Well I told you yesterday that this post would be late becuse it is about my latest therapy session. So, I guess you're not too surprised it's late. Unless you missed yesterday's post that is I guess.
My session was slightly hampered by the fact I still have a cold but thankfully it's not too bad. I'm able to think and move properly now I'm just not able to really talk properly. I am however going to have to sit in the library for two hours while I wait for a pick up because I couldn't muster the strength to walk home. Well anyway, back to the session. It went pretty well considering my plague. She had me fill out a little questionnaire that informed her I don't have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from what happened ten years ago, and I'm not too surprised. It was ten years ago and I didn't really react much then. I don't talk about it, but I don't really have flashbacks or nightmares or anything.
We actually really didn't talk about much new, she said that even though I had found myself crying uncontrollably three times this past week she felt that they were ordinary responses because of what I was crying about. Mostly that stress got to me, and I was dealing with it normally and it's nothing to be worried about.
She did inform me of something I found quite surprising though. This was session number ten, and that means it was the last session. Sort of anyway, as we have one more next week to sort of tie everything together and see what needs to be done now. If I feel I need more therapy, then more can be arranged. To be honest I'm pretty anxious about that, and I told her as such. What with the cold I couldn't really tell her everything as to why but the basics are that even though I have much less social anxiety, and I have come a long way in that department, I'm still depressed and lately I seem more unstable than ever. I still have problems and issues I need to work through, but I think counselling might be a better fit for those.
Still I do know I have made progress though and I am becoming a better person. I mean, in just a few weeks I'll almost definitely be releasing a book which means I'll be free from a lot of the stresses in my life and I'll have achieved something she feels is a pretty big deal (although personally I am of course downplaying everything) and I'm actually feeling hope about the whole situation. I haven't genuinely felt hope since I wrote the stories in the first place, and then had it all crushed. Part of me thinks that if I do a good enough job with the Caspian stories then actually I could have a whole series of adventure novels. I could have my own Harry Potter or Artemis Fowl.
Although, of course, I don't dream of reaching such heights. Just having enough to live on would be more than enough.
I really don't need to make much from the stories, because as soon as I make any money at all from them I'll be free from the clutches of the loathed job centre and technically I'll be unable to sign on again until I stop selling and recieving money from it.
It actually feels kind of weird to feel hope, and know that it's genuine. By working hard, as I have, I am escaping my own personal Hell.
Now, I just need to stay out of it.
Oooooh, that's good. I should put it in a story somewhere.