I received a letter in the post today marked for my attention plus private and confidential. Before I opened it I knew what it was to be. This letter was sent to invite me to my first Cognitive Behavioural Therapy session. On this fine sunny Saturday, I now have this dark cloud hanging over me which will grow until bursts on Tuesday morning. I have mixed up emotions about this. I know that this first session will be my initiation into the realm of therapy. It will be the opportunity that I have been waiting for since the end of May when I first approached my GP.
It was a very big step forward that I knew I had to make or else I would be suffering in silence and in outbursts. Unlike other ailments, those of our mind and emotions are not always visible. I know I concealed my anguish and pain behind the mask of smiles. The mask cracked and there were many tears holding it in place.
The GP visit felt like a small triumph. Yes, I can get help. But this help takes many many weeks on the NHS. But it is free and I can not complain about money. Because that is what fundamentally the NHS is controlled by. How much coin can we move from defence spending into helping our citizens? Well, according to the government we are all going to have to make do with 40% less.
There will be casualties because of these cutbacks. And right now there are too many poor souls who do not have the means to get private healthcare and must self medicate. And this is not prescription medicine, it is drugs and alcohol. These are people who are on the fringes of society.
But I am fortunate to have a job and a place to call home. I have enough of my wits with me to know how and when I need to get help.