Who'd have thought.. Publishing my thoughts on the Internet for all to see. I always used to be a diary keeper, I would write in it nearly every day. But then one day my mum used something in it against me, meaning the sense of security those pages bring had been lost forever. Telling my therapist this today felt like nothing new, in my eyes the use of writing as an escape was lost forever. However Kara fired back "why not start a blog?" Immediately a hundred reasons appeared in my head, surely that's the opposite of privacy?! Everyone in the world having access to your thoughts... But then upon further consideration, who out there is really interested in the inner thoughts of an 18 year old girl?? Besides, maybe someone out there will read this and see that despite what we can make ourselves believe - you are never alone. It's never too late. It's taken me eight years to take my first step into recovering from a dehabilitating case of depression. And that first step forward was actually listening to what I know in my mind would help. Therapy. I first tried therapy at the tender age of 11, I had one session that my parents thought was a good idea to help me deal with their ongoing divorce, that hour was the best hour of my life, I had a voice. Something that quickly got taken away when my mother decided therapy was a waste of time, eight years on I found myself in a room with my counsellor feeling like I'd actually achieved something and been heard. "That must be hard" is a phrase I hear over and over in my sessions, yes, it is hard. But that's why I'm seeking help. It's only as hard as you make it. And I'm done being a passive member in my life. This blog won't always be well written or interesting. But I hope it helps save my life. (or what's left of it) lots of love xx (feel that the cliche sign off is compulsory if I want to do this properly)
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“Many of my research participants who had gone through a painful breakup or divorce, been betrayed by a partner, or experienced a distant or uncaring relationship with a parent or family member spoke about responding to their pain with a story about being unlovable—a narrative questioning if they were worthy of being loved. 455 more words