Analyze This

I’ve been thinking about the whole therapy thing

I remember when I started. It really felt like the right thing to do. Something I needed in my life and at the start, the whole talking thing was something I found really valuable. Especially as it isn’t something I do easily. People think I talk a lot and don’t get me wrong, I do. In fact, I can talk and talk and talk …..but it's never about anything of worth, nothing consequential. It's all just amusing anecdotes, or where I have been or what I've been doing. All in a bid to entertain others and make them want to be around me but nothing that gives anything real away.

In the end, during those sessions, I talked around problems and OK, maybe a better therapist would have guided me more carefully into the troubled areas, but actually just talking, filled a void for that time in my life.

Now I’ve come to the conclusion that even with the best counsellor in the world, therapy really isn’t for me.

We all suffer from feelings of inadequacy no matter how shiny and bright we appear on the outside. I know that lots of friends my age are anxious and stressed about a whole load of things ranging from balancing home and work life through fretting about how they look and what shape they are, all the way to pure despair at how fast life seems to be passing them by and the mistakes that leads them to make.

All those things have bothered me at some point, and I definitely keep making stupid mistakes, but those same problems haven’t been made better by talking them through with the therapist. That may have offered temporary relief but no solution. Effectively, it was like constantly picking at a scab and so not allowing it to heal. I found I was analysing and thinking about my life in a rather pointless manner. Who am I? What do I want? I don’t bloody know - what do any of us want? To be happy I guess, it’s not rocket science. If anything is truly depressing it’s that I have probably lived over half my life now and I still don’t have any real answers to anything of worth.

If I’ve realised anything over the last few weeks, it’s that actually, do you know what, it’s OK to be angry with myself and with others. It’s OK not to feel particularly worthy or to feel vulnerable or to mess up from time to tome. But it’s not OK to dwell on any of it. I need to feel the emotion, live through it and then put it away but not allow it to dictate or colour what I do from then on.

There are other things too that I know I need to do. Such as learning to minimise the negatives in my life, because focusing on things that annoy me definitely tends to make me miserable and dissatisfied

All this seems to be what normal people do. DON’T analyse who you are and what you do or why you do it. Just forgive yourself and have the courage to like who you are.

That’s what matters at the end of the day. It’s not whether others like me, but that I do.

It may not sound much but that is a huge revelation to me and one that I may have to keep discovering before it finally makes an impact

Waking Up To Spring

It’s a long time since I’ve written anything here.

I guess it’s because I haven’t had any real enthusiasm for anything and I’ve just been going through the motions. I haven’t been in a depressed state - I just haven’t been able to do more than I’ve needed to on any given day.

But I feel better now.

Maybe it’s because the sun is out and our garden is full of flowers but suddenly, I feel more like my old self and ready to be me again, if that makes sense. I want to put some serious work into getting over these negative feelings that constantly seem to bring me down.

That won’t be with the therapist though.

Last month, I told him that I wanted to end our sessions. He just nodded and asked me why. I said I didn’t think that actually I was getting anything out of it anymore and that I was going to focus more on anger management. He informed me that he could help with that, which was a bit awkward, but I insisted that I thought it would be best to start with someone new. I found it difficult to say, not helped by how he looked at me in that way he has, with his head on one side. He pointed out that we had rarely touched on my angry episodes and I said that was because I didn’t find them easy to talk about and that I was ashamed of my behaviour. He said that he thought after all this time I would have understood that the whole point of these sessions was to try and talk through the more unpleasant things. I agreed but said it wasn’t something I had been able to master.

He was silent for a while and then, out of the blue, he said “Do you think I like you?” I was a bit shocked and didn’t know what to say and so he repeated the question. When I said yes I thought he did, he asked why that was so important to me. I said that what people thought of me has always been important to me and the key to how I feel about myself and he mysteriously said “that’s the knub of it Selina - that’s what you need to work on”.

I should have got into the conversation but quite frankly I didn’t have the energy.

Anyway, he wouldn’t let me finish things at that session and said I should think it all over and give him my decision at our next meeting. However, I went home feeling very dissatisfied at that and a few days later I sent an email thanking him but saying that I wouldn’t be going back. He replied with just two lines “Thank you for letting me know. I wish you the very best for the future”

Now, I feel like I’m free again. I don’t know of what. To make a fresh start maybe, I’m not sure. But I do feel positive and that can only be a good thing.

