It's Good To Talk

                I went to see a counsellor for assessment, to see if I needed long-term counselling (I do). Same institute as a decade ago,same central heating cranked up to maximum. Sitting in the waiting room, I felt like a failure.

                I wonder when there will be light at the end of the tunnel. When I can wake up and not feel anxious, not wonder what the point of it all is or when am I going to feel as happy as everyone else seems to be. I’m a mess.

                I felt teary in the session. My assessor was younger than me. She listened sympathetically as I told her about my life. Was I making it sound worse than it was? No. While I’m luckier than a whole lot of people (I wouldn’t want to live in either Syria or Yemen at the moment, for instance), I still felt angry at the way things have been. Not only for me, but for the people around me. I feel so alone. I wish I could join an organization to fight it, but an organization made up of reasonable people, not cranks and nutcases.

                When I left, I felt a weight had been lifted from me, and I’ve felt a little better ever since.