difficult decisions and admitting that i *may* have been wrong

So, as those of you who know me personally will know, I was pretty damn certain that once I finished at therapy I would return to Brighton to finish my degree in Philosophy and English Literature. As you will also know, I am really stubborn. In fact that is an understatement. I am ridiculously stubborn. And I hate admitting that I am wrong. For a long while, I avoided even thinking about University; stuck in this little part of my brain that was stubbornly convinced that I would return to Brighton and everything would be great. I wouldn't even let myself admit that I was scared that actually it wouldn't be all that great; because last time I thought that it would be great and... well... look what happened there. Then, just after Christmas, my mother brought up the subject of University. It's hard for me to realise this, let alone accept it, but she's scared too. She's scared of how ill I was and of what might happen if I go back to Brighton. She may not have put it in the best way and it may have turned into an argument, but what she said basically amounted to her telling me she's scared for me, she doesn't think I'll be ready to go back to Brighton and she doesn't want to have to go through what she went through last time if it doesn't work out again. She wanted me to transfer to York St John. I didn't want to listen at first. There's a whole bunch of issues that goes along with this, like feeling stupid for failing Uni; feeling like I'm going backwards; feeling like a child, unable to look after myself; not wanting to end up like some people I know who are in their 40s and still live at home... the list goes on, and on, and on. I was also scared that York St John wouldn't accept me and then I'd never be able to finish my degree. (That may seem like a silly fear, but it's not for me. I have a very low opinion of myself and I genuinely cannot see why they would accept me.) Eventually, I realised I had to think about this stuff. In fact, after that conversation, I couldn't stop thinking about stuff. Getting my degree is what's most important to me now. I was lazy in my GCSEs and ALevels. And in my first year of my degree to an extent. And then my damned psycho brain decided to screw it all up even more. It was bound to happen eventually. Anyway... I've realised that what I really want is to get my degree, do a PGCE and become an English teacher. And whether I do those things in Brighton or in York, or even on the moon, doesn't matter. The important thing is to do them. Sure I don't want to live at home forever, and I won't, but right now, it's my best shot of getting a degree. And if therapy has taught me anything - actually, it's taught me a lot - it's taught me that sometimes, just *sometimes* mind, I can be wrong and I am too stubborn for my own good. So I decided to do something that I have never done in the history of ever, and I listened to my mother. *Pause for the shocked horror of my friends* I looked at the English Literature and Creative Writing course at York St John - they don't do Philosophy and actually I love writing so this course makes a lot of sense - and I emailed them about transferring. I had a lot of support and prayer from my friends in York. I've settled into a church here now - York City Church - and everyone has been so loving and welcoming and I have met so many people and made so many friends, the idea of leaving actually would make me incredibly sad. I would miss everyone, A LOT. So maybe staying in York could work out. Finally, after various emails and the University looking over my grades and everything, just over a week ago now, they said they would be happy to accept me as a transfer. I still have to do a UCAS form - I MUST be masochistic! - but I'm basically in. I wasn't expecting quite how happy this actually made me. I got in. And I get to stay in York, at my wonderful church, with all my wonderful friends. And my family, however much I argue with my mother at times, will be close by if I need them. So I've almost completed the dreaded UCAS form. I even made the daring step of contacting my academic advisor from Sussex to request a reference, which he agreed to do. I just have to do the personal statement. The worst part. The part that I tried to do last weekend and just ended up with hundreds of screwed up balls of paper all over my bedroom floor, and then have just avoided doing for the rest of the week. Funny how I can sit at my laptop and write this so easily and without a second's thought, but not write a personal statement - which is what I had originally intended to do when I sat down to my laptop earlier this evening. My skills of avoidance and procrastination know no bounds! - just don't tell my therapists... especially PHIL! Who wants me to write and draft and then take it into therapy for people to read and tell me if it's good and what else I can include, because apparently I'm too harsh a critic to myself and I just *think* it's crap but actually other people will be able to tell me it's not. Well this is just another of my many millions of issues... I cannot write about myself, especially not favourably, and I really think that most of what I write is a load of crap anyway so writing a personal statement is hell for me! As for letting other people at therapy see it?! No thank you! I don't want them realising that actually I'm really thick. And I'm really bad at taking criticism and practical advice so this is really just going to end badly. I did mention that I'm stubborn, right? I have this feeling that I'm going to just write it and send it and then make excuses next week, but I know that I really really shouldn't do that... So now I'm stuck. Because I know that the right thing for me therapeutically would be to do as Phil suggested and write a draft and let people at therapy help me, but I'm really so stubborn - and actually really fragile - that I don't know if I can do it... I wonder how this one is going to play out. Anyway... I have successfully avoided actually writing this damned personal statement for a good hour or so now... and I really should quit with the procrastination and just get on with it... Oh well, this was fun while it lasted. I'll post again sometime... not sure when. I'm pretty crappy when it comes to this blogging thing; I have no self-discipline - yet another issue I need to deal with, no wonder I'm in therapy!