Can’t it??

Trying To Move On

Thank you so much for your supportive comments on my last post.

I was convinced that you would all be appalled and disgusted and maybe some readers were, but the messages suggested an element of understanding that touched me deeply, even though I acknowledge wholeheartedly that my behaviour was wrong.

I took the advice offered and wrote him a letter. I haven’t shown it to him but I did tell him about it and some of what it said. Maybe one day I’ll publish it here but it doesn’t really make any sense. It rambles on and on, part justifying part apologising but whatever, it DID make a difference writing it down – all four pages !

I’ve spent a lot of time talking with him since then and we’ve all been out as a family as well and it does help.

Trouble is, I can’t get over the fact that there is something fundamentally wrong with me.

I only see the therapist once every other week now and the week of the turmoil wasn’t the scheduled time. I called him to ask if he could fit me in. He said no but that he would give me extra time this week. As I put the phone down, I realised that actually there was no real point seeing him. I’d have told him what happened and he’d ask me what I thought the trigger was and we’d go round things like we have for the last few years. It’s not his fault - it’s just that I have become very practised at just talking but somehow avoiding the key issues.

We’ve only touched briefly on my hideous temper. I painted it as me being the unreasonable one who completely loses control while Ewan refuses to engage until I calm down, which makes me more angry. He asked me if I thought that actually that made Ewan the unreasonable one and to be honest, I don’t really remember the outcome. That’s the problem. I don’t remember much about the outcome of any the things we’ve discussed. I’ll tell him all this on Thursday but if nothing else I think I’ve come to the conclusion that the therapist, or at least this therapist, isn’t for me.

I wanted it to work. I tried to persuade myself that it was working, but it clearly isn’t.

Meanwhile, I’ve been going back over my blog and I saw this entry that I posted back in the beginning, two and a half years ago.

I think it’s clear evidence that I haven’t really moved on at all ……

Sasha and Kyle - The Children
I've already said I'm incredibly proud of them but I wonder.... I really wonder if I have been a good enough mother to them.

I am incredibly strict and expect them to behave in a certain way which they have done. Maybe I have inhibited them as a result. They seem fairly normal but who knows what they really go through.

Sometimes Sasha's eyes look very puffy and I don't know anything about why and I can tell she's not inclined to share the burdens in her life but we have the same sense of humour and many times when we talk we end up laughing and laughing until we cry. She is so sensible and I hope we end up as good friends as she is so wise and it will be her telling me what to do for the best very soon.

As for my son, I love him so much. He will always be my child though. I can't imagine him advising me on anything although he is incredibly intelligent and so I guess he will but I can't see a day when I won't be looking out for him.

How did I create such gorgeous children and why do I hold back from loving them completely? That is what makes me abnormal. That makes me a freak. A mother is supposed to love her children totally, beyond life itself. And yet, I don't know if I do. I can't imagine a world without them and I have such strong emotions for them but I think something isn't there.

I shout a lot at them - sometimes it's for no real reason. I think I yell because deep down, my life feels like it's in a mess and I have no control.

I hate myself I think - that's the real problem. If that's the case, how can I love anyone else...or expect them to love me

Speeding Downhill

So my daughter seems very bright and breezy and convinced that everything will be OK. She’s been trying to joke with me that we’ll have a period party when the time comes but I’m not really amused. In fact, I’m seriously anxious. I’ve lost weight again as I just feel constantly sick.

Things haven’t been helped by the fact that my son, who up to now has been everything a mother could wish for, seems to be going off the rails.

He has been earmarked as a potential Oxbridge student and until recently he was doing really well. But all of a sudden he seems embarrassed by his success and has been going all out to impress his friends in other ways.

At the birthday/aftershow party we had a few weeks back, he brought some of his friends along. Not the usual boys he hangs out with who are very nice but some other lads who were very cocky and who thought it was funny to get drunk quite quickly, with no care that they were guests at my party and not at some pathetic teenage rave.

One of them even thought he could light up in my kitchen and I told him firmly that he had to go outside to smoke. Unfortunately, I noticed he took Kyle with him and I found out later that my precious son has been smoking for a while now.

That upset me.

My dad smoked heavily when he was younger and although he stopped eventually, I’m sure it contributed to the heart attack that killed him. I feel very ashamed that my son could be so stupid as to start such a pointless habit.

