Many of you will know that my counselling with Chris is ending on the 4th of January, which I’m terrified about. I would normally be there this afternoon and again next week, but the counselling agency is, understandably, closed for two weeks for the Christmas holidays and New Year. The best way I can cope with the absence of my session today is to write, so I thought I’d write a simple poem for my new, as yet unknown counsellor.
Dear Unknown Counsellor,
I’m devastated and so upset to be away from Chris I’ve fallen into the darkness and straight into the abyss
I’ve no idea when I’ll meet you Apparently, there’s a queue Otherwise known as a waiting list How long? I wish I knew
I do hope that we’ll get on and in you, I’ll learn to trust I hope you’ll understand my truths and not view me with disgust
I write a lot of poetry and dabble with some ‘art’ It’s just how I express myself pouring out the whole of my heart
I have a problem with anger I can’t get it off my chest I can’t scream into a pillow although I’ve tried my best
I hope I get to meet you soon I’m scared out here all alone I’ve been so lucky to have Chris and the care that she has shown
*Please take away the ticking of the therapy room’s clock It reminds me of the horror room and the door with the bolted lock
My heart is already broken in two I have one more week; then, the end I hope my words are acceptable and these thoughts that I have penned
Where do I begin with you? Do I have to start over again? I think I could talk forever dispelling this huge weight of pain.
Most of you who know me will have learned that my desperately-needed counselling has to come to an end on the 4th of January 2023 (straight after the New Year). I’m on a two-week break over Christmas at the moment. You know how terrified I am of being without Chris. I’m still on a long waiting list to enable me to see someone else; this is likely to be months rather than weeks. All the things and emotions I’ve shared with her, some of which I’ve never shared with anyone before, where do they go? Do I have to begin all over again with a new person? I’m not sure I coud bear that.
I wanted to write something for Chris to express my gratitude for all the work we’ve done together, but also to share my fear of coping without her to speak to every Wednesday.
I wanted to write something purely for you to say thank you for all that you’ve done and do I came, and you helped me to open my heart You’ve listened to poems and seen bits of art
You’ve travelled my journey alongside with me through all the depression and anxiety We tried to deal with my muddled eating That was the first thing we intended treating
But, then came the flashbacks of child sex abuse A crime committed with no good excuse I shared secrets I’d never discussed before Felt guilty as hell as I stared at the floor
You’ve been by my side and witnessed my pain Taught me I’m worthy and have lots to gain You’ve reassured me I wasn’t to blame and helped me let go of the awful shame
Trying to deal with my anger was tough I couldn’t scream or shout loud enough I did once throw hard clay at the chair Tried to imagine the bastard sat there
I poured out my soul in words, rhyme and tears and looked at my strengths and all of my fears I’m so grateful to you for hearing my truth of long, long ago, back in my youth
You’ve listened to secrets and made me feel brave and I’m dreading our final goodbye and last wave How do I live with this loss and my pain? I just can’t believe I won’t see you again.
My heart is still heavy, but I’m wanting to write I’ve opened my ears and sharpened my sight I’m trying my best to keep trudging along Not to do anything drastic or wrong
Spent the weekend with the kids and my son I’ve let go of the thoughts of firing the gun Thanks to my friends here for sticking by me Without all of you, I’d doubt I’d still be
I’m busy this week, which might just be good Not really up to it, but know that I should Still don’t feel able to read a lot My stomach just feels full of knots
Christmas, for me, is a lonely time But, I guess I’ll have quiet to pen a rhyme Lost my Mum on the 30th of December During the holidays, it’s tough to remember
I’ve still got an awful long way to go The process is still incredibly slow I’m dreading my therapy, with the end being near January the fourth, I’m still full of despair
Before that time comes, there’s a three-week break The thought of this makes me a physically ache With the end being nigh, and that’ll be that Somebody else will sit where I once sat
After that, I have to wait on the list My counsellor will be so sorely missed Everything is exposed and so raw Will it be like this forevermore?
Just to let you know, I’m taking things slowly with getting back to reading and commenting and am limiting myself to just a few blog posts a day for the time being. I’m missing all my regular bloggers, but am doing the best that I can. I wanted to write something today and will probably continue to do so as the days go by because it helps me to process my feelings. I’ve got a very busy few days coming up (unusual for me), so please bear with me. Thank you to all of you, my readers and regular bloggers, for having faith in me and for your kind patience.
A sense of numbness resides in my brain. protecting me from the constant, repeating pain of losing not a loved one but someone I treasure whose help and support have been words I could measure
Six weeks of sessions left may sound like a lot but from my side of the fence, it feels like it’s not as my mind takes over and makes all the rules I still dissociate and find myself staring at walls
I go elsewhere in my head to escape the trauma that exists in my core with me trapped in the corner with him calling the shots; the bastard, the shit I’m rarely foul-mouthed, but he deserves all of it
I must try my best with the short time I have left Try not to melt or disappear when feeling bereft The time will go quickly; then, they’ll be no more C* I wonder and worry how much they’ll be left of me
If I find someone new; if I get on the long list I’ll still wish I was with C*; she’ll be so sorely missed It won’t be the same as when I first started out Will I be able to trust again? Right now, I’m in doubt
Now I’m counting the minutes, the hours and the days like a kindergarten game or a new nursery craze There’s so much of me still needing to mend Who will I finally be if I ever get to the end?