First day of CBT

“So, how does it feel during those low times?”

I had been rolling a piece of tissue between my fingers, sitting on the edge of my seat, leaning towards to the door, and facing away from him. This was very different from the quiet counselling I had two years ago. I could tell he was new but not new. New to CBT. Not new to caring. Caring, confidently.

I respected that. So, in that moment, I decided to be honest. I decided to look him in the eye as the first tears left mine, my voice just as firm as his:

“I would never, ever consider harming myself or others…”

I pause as my courage falters. Why am I sharing this? Why does it possibly matter?

“But I feel so detached. So apart from everything.”

The tissue was breaking apart in my hand.

“I deal a lot with death in my work. I’m unafraid even at the best of times. But at the worst, I feel jealous. When will it be my turn? When will it finally be over?”

The tissue falls to the floor in pieces, and I find myself sitting again on the edge of my seat, leaning towards the door, and facing away from him.

“I want to die.”

My eyes were cloudy, and I was falling into memories and shame. Without missing a beat, he asked, “So what did you think then?”

The river of self-doubt choked, like water rushing through a funnel, as I cast about my memories fishing for the Reason that I am still here. My voice cracked. My hands unclenched. But I still didn’t look at him. I knew immediately when I found it, waiting there at the depth of every murky bit inside:

“Tomorrow will be different.”


Read on the NHS Choices blog.