With Mental Health Awareness Day just around the corner (10th
October) I thought now the appropriate time to write about what some may
consider a taboo subject – counselling.
I completely understand the awkwardness surrounding the
topic. Counselling is an extremely intimate, personal experience that not many
people would be happy to openly discuss, especially on the internet. I,
however, am not afraid to delve deep into the mystery and stigma associated
with an unquestionably beneficial service.
In an attempt to loosen the grip on those ropes of tension
by which counselling is grasped by you lot, I wish to speak to you about my own
bout of therapy. As many of you may already know, and as I have already shared
with you in previous posts, I have experienced my fair share of trauma these
past few years. Although I am proud to say I faced a large amount on my own and
pushed through, I would’ve fallen more than a few feet short had I not made the
decision to speak to the school counsellor. I will never forget that day
because it was the best decision I’ve ever made. I was the definition of an
absolute wreck and I felt less than worthless. Going into her pokey room that
afternoon with nowhere to hide, I firmly believed no amount of professional
help could save me – I was already dead inside.
I spent over nine months battling through each little war I faced
into. During that time I was asked to leave the school, which I undoubtedly
refused to do. I was appalled that an institution who supposedly had a care
team watching my every move could even suggest I run away from my problems. As part
of an “agreement” which would allow me to remain a student in the school, I was
obliged to attend counselling with an alternative counsellor outside the school
walls.
By the end of the nine gruesome months I had attended
sessions with three different counsellors, only one of which I actually
benefitted from. Despite my unsuccessful encounters with the other two, I would
not be here writing this today were it not for that one counsellor that stood
by me through my darkest hours. You won’t be surprised to hear that the one
counsellor I hold all the gratitude towards is the first one. The counsellor I chose
to speak to without any outside influence.
From my own experience I can tell you first-hand that
counselling really did save me. I had other outlets I relied on too, obviously,
such as writing, music and speaking to friends, but nothing helped me more than
the realisation that I needed professional interference. Counselling is useless
and a complete waste of time if you don’t believe you need to be there. Anyone can
be pushed into an hour a week of some stranger reminding you in polite terms
how fucked up you are. The only time that is beneficial is when you agree with
them from the bottom of your heart and you’re not kidding yourself. For one
particular counselling service I was placed on a six week waiting list, just
for one session. If you’re not committed to the help you’re receiving don’t waste
your time, or theirs. There are plenty of people out there dying (quite
literally) for the opportunity you are being granted and ironically taking for
granted.
What I’m trying to say is that when you open up to the idea
of counselling, the rewards at the end of your final session are priceless. One
thing I learned from my time there was communication. I always struggled to
express my feelings in the correct manner, leading to a massive build-up of
frustration within me. Even a few weeks into the sessions and I could feel an
improvement – both mentally and emotionally. I felt the knots inside of me
begin to untangle themselves. Another lesson I learnt was how to trust in
someone. I don’t mean the ‘I trust you with my secret’ kind of trust; I mean
the ‘I trust you will save my life’ kind. I finally found someone I knew would
remain loyal to me no matter what I told them, no matter how I spoke to them,
and no matter how awfully I treated them on occasion. I realised that regardless
of how problematic I was, this person would never stop believing in me. In my
case, this person was a female. But having worked with both male and female
counsellors I believe it’s simply down to whoever you connect with first. For me,
it was a woman named Grace. A complete stranger when I initially spoke to her
who became my saviour overnight.
If it was up to me, every faculty of education would provide
a counselling service for students all year round. You can’t predict when
someone will need help. Feelings aren’t timetabled; you can’t expect someone to
avail of the services simply because they are only on offer this week and it’s
either now or pay for it privately outside of school. Counsellors should be
employed in every school and by this I am not referring to career guidance
teachers who claim to be a “guidance counsellor” on the side. No, I mean an
official counsellor whose only concern is the mental wellbeing of the students
wearing that particular uniform. In my school we are currently being assigned
slots in which we must decide our careers with the guidance counsellor. These slots
are fifteen minutes long. If my school can only afford to designate fifteen
minutes per student for the entirety of the school year to career advice, how can anyone expect
a student to approach this teacher to discuss personal issues which may take
longer than the assigned time to resolve?
One day when all schools have a full-time counsellor in
place, I hope students are less afraid to speak out than we all seem to be
right now. It’s great to see the progress being made in promoting suicide
awareness, but could we not take it a step further and do something which could
possibly prevent it from happening in the first place? Maybe if counselling wasn’t
seen as such a shameful service more people would be brave enough to make that
one decision that could save their life. Young people in particular need to
stop being so scared of asking for help. I’m not alone in saying that you will
not regret it. I think one of the best feelings of my whole experience was knowing
that if I ever did relapse, I had a safety net there to pick me up again.
If there is anyone reading this and considering getting
professional help, I would encourage you that the sooner you speak up, the
better. It can be a long road to recovery but the journey you are taken on is
so worthwhile. I learnt more about myself in those nine months than I ever
could have in my seventeen years. I can promise that you will too. The only
regret you’ll have is that it took a seventeen year old ex-counselee to
persuade you to seek the happiness everyone in this world deserves, including
you.
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