Surprise!

I generally don’t enjoy my birthday, and I expected that when I turned 30 there would be dark skies, plagues of locusts and electrical blackouts.  But the sun shone and I had a very happy day.

This weekend past my parents came up for a surprise visit; they’d just come back from two weeks in Canada visiting my brother so were probably really jetlagged.  My dad had driven them all over Ontario, but still drove the 450 mile round trip to see me, for one day.  It was really lovely.  We had a fabulous Sunday Lunch and then I fed them my home-made brownies at my flat before they had to go back down south.

On Monday, my actual birthday, I woke up a bit grumpy and morose.  P cheered me up though.  He made me leave the house, and we went for a day out in Glasgow, went to one of my favourite Japanese restaurants for lunch, did a little bit of shopping but generally just mooched around in the sunshine.

In the evening I had a lovely dinner with work friends, got an unexpected but fantastic little present from E (some old Cole Porter sheet music).  I was really surprised: I loved my birthday, for the first time in years.  My prophecies of doom and misery where wholly inaccurate.

Turning 30 is brilliant.  I highly recommend it.

Hmmmmm ahhhhhh

If you have seen Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire you will know the sound of the Beauxbatons girls:  an airy, wispy, high-pitched sustained sigh.  It suits them well when they’re dancing down the great hall, but wouldn’t be welcome in repeated application.  In fact it would get rather irritating.  Which is why I had to bite my tongue when I went to see new Head Doctor.

I met with Head Doctor with an odd mixture of apprehension and hope:  as much as I didn’t love the prospect of building a new relationship, I did look forward to feeling the comfort I used to get.  Except, it didn’t quite go like that.

Firstly, Head Doctor is about 12.  OK maybe not 12, but I get the distinct impression that she’s a psychology graduate who has done a course in counselling.  (In comparison, my last Head Doctor worked as a mental health nurse, then did a bachelors degree in counselling and a masters degree in psycho-dynamic therapy).  I’m not saying that it means she’s a bad counsellor, it’s just, I think she was out of her depth with me.

I gave her a brief background and said to her

I need some help getting through this rocky patch, so I can find some stability.

She went silent for about 90 seconds (I counted) and then sighed.  Hmmmmm, ahhhhh.  Just like she was from Beauxbatons.  She didn’t say anything.  The silence got to me:

I feel like I should say something.  I’m not used to it being quiet.  Should I say something?

Hmmmmm, ahhhhh.  You can say something if you want to.

Great, thanks, that helps.  More silence.

Hmmmmm, ahhhhh.  So what did you say you want to get out of counselling?

I was a bit confused.  Did I not just tell her the answer to that, and she said nothing in response?

The session was a lot of Hmmmmm Ahhhhhh from her, and a lot of silence from me.  Eventually I said I really just wanted a referral to the CBT therapist – which is my ultimate goal, but right now I’m a bit too frazzled to take on that challenge.  I wanted to stabilise my poor brain before I embark on a mission to address my behaviour.  That was why I wanted to have some more counselling.

New Head Doctor said to think about what I wanted (again! I already told her!) and come back next week.  I called my old Head Doctor and arranged an appointment with her instead.  Sometimes I just need to talk to someone who understands me.

I found the session frustrating, disheartening and quite depressing.  Rather disappointing really.