therapy journey

My journey to better mental & spiritual health

Tag: conflict

Life & the human transmission tower.

There was something that I learned around the same time I started taking my happy pills, which I think is partly the reason why my mood has been so positively altered recently. I became privy to a wonderful secret, something that everybody the world over knows deep down as a self-evident truth, but perhaps it helps if it is spelt out as truths so often are overlooked or shrouded in confusion.

I’ve been reading about the law of attraction in a best-selling book called The Secret by Rhonda Byrne (Sorry if I’m a bit slow in catching on). The Secret is the law of attraction. “Everything that’s coming into your life you are attracting into your life. And it’s attracted to you by virtue of the images you’re holding in your mind. It’s what you’re thinking. Whatever is going on in your mind you are attracting to you.”

The law is infallible, absolute and holds true to matter what. Simply, thought creates reality. Thought calls the law of attraction into action. Thought it not only creative, it is the most powerful creative force in the universe, more powerful than any transmission tower on earth. Your thought creates your life and creates the world. Once upon a time, thought created the entire universe from nothing…but that’s another story. Your thoughts create the frequency of transmission, a transmission so powerful it reverberates throughout the universe. Like things on the same frequency are attracted back. Change the thoughts and the frequency changes, and what is attracted back (what forms your life experience) is changed too.

We can each, individually and collectively, have whatever we want. Whatever we most desire we can summon it into being merely by thinking about it. However, focus too much on what you don’t want and you might find yourself unwittingly attracting that into your life as well. The law of attraction is impersonal and doesn’t see the “don’t want” that precedes what you’re thinking about. Focus on your mountain of debt and you’re affirming your money woes to yourself, and broadcasting signals that attract more debt. The richest people in the world have become so by focusing on wealth and having absolute faith and trust in that. They live and breathe their dream of wealth and do not allow contradictory ideas to take hold. They have attracted prosperity into their lives using powers that we all have. What you think, you bring about.

It’s such a wonderful, comforting and true philosophy. If there were a God, it would be simply the truth of these laws. We have such great power and we don’t even realise it, imagining that we are victims of circumstances, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When I look at my life I realise how particularly with the plague of bad thought, it is so easy for it to spiral out of control. There is huge comfort in depression and other diseases of the mind, and it’s a constant challenge to resist their pull. If there were a devil, it would be the voice that says ‘make life easy for yourself, just stay in bed, everyone’s out to get you, what’s the point anyway?’

When I got ill four years ago, I attracted it to myself. I was depressed, miserable and negative; my life was closing in on itself because I let it. I wanted a way out, something to happen. So the universe gave me a disease which kills its victims when left untreated. I contracted pulmonary tuberculosis. To this day I have not been able to fathom how I contracted it. Beforehand, I was doing mad stuff like pretending I was lying in a hospital bed, dying of cancer or having attempted suicide. I was doing that kind of shit a lot – it would help me get to sleep at night. I would lie there for hours crying and wishing I wasn’t there anymore or wondering who would turn up at my bedside or funeral.

I was total crackers, and had something I term depression at the precise time that (according to the tests) my TB set in. This isn’t a coincidence, I know that now. At the time, it was blamed on everything from my giving up smoking, to the area where I lived having a high incidence of the disease. It has taken me until now to realise that I brought it on myself by my angst, fear of life, sadness and wishing for death.

I’m not perfect, and in fact I had a bit of an outburst yesterday that involved screaming and crying while my boyfriend was driving, but it was in response to something hurtful he’d done – and it was in being unfairly blamed that made me so mad. We are still very sensitive and will have incidents like that while the incredible damage to our battered souls is being repaired.

But on the whole once you know about the secret, you don’t forget it. I am harnessing what I now know and spreading it in lots of ways.

“Your life is in your hands. No matter where you are now, no matter what has happened in your life, you can begin to consciously choose your thoughts, and you can change your life. There is no such thing as a hopeless situation. Every single circumstance of your life you can change!” – Rhonda Byrne, ‘The Secret’.

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A happy story from another planet.

It’s been about two weeks now since I started taking Seroxat. I live in Spain where it is called Paroxetina Cinfa and each day I take 10mg. We buy it over the counter here without prescription. My boyfriend J and I started the self-medicating process with 4mg per day and he still takes only 5mg. I have been upping mine a little every few days because I cannot perceive an effect, but I know it must be taking the edge off.

