I went to counselling a few days ago for the first time in about 5 months. I'm not quite sure why I went back. I have been thinking about it for a number of weeks and I finally decided to get on with it and actually go. My counsellor had left the practice where she was before but I was able to go to her new place. I was not surprised when I rang up for an appointment and was told she had left. I had been half-expecting it, just because 10 years ago when I was in counselling and then had a six month break that counsellor left too. I never saw that counsellor again and when I think of her now I miss her. Anyway, this counsellor has a new practice which has evening appointments which is great because the reason I haven't been for months is that I got in trouble for missing too much work. In funny how after my counselling appointment I often want to discuss our conversation but the whole point of going to counselling is to talk to someone separate so then there is no-one to discuss the counselling itself with. That is why I am here. So, she said that previously I had sometimes said that life was not worth living. This is not right. She has inaccurately said this before and I couldn't be bothered to try to set her straight. I am fairly sure that I once said that life didn't seem to have a point. By this I meant a narrow meaning of the word "point" - simply that my life felt like it didn't have a specific goal or aim. But she took it to mean there's no point in living, meaning it's not worth living. Maybe I should have tried to clarify this with her. But maybe it doesn't matter. She said how amazingly strong and brave I had been during my cancer treatment. I don't why she even brought that up. What does it have to do with anything now? Also, I don't understand when she says I was strong and brave. That is just rubbish. Physically I was quite lucky with side effects and for some reason I had quite a positive attitude that things would work out. But I also went to into her office and regularly cried buckets of tears and was basically terrified out of my mind. She said she knows we had some bad times but I think when she says how strong I was it makes me feel like she is dismissing my terror. I was mainly quite calm and accepting of the treatment and I can understand most people who know me having the view that I was calm about it all, but she was the one who I told my terror to. I want her to share the memory of the terror. That's it. I didn't know what was bothering me about it until I typed that. I want her to share the memory of my terror. Instead of saying how brave I was, I want to her say remember how scared you were. My little cat got sick and had to be put down while I was in the middle of chemo. I still feel guilty that maybe if I had paid more attention to her instead of worrying about myself then we would have taken her to the vet sooner and maybe she wouldn't have died. I loved her very much. While I sat with her on my lap to say goodbye before the vet gave her the injection I cried and cried and cried. It felt like it was the end of the world. My mum was with me and later said that she had never seen someone cry so much. I like it that she shares that memory with me. I'm babbling on but typing helps me sort my thoughts out. Sometimes I think I should write a journal but handwriting is too boring and I'm not used it. Typing is good.
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