Honesty, Fears and Infertility

On Friday September 14^th 2012 I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome or PCOS. I had heard of PCOS but didn’t know much about it until I watched a television programme on which there was a woman who suffered from the syndrome. Some of the symptoms sounded similar to symptoms that I had been experiencing for years so I looked up the syndrome online. The symptoms include: irregular or absent periods; excessive hair growth; excessive weight gain or difficulty losing weight; severe acne, not just limited to the face, and cysts on the ovaries. Depression can also be a symptom of PCOS. I went to my GP and described the symptoms to him, asking him if it was possible that I had PCOS. My doctor said it was highly likely that I did have it and so he took some blood to test for it. The first lot of tests were inconclusive but my GP was fairly certain that I had the syndrome and so he referred me to an Endocrinologist; a specialist who deals with hormone disorders including diabetes and PCOS. I saw the Endocrinologist on the 14^th September and he did several tests, as well as a physical examination, before officially diagnosing me with PCOS.

            PCOS is caused mostly by a hormonal imbalance. The ovaries produce more male hormones than they should which affects the production of eggs and leads to the production of lots of little cysts all over the ovaries. PCOS also has an element of insulin resistance. Women who have the syndrome have an excess of insulin which increases the production of the male hormones, causing all of the symptoms. This is also what makes it difficult for women with PCOS to lose weight because their bodies cannot process sugars and starches properly. The increased weight, however, also makes the symptoms worse creating a kind of vicious cycle which is difficult to get out of.

            There are a couple of different treatments for PCOS. The usual treatment is just to take the contraceptive pill, which increases the levels of female hormone thus reducing some of the symptoms, however, this doesn’t always work especially for women with a high insulin resistance factor. A treatment that has become more frequently offered to women with insulin resistance is a drug called Metformin. Metformin is traditionally a Diabetes medication, which is why it helps with the insulin resistance. For women who receive the Metformin treatment, they are also required to dramatically alter their diets in order to help them lose weight and to allow the drug to work more effectively.

            When I saw the Endocrinologist in September he decided that the best treatment for me was the Metformin treatment. Since I saw him, I have been trying to follow the diet advice I was given, have lost some weight and have noticed some improvement in a couple of the symptoms. I saw the Endocrinologist again in December and he seemed pleased enough with the progress I had made, so he said that I wouldn’t need to see him again until next September, a year after I was first diagnosed. The diet is sometimes difficult to manage and I’m hoping to see a dietician at some point to help me get it more under control.

