Yesterday was harder than I thought it was going to be.

After all the time I’ve spent thinking about my Issues,  I didn’t really have much to say actually.  I even kinda didn’t want to talk to her, but maybe I was just pissed off because I had to throw my plastic down before I was allowed to do the session?

I had to do a Suicide Contract because my psychoanalysis report said I was at “High Risk”.  When I tried to explain that was exaggerated cause the weekend before I did the testy thing hadn’t exactly been a high-point, she took a little while to remember the note in the report that warned some of the data might be skewed because I’m unhinged. 

Which seems to kinda defeat the purpose of this test as a diagnostic tool, but whatever.

I guess I also kinda lied about how far I went with my ’suicidal thoughts’ two weekends ago.  I took 3 sleeping pills cause I was totally stressed out over stuff and I wanted to do was sleep so I would stop crying and carrying on, and the regular “calming” dose (half a tablet) wasn’t working.   I told her that bit.  I didn’t tell her that I took the 22 pills I had left in the packet and looked at them and thought about taking all of them.  Obviously I didn’t take them, cause I’m not that clichéd, but I did have the blister sheets in my hand before I eventually drifted off. 

So yeah.  I semi-seriously thought about it.  I called M the moment I woke up and told him all about it, so it all passed blah blah blah.

Anyway, I agreed to not act on any further thoughts before my next appointment with her, to make an emergency appointment if I need to, and to get in touch with M or Little Brother.

The next part of the session was where I sat there fiddling with my hair lackies and couldn’t think of what to say.

Awkward.

It was easy with my last psychologist, Dr S, cause he treated Little Brother and he knew exactly what was up with my family and he Got me pretty quickly.  So I’m struggling trying to open up with Dr H.  M reminded me that since I’m in for like 2 years of counselling, it doesn’t matter that it’s going slow, and maybe he’s right.

Dr H made an interesting observation though.  That my voice gets all tight and throaty when I’m talking about stuff I don’t feel like talking about, and that I get all curt and polite, and I sort of hunch up on the couch.  She’s right.  I could feelmy throat being all tight and constricted.  I hadn’t noticed that before.   But I definitely do it, I know I’m all curt when I speak to Father now.  Cause I don’t want to let my guard down.  And because it’s a massive struggle for me to talk about something things without bursting into tears, and I guess I try to block the crying and weeping with my throat.

Then when I was talking about something I was reasonably ok with (my academic achievements), my voice got deeper, more relaxed, less restricted, and I was more animated with hand gestures etc.

Discovery re self: I blather a lot, but I never actually say what I want or needto say.  Like in this blog.  I’ve been doing posts on superficial shit like organisation and sleep and money but I have yet to talk about my childhood, I didn’t even mention what happened the weekend before last when I considered suicide and nor did I comment on the weird sad/guilty/messed-up feelings I got when Father emailed me last week, trying to be helpful and it ended with me saying “Please don’t start this. I don’t have the time.”

I do want to talk about these things, I’ve hinted at the dodgy childhood thing a few times, but yeah, I find excuses to not write about them.

Homework for week: Read online therapy article on “Mindfulness” and observe the way my voice is when I’m talking and keep a note of what I’m talking about when I notice these voice changes.