I had been warned about possible side effects including a metallic taste in the mouth and the flavours in food being altered, dry throat and the need to drink a lot more water, rushes, face ache because of too much smiling and feeling depressed even suicidal for the first few days or weeks.

Fortunately for me I have had none of these side effects. I haven’t strongly perceived positive effects like euphoria, I am not gurning my face off like I’m on E or anything like that – but being on Seroxat has certainly has kept a lid on my depression, panic and fear. I just feel more able to deal with my life now.

I am a lot less sensitive now too. It’s as if I am able to see the bigger picture at long last instead of getting bogged down with every last little detail. I can laugh things off easier, things that would have wounded deeply before.

I am laughing much more these days. Last night I let off an incredibly bad-smelling emission from my rear end, and my boyfriend said some funny things as he was so appalled, called me a foul-bottomed woman and made me stand outside. I laughed so hard even while I was on my own outside, I was bent double unable to stop the chortles and belly laughs.

OK so maybe this kind of thing is attributable to slight euphoria from being on the tabs – I’m incredibly stubborn after all and always refused to notice any effect even from alcohol and coffee! 10mg of Seroxat must be doing something, especially for me, someone whose system is not used to any kind of psychotropic medication.

In myself I am lighter and I’m far from being on the edge of tears. In the relationship, we have crashed a couple of times – this is when we hit a brick wall usually caused by oversensitivity or poor communication, but have got over it relatively quickly and generally nipped it in the bud. This is to be expected when we spend almost all of our time together, neither of us working, speaking the language or having other close friends. In fact we do very well to make efforts to get along so well despite our recent pitfalls, and I mustn’t forget to congratulate myself for that. Kudos!

I am considering upping my dose to 15mg very soon, as while things feel good right now, I know they can be just that little bit better. I would like life to be dreamier, not forever, just to feel what it’s like.

I take zero other mind-altering substances – no alcohol, no drugs. I would like Seroxat to be my little personal pleasure. I would like it to continue transporting me to ever-more exotic and special places.

Paroxetina

Seroxat. The Crash. Harness the Power.

My aim for today (as it has been every day for the past few days) is to have a nice day, without any tears. I have been crying every day. Today I realise I have nothing to be sad about. I have all the tools to change.

I made a start with my research and found out there are four main types of often-used mental health medication. These are antidepressants – to combat depression and anxiety. Secondly antipsychotics which treat psychosis and mania. There are benzodiazepines which treat anxiety. And lastly mood stabilisers are for bipolar disorder.

Looking at the list of symptoms I am not even sure what if any mental health condition I have and I’m not about to perform a self-diagnosis. All I can say is that I recognise some facets of every condition but my symptoms aren’t strongly aligned with any particular one. I guess the only condition that I know I have had in the past, and still feel to this day, sometimes very intensely, is depression.

Before I managed to get very far down my research route (I had been putting it off for some reason), I had a chat with my boyfriend, J, and he was extremely helpful in recommending an antidepressant to me. The drug is Seroxat and it’s an SSRI (selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitor) which NICE recommends as SSRIs have fewer side-effects than other antidepressants.

According to the NHS website, Seroxat is used to treat anxiety, depression, panic disorder, OCD and PTSD. However, somewhat startlingly, some people “may find that it intensifies depression and suicidal feelings in the early stages of treatment. These people have an increased risk of self-harm or suicide in the early stages of taking Seroxat”. The tragicomic irony is not lost on me.

On paper, the drug is certainly viable for me. I have heard glowing reviews from J, who is very responsible in matters such as these. I have all but decided I will give Seroxat a go. But here’s the rub. I don’t live in the UK at the moment and so I doubt my GP back home will prescribe a drug to me knowing that I won’t be around for follow-up appointments and monitoring (and she already knows that I live abroad, as my respiratory consultant communicates with her). But it just so happens that in the country where I live, Seroxat is available over the counter.

It makes sense. I will medicate myself, with diligent research and close attention to my mental state, of course. I will err on the side of caution naturally and take slightly less than I think I can get away with. I can’t wait for the experiment to begin!

Something needs to change. I have a problem but I am by no means beyond help. Even day to day my mood is different and I wake up with incredible positivity some days which sometimes sustains for quite long periods. Life’s natural changes also contain healing within them. But I would like a break from what I call The Crash which brings with it so much pain, anger, confusion then remorse. The Crash with its endless, fetid aftermath is repulsive enough for me to resolve that enough is enough.

