My Experience With ‘Counselling’

Throughout my teens and whatever the hell years are I’m currently experiencing, I have struggled. A lot.

I lost friends I thought would be bridesmaids at my wedding, I gained friends from strangers and all in all, life was a bit of a shit show for quite a long time.

Whilst dealing with the downward spiral of my subconscious, I had multiple options. I was already on medications, which worked, just. I wanted more. I needed more. So to counselling we went. As beautiful and as wonderful as the NHS is, the long waiting list was too long. I was told it would be 6 months to a year. With my current state, I wouldn’t have lasted that long. So I went private.

So here we are. More options.

Talk therapy? Let’s start there. Two years. It worked? Yes. But only took the edge off. I felt amazing when I was there but as soon as I got home. Nada. Nope. Very hard. I adored my therapist. She was amazing and soft but stern when I was worming back inside myself. She saved me at one of the most vulnerable times in my life. But just talking wasn’t going to cut it anymore. So? Where next?

Here we are now. CBT. Let’s give this a go. The stuff of miracles. Does it work for everyone? No. Tried EMDR. Didn’t work. Trigger city. No thanks. But CBT, holy Hell, thank yoooooooou. My current therapist? Handcrafted by the God’s themselves. She has been the shining light in the absolute crack den that was Leicester. She has pulled me out of some of the worst times in my life and given me a (metaphorical) slap around the face when I needed to get my shit together.

CBT is hard. It can be brutal, it can seem unfair and like it won’t get better. But the main difference I noticed was that the little voices, the little quips, they just stopped. The things that would drive me over the edge? Nothing. The relief is indescribable. The power of mindfulness and a little bit of guidance has changed my life in more ways than I can describe.

I can now go on public transport on my own. I can drive independently. I can answer the phone. I can maintain eye contact. I have 3 very successful jobs. I can argue my case. I can leave when I want to. I can ask questions. I can fight.

I am no longer the doormat. I am no longer the person that will stand in the corner and smile. I’m not the butt of any jokes. I am strong and I am happy and I am me. And it’s bloody brilliant.


By Lucy Heather


My name is Lucy and welcome to my blog!

I am a self-diagnosed fiction junkie and De Montfort University alumni who went from student paediatric nurse to aspiring author and poetess.

Come and listen to my ramblings about subjects that have ridden the rails of my brain for years, or simply skim over the thoughts that were hitchhiking for a stop or two. 

If you want to know where to find me, catch up with me on my latest blog posts or my social media; Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat or Pinterest.

Thanks for dropping by!

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