I think I mentioned previously on this blog that I went to see a grief counsellor about 3 or 4 months after Liane’s death. It didn’t work out. In hindsight, I hadn’t processed half enough of what I was feeling at the time. I was doing it to tick a box on the road to trying to make sense of it all and in my newfound battle against grief. I left her room having got very little out of the experience but determined to find someone else at some stage down the line.
I have recently found that professional to talk to and it is equal parts upsetting, relieving, fascinating and needed. I come out of a session feeling lighter. I feel like our conversations are unpredictable and fluid. I feel like I’ve bonded with the counsellor and that we have a lot of work to do together in the future. Maybe most importantly I feel like she is somebody who knows about these types of journeys and can be a knowledgable and welcome crutch for me.
Therapy is new to me. I’m lucky that way. I am grateful I have found a therapist I trust and feel comfortable with - I know many aren’t as lucky. What I didn’t expect from it is how much it can give me, how much I can get from it. I really hope it stays this way.