Sitting vulnerably opposite someone who claims to be a professional telling you that “you are your problem, you need to change your attitude and just go to the gym, you need to sort of pull yourself together” is not the most therapeutic experience. Fact.

I was accessing therapy through a work based assistance programme, they had matched me with a therapist near me and were funding 6 sessions. I had accessed talking therapy privately last year, successfully, the sessions were tough but they helped and I stuck with it for around 7 months. This was a little different, I had been lower than ever and it took me almost 6 weeks to even entertain the thought of therapy, when I finally got round to setting up an initial appointment following a nudge from my GP, my boss and my family, I was so anxious, I knew it was going to expose some things that I didn’t want to talk about and I knew that it was going to be raw.

Therapy isn’t easy. You should know that. It’s god damn awful to start off with, and you shouldn’t go into therapy if you aren’t ready to talk, you really shouldn’t. However, if done right, therapy should strip you bare, allowing you to dive deep into yourself, before enabling you to build back up, put some things in boxes and help with managing your emotions and moving forward. You shouldn’t expect, in the first few sessions to feel excited or in any way happy about going to therapy. But if you can, and if it’s right (and only if it’s right) stick with it, it will be a rough ride, but a worthwhile one. Trust me.

I went into therapy, this time, dosed up to my eyeballs on medication but just about ready to talk. I felt very vulnerable, anxious and in need of some guidance and a hell of a lot of reassurance, but I knew I would be able to vocalise some of how I was feeling, after 6 weeks of silent turmoil. It was around 10am on a Wednesday morning, the weather was doing its thing and fabulously mimicking how I was feeling by tipping its guts out in the form of torrential rain, I wore loose comfy clothing and shoved my hair up. I sat in my car for 4 minutes before getting out and walking slowly into the building. A jolly man (yeah, he was a bit chubby) asked for my name and told me to take a seat on some very unwelcoming and uncomfortable plastic chairs, the therapist was running a bit late and would be here soon. (Now side step for a moment, sitting awkwardly on an uncomfortable chair and not knowing when your appointment will begin, is enough to possibly make the most healthy person a little uneasy, but me, in that moment…. well I think you get the picture, I digress..) The therapist arrived, apologetically, with around 14 bags for life, and soaking wet. She was an older lady, I’d put her early 60s, with a petite frame, short (sorry but clearly died) blonde hair and a stern face. She rushed through and told me to wait whilst she “set up”. I was growing increasingly tempted to stand up and walk straight out the door, but, alas I stayed. I walked into the tiny room with no windows and sat down on conservatory furniture, she sat opposite me, there were 2 lamps on and the room was cold. I put my hands between my legs, felt my shoulders hunch and we began, “well you can’t judge a book by its cover” I thought as I let her begin talking. It turns out, sometimes you fucking can.

I will spare you too much of the content of my first and second therapy session. I had decided to go back a second time, giving in to my own pressure and thoughts that maybe I was being a little over sensitive to her stern, pressing and cold personality. I came out of the second session feeling much like I did from the first one, overwhelmed, completely beaten and slept for 3 hours. Lowlights of the session included stunning lines such as; “aren’t you worried that your job will be in jeapordy if you don’t go back soon”. The smug smile that adjourned her face made me feel stupid and I came out feeling vulnerable and bullied. Having spoke to those close to me, they were horrified, which was sort of a relief. I never went back.

Therapy is important, and has worked for me in the past, but much like a relationship, you have to have the right connection, you are offloading a very personal and raw side of yourself.

I have, unfortunately, now decided to not find another therapist. I am not ready to have to start all over again and feel quite let down by talking therapy. I hope in the future I build myself back up and find the confidence to talk again. For now I am using alternative tactics; exercising, sitting and listening to the waves and enjoying the sunshine.

Try therapy, do try it. It does work. Please don’t be put off by my second experience. But do make sure you are ready to talk and do not feel that it has to work right away, give it time. And if you don’t feel trust, comfort and reassurance from the professional you are sitting across from. Stop. Don’t make yourself more unwell conforming. Especially if it is next level UNtheraputic.

Hang in there.

Ellen on the Edge xx