Here we are again....

I look longingly at the sweet morsels in the glass cabinet. I get to choose some today, but they aren't for me. My favourite is the pan au chocolat, but there aren't any there today anyway. The group at the office could enjoy raspberry, white chocolate, cinnamon brioche....

I collected my coffee and boxed up muffins, and headed back up the hill.

My knees groaned and I winced. I paused at the top of the hill to catch my breath.

Nyah has so lovingly packed a healthy lunch and a little container of nuts. I know that sugar is my downfall, and she is trying so hard to give me alternatives.

But I still struggle. My doctor says my blood sugar results are 'surprisingly good.' Surprisingly, because I am technically obese. My elevated heart rate is within the realms of normal, but would probably come down with better cardio vascular fitness and some weight loss.

But nothing seems urgent. The quarter of a cinnamon brioche and quarter of a raspberry and white chocolate muffin that found their way into my hands and into my mouth do not suggest a sense of urgency.

Back in 2012 and 2013 I weighed ten kilograms more, and struggled with self loathing because of it. I was tormented by a shape I didn't recognise and struggled with feminist ideals of body positivity vs not actually feeling like myself.

Now I feel more like myself than ever, yet my body is still trying to betray me.

I came to realise that the motivators around external validation and appearance held more weight (pun not intended) than very real health concerns. I don't have concerns about how I look, and am having fun with my appearance. But I took a panadol this afternoon to stop my back hurting, and I hobble when I get out of my chair to walk to the kitchen.

As I head towards being closer to my 'mid forties' than my 'early forties' my back, my knees, my heart are all telling me that I need to do something. I even have a loving partner to help me achieve it.

Why the resistance? Or not even resistance - a simple lack of will. Why do the motivators of appearance matter than the potential of reduced mobility and energy?

Maybe its time to look back to another part of 2012 where my therapist turned over rocks and found that lack of self care is linked to lack of self worth.

I might know myself better than ever before, but the question is, have I learned to love myself?

Get that woman into therapy now...

This was a jokey line that my husband and I used to use when we watched The X-Files.  Agent Scully was always finding her way into a jam...and you know, stuff like being abducted and probed by aliens would likely cause many psychological problems.

At that time, it never would have occurred to me that one day it would be me in therapy.  But today I graduated from it.

Right after Mum died, I didn't really feel I needed counselling, but later, even before my breakdown, I knew things weren't quite right, and I started a search for a good therapist.  I had recommendations from friends, from family, from someone with insight into which therapists were best trained in cognitive behavioural therapy.  I had numbers, I had names.  But I didn't do anything.

Leaving things in my own hands doesn't always work well, and I found I had to wait until I was pushed to crisis point before I could make that step.  Once I had the breakdown, I went to the GP and told him point blank that I needed to be referred to someone.  I needed to be told what to do, where to go and who to see.  I received six funded psychotherapist sessions and was on my way.

Enter Linda.*  With appointment duly arranged, I turned up at the unassuming offices that made up the substantial practice that Linda was a part of.  Linda met me at reception, and led me up to her office tucked away upstairs.  She was a striking looking woman in her early 40s with big green eyes, who walked like a dancer and always had grey regrowth showing at the roots of her long brown hair.

Fortunately, I had been pre-warned by a friend that I might wonder what was being achieved in the beginning.  There was a bit of knitted eyebrows, nodding, 'Hmmmm..' and 'tell me about your mother.' 

But over time, we managed to get to the bottom of how deeply my loss had effected me.  Linda helped me understand the gravity of what had happened, and helped me deal with how my body was processing what was going on in my mind.

But not only that, she helped me get to the bottom of other anxieties that had plagued me for years.  Health anxiety was a major one for me.  A headache or pain anywhere on my body would set me off on a spiral of anxiety about having a brain tumor or a heart attack.  Linda helped me understand that this was likely a physical response to what was going on in my head.  Not only this, she taught me about how to stop pushing against my feelings, and start accepting them and working through them, rather than shoving them in the closet and pushing the door shut...even if all my baggage wasn't going to fit in there.  Banging up against a brick wall doesn't get you very far.

Today I started our session by saying that I was thinking of ditching her, but how would I know I was ready? So the hour became a retrospective of the last six months, and what I had achieved.  Linda has the skills to get into my head and to come up with something pithy that perfectly describes what I am thinking but fail to articulate, and many of our breakthroughs will stay with me for life.

In 'Serendipity' my mother talks about the profound effect her psychotherapist had on her life in 1972-73.  She considers him her lifesaver - to the point that she was still contacting him periodically decades later.

Going to therapy is interesting, because you develop a very intimate relationship with someone over time, yet of course that relationship is always one sided.  Mothers often talk about the relationship they have with their midwives.  Perhaps these sorts of professional relationships are unique because those particular practioners are present in our lives at times when we are going through great change.

With Linda's help, I am able to understand that I have been through a life changing experience.  Something in me is different, and something in me is missing.  As Linda said to me today, loss finds a place to settle.  That feeling is never gone, but finds its place in your new life - the new life you have without that person.

After this debrief session, Linda said 'You'll be fine.'  And you know, I think she's right.  There will still be ups and downs.  But yes, I think I'll be fine.



*Not her real name.  And it feels really weird calling her something else.