Going Back to Go Forward (10)

Two weeks of therapy have passed since my last confession. I'm progressing too fast now to write each revelation and heartache. I try to be honest and write my experience of therapy, rather than just my interpretation, but my experiences of therapy lately have been wounding. And my defences have so far prevented me from writing it down. It's too dangerous. I'm too afraid.

I ache, thinking of death most days, even when cradled in my husband's arms. Even when smiling, laughing, with a colleague.

I know therapy is meant to be hard. And I am making a lot of progress. But at what cost? I don't feel safe in there. I don't trust her. She's my shattered, frosty, bleeding mirror. And thanks to her, I no longer trust myself.

I deserve better.

Read on the NHS Choices blog.