My new counsellor (!) my boyfriend, told me last night during a pep talk to Harness the Power. When I get the thought that I must control my emotions, it can actually be counterproductive as I end up shutting myself down and denying my feelings which only forces them out later in a violent outburst, like what happened on Robot Day. If I could only acknowledge the power of emotion, and convert it to productive ends.

The other takeaways were enjoy every moment, that’s what life’s for; be true to yourself, be kind to yourself and take consideration for those around you; you’re allowed to do whatever you want!

Robots in disguise.

Last night, at the end of a very difficult day, I inadvertently hit upon the root cause of some of my persistent upsets. I had spent the entire day behaving like a robot in an attempt to put the kibosh on those negative feelings that control me. It was an extreme version of the mantra to “act the way you want to feel”. I’d been reading about Gretchen Rubin’s attempts to do just this, and for her, happiness ensued. I wanted to feel thick-skinned, unshakeable, buoyed from within. I wanted to rise above the contingent circumstances of the everyday that constantly threaten to capsize me. I wanted to act in a generous way to my partner – apologising when I misunderstood or made a mistake rather than flying off the handle defensively as is my wont. I decided to stay quiet on the whole, waiting for my turn to speak not butting in or veering off-topic.

Unfortunately my efforts to be calm, considerate, polite and detached backfired hugely. J chided me for behaving like a robot and begged me to stop it. I could see it on his face, he grimaced with displeasure as I apologised for upsetting him and berated myself for the hundredth time that day. So that approach clearly didn’t work as no-one wants to be around a person who’s putting on a childish act. He would like me to be happy and light not to oscillate between one drama and another. And when I think about it that’s absolutely right; one of the traits I most admire in him is his steadfastness.

At the end of Robot Day I became very tired and realised (too late of course) that I was frustrated. I had almost managed to keep up the act for an entire day but at the very last moment, when I was halfway up the marble hill to Bedfordshire, J called me back saying it was rude just to disappear without so much as a by your leave. I had already squeezed every last drop into the day’s exertions so of course I lost it. I snapped. I can’t remember what was said but vitriol poured out. I stewed for a couple of minutes then headed upstairs in a stink.

I came down a few minutes later and apologised and this time I was me, not a robot. All I could say was that I was frustrated and didn’t know how to express myself. This was the root cause that I had been trying to arrive at for quite some time.

My communication is a problem. My verbal communication is slow, unintelligent and inarticulate. I write very well but I do not speak with authority and I’m unable to command the attention of my listener(s) in a conversation. As a result, I stomp my feet and shout “Hey! Listen to me! I’m talking!” which has the exact opposite effect of capturing the attention of my audience (my audience consisting of my boyfriend, J, nine times out of ten). As a result of that, I am thwarted and frustrated because I wasn’t able to get my point across effectively and the reaction of my audience was unsatisfactory. Often I just give up expressing anything. My communication needs are not being met. J has a habit of expressing one of these sentiments as a response to my best attempts at verbal communication.

“I’m sorry, what was that, I was thinking about something else”
“Do you think you could actually get to the point?”
“Anyway, back to what I’m talking about…”
“Do you mind rephrasing that more clearly?”
“I got lost halfway through”
“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah I know all of that!”

And worse are the physical gestures that accompany his responses, such as turning away, looking out of the window, looking at his phone, sighing, avoiding eye contact, making a gesture which says “And…? Hurry up!” These gestures scream impatience and lack of interest loudest of all.

Most – and I really do mean a majority – of things that I say are interrupted and talked over. That is very hard for me to admit even as a very submissive sort of person by nature. I must do something to redress this balance and my suggestion was that when our communication needs are not being met, we have to say so by stating that that is the case. It’s very simple. Just say the words, “I feel frustrated by this communication”.

I am a person accustomed to silence and lack of talking for the most part. That is how I grew up and fashioned myself especially whilst single. I like art, reading, running, sewing, writing, listening to music, watching films and other solitary pursuits. I find myself in a full-time relationship with someone that crowds my head with constant speaking. Most of it is lovely talk such as exciting ideas, plans, stories, anecdotes, facts, friendly advice and hard-won experience being imparted. He is so gifted at painting a picture with words and he’s a great role model as a communicator for me as my verbal communication level is very low.

