I realised about six months into the M.E. diagnosis that I needed to talk about all that was happening to me and how I was feeling. This was quite a leap before its time really. Counselling was something that was normally hidden behind closed doors; would people think the family was failing in some way?
For me, I knew this was not the case. I recognised that I could not off-load to my mum because she was suffering in her own way. She was watching her 20-year-old daughter in an extremely debilitating state. I can’t quite remember how I came to seek a counsellor. I don’t recall where I found the information or who told me about it? I think it may have been the yellow pages! I was really lucky to find COMPASS in Liverpool, a charitable trust that offers support and guidance by way of donation only and here I met Pam (*not her real name). I didn’t tell anyone else in my family that I was going as I was embarrassed and I thought it would confirm to everyone that I was ‘not with it’. Not what I needed.
Entry was by a discrete red door – almost like visiting a secret society. A plain plaque outside to confirm you were at the right place. Its funny how times have changed and counsellors advertise everywhere and are so much more open and accessible.
Every week mum would drop me off as I was too unwell to drive and I would sit there for 55 minutes, talking about how it felt to be at this young age of 20 and ill with M.E.
Ill with M.E; it sounds so strange when I write it now 22 years on. Those first few sessions really helped me enormously. Here was a place I could cry and be angry about my situation with someone independent who was not judging me, my family or even the illness itself. I realised I felt so alone and so very sad. I just didn’t know what was happening to me. It felt so odd, like I was observing myself being the ‘ill person’. Those sessions used to tire me out and often I’d come home and go straight to sleep. Mum would always be waiting for me outside, religiously, always there, watching my expression as I got in the car, not wanting to pry or be nosey. She just asked ‘was that helpful?” “Yes it was” I replied quietly.
The sessions were a real blessing. Here I could talk openly and express myself. I was feeling so left out of the world. Friends were travelling during their university holidays. I’d hear stories of Inter-railing through Europe, trips to Australia, Camp America or staying on a kibbutz in Israel. Other friends were getting engaged, finding wonderful new jobs - Living - basically. I wasn’t living, I didn’t feel I was living at the time, I felt I was coping with living. It did take a while to open up to Pam. She always had a box of tissues at the ready – sometimes I used them, other times I didn’t need to. I went to Compass for 6 months and eventually felt that I could leave knowing that my inner reserves were still in tact and at any time I could return.
My first experience of counselling gave me an insight into the profession. Over the years, I would tap into more talking therapies with various counsellors and this really related to the different challenges I was facing. I felt that talking was a great way to support me with all the thoughts flying round my mind. The main one being ‘was I going to be ill for a long time?” I realised from all the reflecting, that I wasn’t going to let this thought dominate my mind. I wanted to get better, to find out what was going on with me. I wanted to remain positive. I didn’t want this to define me. I was fighting the label. Nobody really knew about ME, it was still a bit of a mystery and a great media opportunity to label it; they did, with ‘yuppie flu.’
Counselling was such a valuable tool, helping me overcome my headspace whilst suffering. It’s something I would always recommend to anyone struggling with long term ill health, taking a step away from talking to family or your main carer and with someone very separate. Little did I know then how it would have an impact on my later life and I would train in this field so that I too, could offer such support.
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