I told him the next day in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t happy and he promised me that he would stop. He said he didn’t know why he started and that he would put an end to it. Since then, I have noticed he smells of smoke when he comes in from school but he keeps saying that it’s because others smoke around him. I hate the lying and I told him I didn’t appreciate it, but he promised me that he wasn’t smoking anymore.

And then yesterday, I came back early from work as I had a headache and I thought I would stop by his school to see if he wanted a lift and there he was. Standing outside, with a group of scruffy little bastards, holding court, laughing and ….smoking.

I drove home alone and very, very angry.

When he got in, I said I could smell smoke and he just laughed and said very easily “for god’s sake mum, you always say that but I swear, I haven’t been smoking”

And then the red mist came down and I went into a rage.

I told him I saw him smoking with his nasty little friends and he said I was mistaken and I was so furious then, that I hit him. Hard. Round the head. And then I pulled his hair and yanked his head towards me and smelled his breath, and then hit him again.

I don’t know what happened after that but Ewan came down the stairs and shouted at me to calm down and I started shouting at him too. And, oh god, the whole evening descended into hours of real and bitter fury as I spewed out all the bile that seems to have been hidden so deep within me.

I hate myself so much

Today all I can think of is Kyle’s face when I went for him. Why did I do that ? I never hit them when they were growing up. I’m not part of the anti-smacking brigade but I just never thought it was the right way for me to parent as I was raised on regular, hard beatings from my mother and it never solved anything. Why did I hit him? Why did I get so angry?

I’ve realised today that however much I thought the therapist has helped me all this time, he hasn’t really. All these negative emotions are still there within me and they’ve never been resolved.

I feel so worthless, so drained. I don't want to get out of bed. If I could stay here forever I would.

I feel like I’m on the edge of something huge. That if I wanted to, I could let just go of what little control I might be holding on to and fall into a complete mental breakdown. Even as I’m writing I’m not sure that won’t happen. Maybe I should just walk into my local hospital and ask them to section me.

Before leaving for school just now Kyle came in and left a letter on my bedside table, apologising for lying and for making me so angry and pledging never to smoke again and promising to focus on his studies once more.

Trouble is, I don’t feel very forgiving even though I should be the one saying sorry. Instead I’m still angry – at Kyle, at Sasha, at Ewan, at my mother …….but most of all, at me

The therapist told me right at the start of my treatment that I had to learn to like myself. I thought I had but in truth, I don’t think I ever will

I despise me

Highs And Lows

Isn’t it funny how you can feel so proud one moment and then desperately disappointed the next ?

My daughter is my pride and joy.

She is very like me in that she uses her charm and wit to get by rather than any great intellect. She’s very easy to get along with and is popular amongst her friends. She likes to party and she is fun to be with but unlike me, she is NOT a flirt.

I marvel at how she just converses with the opposite sex without all the flicking of hair and ridiculous pouting that I habitually resort to, even at this stage of my life. She doesn’t need the approval or admiration of men to validate her existence.

Over the years, she has mocked me when I have warned her not to let men have any power over her and to always stay in control . She calls me a man-hater and laughs when tell her I don’t want to see her hurt or heartbroken

She never really had a serious boyfriend. She was sort of seeing the vicar’s son – a painfully shy boy called Huw. He brought out the worst in me as I would often burst in on them in the sitting room and watch him spring away from her as he then went beetroot red. I couldn’t help it – it amused me greatly! Almost as much as walking round the house singing “the only one who could ever move me, was the son of a preacher man” at the top of my voice. She told me I was cruel …..but very funny, and that she knew full well I was just trying to stop her getting too involved.

Since September though, she has been seeing Freddie. He was in the year above her at school and now he’s in his second year at university in London – studying maths. They were always great friends and then it suddenly became something more.

And this time it’s different.

They have become very close, very quickly. He is lovely – everything you could wish for in a boyfriend for your precious daughter. He’s tall, good-looking, kind, clever, affectionate, supportive, caring and he’s always very polite to us. To be honest, I’m a bit in awe of him and I don’t want to ruin what could be something very special and important in her life …..but I do worry for her.

She told me once they started sleeping together, which was only three months into their relationship. I’m pleased she felt close enough to let me know but it did upset me and I was very emotional at the time. I would have hoped that she could have waited longer, though she said that they didn’t need to as they already knew each other so well as friends. She insists he didn’t push her into anything she didn’t want to do.

