Well that escalated quickly.
I knew going in to today’s therapy session that I was more heavily burdened by my stupid crap than I was last week because I’d spent the weekend wading thigh high in it all trying to work out what is ok, what is reasonably well managed and what still creates problems for me. I wasn’t expecting miracle resolutions in an hour which is just as well because my therapist wants to take a step back again and consult with colleagues to make sure his kind of help is exactly what is required for me.
He’s not passing the buck or trying to give someone else a hot potato (oh yay, cliches, I must be mentally tired) but genuinely wants to ensure that the work he has in mind is the most suitable route through the stuff he and I are now both painfully aware of as being my shit.
So in one sense I feel I am getting the right sort of response from the mental health services as they try to work out the best possible way forward for me but in another sense I feel like I’ve taken a step backwards today and have to hang on while the new consultation process takes place. I am lucky in that I can go see my GP and talk with her in the interim, even if just for a few minutes to check in and clarify that I’m coping ok while waiting. I know my processes well enough to understand if my risk factors have just increased and, despite deflation and frustration, they haven’t.
But hey ho, this fucking stuff is complex and tiresome, isn’t it? Or is it me that’s complex and tiresome? Quite probably, which is why they’re needing to take extra time to find the best way of helping me. I was frequently referred to by one teacher at school as a problem child. Looks like the cap still fits. (And another cliche.)