But this constant talking from him requires a reaction and complete attention from me which saps my energy. The fast pace of his thoughts (while not manic or anything like that) is very difficult for me to keep up with as I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. I lack the mental headspace to contribute something original or interesting to the conversation as I need much more time to formulate a thought and turn that into a cogent sentence.

I spend way too much of my time in tears and it must stop. Redefining the type and quality of communication that we each need in the relationship might help to stem the feelings of helplessness and frustration that lead to dark nights of the soul.

Contemplation, medication & frustration.

I can scarcely believe that only a few short weeks ago I had the frightening complacency to write, as a concluding remark to a comment on the subject of therapy on a practitioner’s blog, “It’s traumatic to say the least but I have the sneaking feeling that ‘it’s working’ – whatever that may mean.” I really had the suspicion that the good relationship I had with my last therapist was enough to have changed me permanently. “I talk, she steers. She interprets, I listen. I confess, she challenges. She provokes, I contemplate,” I mused, smugly.

“I cannot overstate how different I feel now”, I enthused, daring to believe that all my problems had been magicked away by a few sessions of psychotherapy that in reality barely skimmed the surface. And in all truth, even a more sustained course of therapy is no panacea.

I realise now that with much sadness that my problems aren’t going away and I am looking at the possibility that no amount of positive thinking, therapy, being in love, moving to a different country, giving up alcohol, giving up having a job, and having ongoing physical health issues are going to change that. Yes all these things have happened in the recent past. Recent enough for them to take root but still to be novel, uplifting or humbling.

That doesn’t mean I’ll ever give up trying to be positive, but so often I am defeated by my simple inability to change. However, despite stubbornness, stupidity, immaturity and self-sabotage, whatever the reason, I am trying and I need to reassure myself of that. In my mind I am truly trying as hard as I can to be better, cleverer and happier but it doesn’t come across to the person that I am trying to improve myself for. My partner. I seem sarcastic when I try to be sincere. I seem absent-minded when I try my darndest to be smart. I smother when I try to be pleasant. I get angry too often and it grates. I am quagmired by frustration, self-loathing and anger and it is so horrible.

So in a last bid attempt to regain some kind of control over my temper and inner feelings of anger I wonder whether prescription medication would be the way to go?

I haven’t researched the specifics yet but I am aware that it’s certainly not to be taken lightly. I aim to use the Rethink website as a starting point. The sorts of issues that are swirling semi-formed around my head are of side effects, possible dependency down the line, and the risk of greater upsets before I find the right drug for me. I also foresee issues with my GP not being willing to prescribe a psychotropic to me – I speak from experience having gone to my doctor as a depressed 19-year old, begging for antidepressants and a “little bottle of confidence” as I wrote in my diary at the time. That was years ago. He didn’t give them to me but listened with kindness and referred me for counselling.

It’s funny, I’ve been on medication almost continually for three years now. In that time I’ve been treated for pulmonary tuberculosis twice followed by an invasive lung infection which I will have until it is cut out of me along with the cavity in my lung where it hangs out. All the time I wished for a time I could stop being on meds. In fact, I elected to stop taking my triazole antifungal for my invasive aspergillosis only a few weeks ago because I thought it might be affecting my mood. Just one of life’s little ironies I suppose.

make it work

Therapy is no magic wand.

The therapy is continuing in lots of different ways. I’m growing and learning in ways I never thought possible and reading lots though mostly from other blogs nowadays rather than books. What I’ve learned in relation to the traditional model of therapy is that it’s only useful when I’ve believed it to be useful. That is, I, the patient, determine the usefulness of the therapy. It works if I say so.

I adopt a multi-pronged approach, and have become something of a therapy junkie throughout my journey. I have been asked by various friends and other therapists recently whether therapy is “working”. I really don’t know what to say. It clearly isn’t, because all the hours I’ve spent talking to therapists haven’t changed my behaviour in certain situations.

It took me months to find the therapist, G, that has helped me the most – by that I mean the one who I feel most comfortable with, I respect as an individual, and whose advice, analysis and agenda I most value. What I am basically saying is that I like her as a person. We get on well. We can hold a conversation.

In this way I find solace in a relationship that society says can cure me of my psychological ailments; my mental and behavioural stumbling blocks. We have preordained roles and sometimes resort to stock phrases. Like doomed lovers conducting an illicit affair, there is no preamble and no outro to our encounters, it’s straight to business. The validity of the therapeutic transaction is confirmed by the exchange of money – an amount that isn’t to be sniffed at. Afterwards I am left confused, traumatised, enraged sometimes, comforted that someone understands other times… but there is never any question that this therapy is an  unequivocally Good Thing.

