I have no idea what my side of the conversation was but I do remember her telling me to guide my actions based on what I would be able to live with after he was gone.

Thirty five years later, I believe I would have reacted differently. But I cannot go there. I was young and naive. I did my best.

My husband and I spoke to a counsellor after a particularly bad incident within our marriage. I remember little of the conversation. I do remember the counsellor asking why we would want to save this marriage.

Perhaps that is a blanket statement a marriage counsellor asks each couple they speak to, so the discussion focuses on the positive. The message I heard at the time was, "Walk away while you can ..." So (eventually), that is exactly what I did.

I was still young and naive, but by the time I walked away from my marriage for the third and final time, I was starting to get a little wiser.

The third counsellor I saw was while I was trying to work through a toxic work situation. The first 55 minutes of the session felt like they were straight out of Psychology 101. I was given strategies and tools that I already had and used. I graduated her elementary school of psychology with honors long before she did. I sat in her office feeling frustrated and like I wasn't being heard.

Finally, in the final five minutes of the session she heard what I was telling her. I was in a no win situation at work. I needed some tools to help me deal with my reality because I had no intention of quitting. In those final minutes she quickly told me to make notes, write down dates, times, incidents and all the details I may need to have so I could defend myself.

In the end, the job could not be saved. My boss' boss told me "I was hoping it would not come to this" when I offered this evidence to him.

I wished I had booked a dance lesson in lieu of my hour of therapy which was not enough to save my sanity AND my job. It took a very long time to recover from that blow.

Fast forward to yesterday. My fourth appointment with a counsellor.

I saw my doctor on January 16th. I knew I was slipping into something deep. I was coping but I asked for help.

I passed all cursory tests and was deemed good enough to call and ask to be put on a waiting list for counselling.

I waited almost three months before I called to ensure I was still on the list. I couldn't stop crying as I spoke to the person on the phone. She offered to fast track me through the wait list to someone who could talk to me before I made it to the regular counsellors. Except that person was on holidays.

Three more weeks of waiting ...

The snow melted during that time and the miraculous healing powers of sunshine, warmth and life beckoning at me to join in was enough to pull me up and out of where I was at. I haven't felt this normal for a very long time.

My appointment was yesterday.

Perhaps it is a little bit like taking a car to the mechanic when it is not presently making the noise you want the mechanic to fix. How do you offer to treat a person in a depressed and anxious state, when they appear to have snapped out of it? You don't.

I spoke of the cyclical nature of my moods and ability to cope. This has been a lifetime condition but I have managed to go from mountains and abysses, to hills and valleys. Except, this last time I fell longer, harder and deeper than I had been before. With one notable exception. I was comfortable there and didn't have the desire nor willpower to pull myself up and out.

I asked for a road map for the next time this may happen.

I was given a sheet of statements to read when I feel this encompass me again. Statements which I could have and may have already written myself.

I was told to see my doctor if I felt this coming. I did that.

I was told if this were to happen again, I would be put on the wait list. Again. But to tell them I needed to speak to someone before that, if I felt the need. I did that too.

I felt like I wasted my time and hers by going to talk to someone when I had already found a rope to hang onto and pull myself up and out of where I had been.

When I told her I felt that winter was a time I felt particularly vulnerable. She recommended I book a winter holiday.

Obviously, I didn't need help after all. As I told her my story, she said little. She seemed to recognize that I already had the tools she was about to offer me.

Maybe I should simply take up dancing again...

P.S. I have just realized that perhaps these "lessons I've learned through counselling" may be enough. More tomorrow...