I posted a couple of letters to my psychologist this morning, outlining the direction I think we should go in and asking a couple of questions. Now the predictable waves of shame and fear. Jane dared to have an opinion and ask for what she needs. Oh no, the world will surely end!
I asked her how long she could see me because I was getting annoyed with myself for not just coming out and saying it, for writing umpteen letters asking it and sending none of them. How pathetic! Of course it’s a fairly safe question to ask given that she’s now said things that indicate therapy won’t be ending in the near future as I feared, but I still have all the anxiety over it.
I also asked if she can help me find a way to explain things to my CPN and OTA. I have all this support, see, but I’m not sure that having all this support is an entirely good thing because I’m saying different things/being different selves/using different languages and understandings with each of them, and it’s just adding to my confusion.
And of course a new support worker just got added to the mix, which is yet another complicated relationship to navigate when I’m still trying to work on the relationships within myself, between parts. She came round this morning and we had a cup of tea and a chat. I needed lorazepam and birdsong afterwards, which I have a feeling isn’t the point. I’m just not sure that it’s going to work, or what her role is going to be. I am quite relieved not to be seeing her again until next week, to have five days, after tomorrow’s dreaded haircut, where I don’t have to interact with anyone.