I wouldn’t say I have any doubts about the therapeutic process, even if the intervention is nothing more than offloading to a nice person who understands and challenges me. I worry that surely therapy is the end of the road. If it doesn’t “work” then what else is there to try? Happy pills? Joining a cult? Self-flagellation? Going back to my bad old ways?

Where my doubts lie are in myself. I embrace therapy and I know I’m doing it right because it’s painful afterwards, the psychological equivalent of being punched in the stomach. It’s a similar feeling actually, like the wind’s been taken right out of me. But the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and so far I have not turned into a very tasty dish. I’m still bitter in just about every way imaginable. I’m still angry, it’s right there, bubbling beneath the surface like lava in a volcano.

Yes, deep psychotherapy has helped me understand the causes of my upsets, and makes me very sad in fact as I come to terms with a wasted childhood. But as far as its ability to make me a better person – the person I was always meant to be, before being consumed by negativity – the progress is patchy. I continually mess up, and have recently reverted to appalling behaviours that I thought were behind me.

More recently though, there has been a glimmer of hope. I have been the shining beacon that is going to help myself out of the darkness. I am in the process of making myself more resilient, empathetic, grateful, humble, forgiving and loving. It is in my power alone.

I’ve been told by someone in the blogosphere to relax and observe whether I’m resisting or allowing each moment. Go general. Find soothing, relaxing thoughts. Be easy on myself. Have fun. Take deep breaths. find things to appreciate. Don’t resist the present moment & don’t resist life.

I would like to do all of these things and keep doing them until they become second nature, regardless of the setbacks and endless barrage of feelings I contend with. I would like to experience enough constant faith in myself that even a rough patch with my partner doesn’t derail it. At the moment my entire happiness seems to be dependent on our relationship. J’s also very sensitive (though sometimes seems incredibly insensitive as a coping mechanism), so everything rubs off on him and is exacerbated ten times. That is how we got ourselves worked up into such a lather before.

Learning self-belief and acceptance are so important to individual happiness. I’m doing very well with my previous resolutions – calmness, sobriety, my own interests, not using the language of blame, and sitting above the situation in hand – and over the weekend notched up gold stars on each. I stood up for myself in a very calm and inclusive way, and realised as I spoke what is important for me as regards my life goals.

I’ve got more therapy tonight with G – my last session before I leave the country for up to 8 months. I am looking forward to discussing my issues but I hope this is the end to some of my more unproductive introspection which I acknowledge can lead to unhappiness and resentment of the status quo.

There is no magic wand, there is only belief.

May Resolutions. Being more boring.

Enough time has passed for me to accept and try to move on from the weekend’s poisonous events. Knowing that I can’t unf**k the goat, I can at least do everything I can to prevent my pattern of idiocy to perpetuate any longer.

I have done this coming to terms largely away from J, on my own and with other people, as it’s the only way I can right now. I don’t want to talk to him about any of our issues for fear of causing an upset. I believe that if I can get things sorted in my own mind, my behaviour will be nice which in turn will lead him to be nice. Then maybe we can talk but only when we’re really strong again.

I have come to realise a few things in general. Call them resolutions. Firstly, I must be calm. There is a long, painful recovery period from my abusive behaviour for both of us. I am so shell-shocked I could have behaved like I did that I get into beating-myself-up mode, which means my already battered self-worth goes through the floor. I go into a sort of denial where I expect sympathy because I see myself as the victim. It’s strangely f***ed up.

Secondly, I must stay off booze. It doesn’t agree with me. It makes me aggressive. And seeing as I don’t start feeling that I have had too many after two or four or five, it’s safer to avoid it altogether. I have recently been made aware of alarming incidents that happened years ago that I genuinely could not recall. And it wasn’t just once or twice, it was every time. My friends dreaded being out with me. I did not know that…

Next, I must retain my own interests in order to boost my sense of self. In an intense relationship, it’s all too tempting to dissolve yourself into the other, seeking validation from just one source. It seems absurd even, to devote time to friends, new experiences and hobbies that take you away from the relationship you’re trying so hard to fix. The relationship becomes a full time occupation and everything else is just a distraction. This isn’t healthy.

Number four, when a situation progresses into a conflict, I should explain how the matter in hand affects me. I can explain how this is against my values or I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that, instead of nitpicking, criticising or attacking. Sentences should start with “Right now I feel” rather than “You always… You’re such a….”

