Today I am going to Lauren's house and we are going to do stuff. I assume Sophie is coming too, and that she will join in in the stuff doing. I also think think think that I shall play with Lauren's god, Nala, because I love her. I was referring to Lauren's dog, but I think it goes without saying that I love Lauren too.
But, let's get back on track. Since I haven't been blogging, I've been saving certain things that I want to share with the inter-webs, one of them being that I went to therapy. Yes, therapy.
I've noticed how I get severely depressed and lonely at random times for random reasons for some time. For some time I've also requested from my mother a therapist so I can talk about these moments of tremendous angst to see a) why I have them, and b) what can I do to distract myself from them, or something. Upon announcing to me that we were going on holiday, the date stated was the 13th of August, the day before the Sons of Admiral gig in London, in which John Green would also make an appearance to sign books and such things. I, looking forward to this day for weeks, was crushed to discover I could not go. I threw a tantrum. I screamed bloody murder at my parents, swore, got sent to my room where I promptly resumed my ritual of closing the door behind me and sliding down the wood, where I cried. A lot.
Later that night I vented to my mum about all the troubles and stress I felt I was going under. I genuinely felt that I was suffocating under all this teenage hormones, and I couldn't stop crying. Then my mother started crying, making me cry harder and she told me she was sorry she caused all this disappointment, and that she would try to find a therapist for me soon.
I did go. I went on a Saturday, and it helped. I feel better. I've got another session on the day before my holiday, so you can imagine I'll have a lot to be sad about! No, srsly, I don't know what I'm going to say because I already feel so much better.
My therapist is called Christian, and he's a man in his late thirties, I'd say. He wears sandals and his office had a very zen feel about it. The receptionist wore no shoes. I waited for a little bit before Christian called me up the stairs and then sat me down. I fiddled with my shorts and didn't know where to look. He looked up from his paper pad after asking my name, age, etc, and asked me, "How can I help?"
I was taken aback. How could he help? What did I need? I didn't know. I was here because he was supposed to know. But I told him, I sometimes feel lonely and sad, for no reason. And then I feel fine, but most of the time I can't wait to get home from school and I'll always tired and I am just sick of everthing.
And then he asked something even more patronising; he said, "Why do you feel lonely?" And I think that was around the point where I started crying and said, "I don't know,". I don't know. I just, I wish I was like every other teenager out there and didn't need therapy. I wish I could open up completely to my close friends, but I can't. I'm a closed person who can't get close with other people easily. I'm scared to get amnesia and forget everything because I've worked so hard to have the friends I have; I've pushed my shyness, and it's not something does with facility.
But we talked about the future, and how I worry and things. It was refreshing and got a lot of things off my chest. He gave me a tiny pill that I think has worked, but tasted like sugar, so I have my doubts, tbh.
Maybe I never needed therapy? Maybe I just needed to open up that one time and I would've felt better? I've down exercise since then, and I've gone out every day since, really, even if it's like, to go to the library. I dunno; I'm glad I went, but at the same time, I wonder if I was just exaggerating my sadness.
I need to leave soon,
Always yours,
Mel.
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