I know I have no right to be so disapproving, especially given my own past. And I am genuinely pleased that she feels she can talk to me about it, but deep down I don’t really want to know. I almost feel I have let her down by being so accepting about it. Perhaps I should have shouted at her for letting him have his way so quickly but then she does seem to be genuinely fond of him and so perhaps it was a natural step in their relationship.

The thing is, yesterday she came into my room and lay on my bed and said she was having a crisis. She told me that the previous night when she stayed over with him, the condom they were using split……and that she had just taken the morning after pill.

This is my daughter. The baby I held in my arms. My beautiful toddler with the mass of curls. The talented girl who brought the house down just a couple of weeks ago with her own show. Telling me, almost casually, that she had just taken the morning after pill

I tried to stay calm telling her that pill is not just another method of contraception and that she had to be careful and not take risks with her future in such a way and she just kissed me and told me to be calm and that everything would be alright.

I have gone from an amazing high to an incredible low in what seems the shortest space of time and now, I cant stop crying.

Best Ever Present

It was my birthday last week.

When I was young, I used to love it. The cards, the presents, the attention …..

Nowadays, not so much !! Birthdays represent another year gone. Another year possibly wasted. Further proof that I am no longer young. Increased pressure to admit that I am NOT actually forty. In fact, I’m nearer ff..fi..fif...fifty ! No ! Birthdays now, mean increased angst and mental torture …..

However, this year, I was positively counting the days to my special day because it was also the premiere of my daughter’s musical.

It had been on the calendar for a couple of months and so I thought it was the ideal opportunity for a party afterwards as an added incentive to get friends and family to turn up and support her. As it was, I needn’t have worried, as all three shows were a sell-out with people queuing outside for tickets and some even turned away.

And the show was amazing!

Eleven songs, all written in the last few months, one even in the fortnight running up to the show when she realised the second act just needed something. I can’t begin to tell you how much she has impressed me. The whole thing was fabulous.

During one number, I found myself crying - not just because the song was very moving but because I couldn’t stop thinking that my daughter, my little girl, had written it. Written the whole show. It was her vision on that stage. And she’s only 18!

And the kids were brilliant. They performed it so well - sang so beautifully and spoke so clearly. They did her proud.

And any thoughts I may have had that perhaps I only thought it was good because my daughter wrote it were completely blown away when the audience erupted into cheers and wild applause at the end. They were standing and clapping for the final encore and then there were sustained shouts for “author, author”.

She didn’t come forward at first and then, her beautiful blushing face peeped through the curtains to further cheers until she was pushed out on stage. At that point, I thought I would actually burst with pride.

And then, she started speaking. She thanked the cast, musicians and crew for a wonderful performance. She thanked the audience for a fantastic reception that she could never have dreamed of. She talked of how she had been sick with nerves before the show, even though she is so used to singing and performing. That this time, she felt she had put herself out there in a way she never had before. And then, in what seemed like pin-drop silence, she thanked ……me. She told the audience that I had encouraged her love of music since was a little girl, and that she loved me, and hoped that she had made me proud, because she wanted to dedicate her musical to me as my birthday present.

And suddenly, everyone was cheering and whooping again and I was part blubbing into Ewan’s shoulder and part laughing and blowing her kisses. And all the time, she looked just like an angel on that stage. MY darling, precious angel.

We partied long and hard afterwards and even though I can’t remember how it all ended, I know that it’s up there as one of the best birthdays EVER !!

A Good Job, Well Done

I am basking in the glow of a fabulous wedding !

Amanda and Hugh got married yesterday and it was a fantastic day. She looked stunning in her red and white dress.

But it also felt like my day as I had helped to plan the wedding and we were part of the beautiful service - Ewan read the classic Corinthians passage and Sasha and I had the privilege of singing during the signing of the register.

At the end of the evening, when we are all a bit drunk, Amanda gave me a big hug and told me that she never would have been able to do it without me and that I was the best friend anyone could ask for and before we knew it, we were both bawling and laughing in equal measure!

Knowing she had the wedding she had always dreamed of has made me so happy. I haven’t been able to drag myself out of bed today and my body is aching from too much dancing and carrying things up and down stairs but …I feel brilliant. The only thing is, I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself now.

Maybe I should start planning a wedding for my daughter………!