The fifth point is to do with my boyfriend in particular. He has been known to twist the knife and to wait for a reaction. He’s a great one for picking fights and winding people up, particularly girlfriends. He likes the drama of conflict (I am exactly the same!). I guess we both like it for the same reason: it reminds you that you’re not dead. I actually want to be more boring! Maybe that means staying in more, watching TV, cleaning, reading, sewing. Maybe that means agreeing with him instead of rising to the bait. Maybe that means taking a step back and observing a situation rather than being tangled up in it and powerless to see what’s actually going on. So that’s a tricky one to summarise so I’ll just say I hope to be boring, agreeable and somewhat detached.

I cannot ask my boyfriend, or anyone else for that matter, to change. I can only work on changing my perceptions and behaviour. I can change how I let the outside world affect my inner state.

To this end I attended by first CBT session on the NHS last night. I had been waiting for three months, but I realise my problems have not changed a jot. I only have time for one session before I leave the country and will therefore have to wait six months or so until I am back to arrange a course of sessions. However it was still useful. The therapist drew three bubbles, the emotion I felt during the incident, the thoughts that were going through my head as a result of that emotion, and the behaviour that is manifested by the thoughts. The chain that we seek to break in the CBT process is between (irrational) thoughts and behaviour. I was challenged, which is very important to my recovery.

I was given two online resources I can use while away. They are Moodgym and the Centre for Clinical Interventions.

When I return here in a few months, I hope to continue with the CBT which deals very much with the here and now, and concurrently to take the NLP/ Biodynamic/ Integrative Arts psychotherapy approach in which I can address childhood issues. I’d like to think of recent events as minor speedbumps, not proof that I am beyond help.

Throwing the first punch.

I’m drowning in a sea of confusion and hurt feelings. I’m angry with myself, mired by frustration and denied longings. I have deep despair for myself. I am completely unhappy and frankly don’t know how I am coping. There is no way I can even express this. It’s me and my own bad behaviour that’s getting me down.

It’s also that my boyfriend J treats me with utter contempt in the aftermath of my dick-like behaviour – every sick thing he does being totally justified because ‘I started it’. It was me that started it and I take responsibility for that 100%. I have apologised with words and actions but my apologies are not accepted. It wears me down to the point of exhaustion to be vilified like this. To be told as I have been many times ‘I hate you’ by my partner leaves a mark that takes a lot of love, time and possibly an apology to heal. But I am not going to get an apology, not going to get a chance to talk about what happened. I have been called an abuser, so I think maybe that’s all I am somewhere deep down.

I’m sick of being told everything is my fault. I already know everything is my fault, everything I do is wrong and everything he does is perfectly sane and justified. I’m sick of being made to feel worthless because I f***ed up. I’m sick of not having a voice and being told constantly by him that I can’t talk. I’m constantly dragged down to his own extreme anger, contagious negativity and all-consuming depression. I caused all of those things, so I can suffer too.

Can I rise above the insults and the battles? Yes, if I were feeling strong and had time and space to heal my literal wounds in private. But instead, we carry on as if nothing happened, I put a brave face on and spin the alternative version of the weekend’s violence to other people, the resentments meanwhile growing ever stronger between us until someone blows up and it’s a full on fight again.

Why can’t we talk about the incidents that have happened in order to reduce the likelihood of similar things happening in the future, and to gain closure? Because there’s never a good time. And besides, why dredge up the painfully raw past when you can just pretend it never happened? After all, I should be glad that he still wants to know me, and doesn’t just dump me without a second thought.

I called the Samaritans for the first time ever today. It wasn’t hard picking up the phone or talking to the woman on the other end. She asked me some very probing questions, which I wasn’t expecting. The upshot of which is, of course everything is my fault, I really do have to believe that. I don’t know what I was expecting. Sympathy? I deserved everything I got. All I can do is to work on changing my own behaviour. Getting off booze again, which I was off incidentally for around three months until two weekends ago. Some other advice I got was to find an external focus or some inner peace – something that gets me away from constant thinking about and possible conflict with J. The problem with that is that I feel trapped in this relationship, as every spare evening I have after my full-time job that isn’t given over to exercise, therapy or my part-time job it is demanded I go straight home to help him with pressing household tasks.

Forgive? Forget? I wish I was a bigger person. Right now I don’t see it.