A new chapter.
So today I started CBT, cognitive behavioural therapy to those uninitiated who may think taking a motorcycle test isn't a big step.
To me though, that would be a big step. I am a man who would rather hide in his shadows than challenge myself, however, I digress. My 1st CBT appointment. Something I had planned since first seeing my doctor, something that I wanted, something to make me stronger. Or to look at it another way, something to worry about, something to try and wriggle out of, something to fear. Stupid? Well yeah, you read the first blog, logic long left the building and took the keys.
I knew I was dreading it coz I was irritable, my middle child will never complain about having a shower again though I guess. My Mrs would later call all this a wobble, and who am I to argue. The woman knows me better than me, and this came through during the appointment. However, first my brain and I had to attend.
Even walking to the building that my session was in, I was telling myself I could still escape. Tell people I went and pretend all is good. The me of 2016 would've done that. Chris 2017 rebuild fights now though. Well I say fights. He throws a punch, misses and falls over but it's progress.
So there I am, stood at the door, pressing the buzzer to be let in. "Hello?" Oh god she's cheery, what do I do? I begin a war and peace version of my appointment letter before I'm interrupted with "come on up". Previously my CBT has been at a doctors where the receptionist didn't want to know you, so a welcoming voice immediately threw me. I took a seat, and was soon joined by 3 other "clients", all looking petrified and bouncing legs up and down with anxiety and giving out the occasional nervous laugh. Was this me? Are they seeing me the same way. A man so obsessed by his phone he may as well leave it out of his damn pocket.
After a quick ironic blast of black hole son by soungarden, and cryin' by aerosmith, on the radio, I was called in.
Tamara, my therapist was lovely, but holds no prisoners. The introduction to CBT meant me answering hypothetical questions. Staring in to space apparently isn't the answer to talking therapy, but you know what? It got me talking.
Through talking, I discovered the reason I feel better is through the increased support from friends and colleagues and of course mystic Mrs, my wife who knows which way I'm heading way before I do.
We've already identified I will always prefer to deal with problems by myself, and take on more and more until, like the Saturday boy in Harvester, things just crash around me.
It's only the first session, but really I just wanted to thank you all for your support, or indifference towards my illnes, it's clearly helped me move on, and that's a professional opinion.
However, next week we're tackling my lack of confidence and self esteem. Now then, where can I hide.
So today I started CBT, cognitive behavioural therapy to those uninitiated who may think taking a motorcycle test isn't a big step.
To me though, that would be a big step. I am a man who would rather hide in his shadows than challenge myself, however, I digress. My 1st CBT appointment. Something I had planned since first seeing my doctor, something that I wanted, something to make me stronger. Or to look at it another way, something to worry about, something to try and wriggle out of, something to fear. Stupid? Well yeah, you read the first blog, logic long left the building and took the keys.
I knew I was dreading it coz I was irritable, my middle child will never complain about having a shower again though I guess. My Mrs would later call all this a wobble, and who am I to argue. The woman knows me better than me, and this came through during the appointment. However, first my brain and I had to attend.
Even walking to the building that my session was in, I was telling myself I could still escape. Tell people I went and pretend all is good. The me of 2016 would've done that. Chris 2017 rebuild fights now though. Well I say fights. He throws a punch, misses and falls over but it's progress.
So there I am, stood at the door, pressing the buzzer to be let in. "Hello?" Oh god she's cheery, what do I do? I begin a war and peace version of my appointment letter before I'm interrupted with "come on up". Previously my CBT has been at a doctors where the receptionist didn't want to know you, so a welcoming voice immediately threw me. I took a seat, and was soon joined by 3 other "clients", all looking petrified and bouncing legs up and down with anxiety and giving out the occasional nervous laugh. Was this me? Are they seeing me the same way. A man so obsessed by his phone he may as well leave it out of his damn pocket.
After a quick ironic blast of black hole son by soungarden, and cryin' by aerosmith, on the radio, I was called in.
Tamara, my therapist was lovely, but holds no prisoners. The introduction to CBT meant me answering hypothetical questions. Staring in to space apparently isn't the answer to talking therapy, but you know what? It got me talking.
Through talking, I discovered the reason I feel better is through the increased support from friends and colleagues and of course mystic Mrs, my wife who knows which way I'm heading way before I do.
We've already identified I will always prefer to deal with problems by myself, and take on more and more until, like the Saturday boy in Harvester, things just crash around me.
It's only the first session, but really I just wanted to thank you all for your support, or indifference towards my illnes, it's clearly helped me move on, and that's a professional opinion.
However, next week we're tackling my lack of confidence and self esteem. Now then, where can I hide.
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