            So far all I’ve written about in this post is factual stuff about Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, but one fact I’ve not directly mentioned, the one that scares me most, is that PCOS can cause infertility. I’ve not written at all about how being diagnosed with PCOS has made me feel. I have always wanted children. I have never wanted anything more than to have children one day; a family of my own. And I have always had this fear, this immense, awful fear, that I won’t be able to. I used to think that I would never have children, just because I never thought that any man would want me enough to marry me and have children with me. But I let myself hope, dream, that maybe actually God would give me a husband. And then I get told that because of my PCOS I might be infertile; might never be able to have children. And that thought is almost destroying me. People keep telling me to try not to worry about it. That I can’t know for certain that I am infertile until I try for a family and get tested. That I’m just catastrophising it in my head; creating a problem that may not exist. But when your life’s hopes and dreams have been almost entirely built on something, to have even the slightest uncertainty that you will get it… it feels like the whole world has been ripped out from under you. I feel like my future has been destroyed and though I’ve been trying not to think like that and to think about other things I could do in my future, but it feels like there is this massive black hole in my life that is never going to close. And I can’t help but think that my life has no purpose, if I’m not able to have children.

            Call me melodramatic. Say I’m over-reacting. But this thing is killing me. And I just needed to tell the truth. To someone. Anyone. Everyone. I’m scared. Terrified. I just want to have children.

rambles about life

it has been a rather long time since i last posted on this blog; in fact it's been around thirteen weeks. life has been rather busy in that time. i never realised just how tiring group therapy could be. i think that now, after seventeen weeks, i am getting used to the frustration and exhaustion that comes with attending therapy three and a half days a week. though it still is extremely exhausting and i have another eight months to go! some days i wonder if i'll survive another eight months of this. actually i wonder that everyday. but some of those days i am reminded of why i put myself through it. it is helping somewhat but it's a lot of hard work and i still struggle with things; especially with being challenged about certain behaviours. this week has been especially difficult and frustrating and i have left every night with a tension headache because it's been such hard work. at the moment i am what is called 'duty member'. 'duty member' is a role in the community that involves supporting other community members if they are in distress outside of therapy spaces or if they leave the therapy space for some reason during a session. as duty member for the last three weeks i have had to be there to support people emotionally but for some reason, this week, it has been especially difficult to fulfil this role.

my faith has been very important in my journey through therapy thus far as it has helped me to understand my issues better and to remain patient through my frustrations. i have been constantly praying through my therapy; praying that i can be patient and support others. i believe that this therapy has been a real blessing from God and i really can see His hand in it, though sometimes i have to remind myself of this and pray for God to keep reminding me of this and i know that i need to keep bringing it back to Him and asking for the strength to deal with everything that comes from it. as well as everything that i am learning through my therapy, i believe that i am learning a lot in my relationship with God. i have just been invited to join a small group at church which i am really excited about and the first small group that i attended this week was a real blessing for me. i also feel that the preaches in church in the last few months have been so transforming and spirit-filled for me and i am just so excited to see what He has in store for me.

today, being the first of november, is the first day of national novel writing month. i attempted this last year but did not complete it as i gave up on my novel part way through. this year i prefer my novel and so really hope that i manage to complete it. i love writing and, though it will be difficult to manage nano with my therapy, i really want to write an actual novel. i will attempt to keep this blog updated on my progress throughout the month, though i won't make any promises.

for now, i should really use my words for my nano instead of blogging. i just really felt a pull to write a blog post kind of updating how things are going in my life. i guess the basic gist of things is that life is frustrating, hard and busy at the moment but i'm actually feeling pretty positive about life at the moment. i guess therapy really is helping.

Week Four in the Mad House

            So I have survived another week in the mad house, making my time there a total of four weeks. Community meeting on Monday morning saw my admission of self-harming the night before and a futile discussion about the person who didn’t turn up on the Thursday before. Community meeting followed by small group which was much the same as always; we sat in a group and talked about things and most of it was dominated by the same person. By lunch little of note had happened.

            After lunch was art therapy, which I have already established as my worst session, but I had decided to try and have a at it. The session always starts with everyone discussing the work from the previous week. People commented on mine and asked me how I felt about it. I said that it had been stubborn and I had been trying to prove a point but that I would, in future, try harder in the art sessions. Somehow, what was supposed to be a positive thing turned into yet another argument and, though I had intended to try not to rise to it and meet aggression with aggression, I admit that I reverted to my old habit of fighting back. I was already angry and upset with myself about the weekend and cutting myself the night before and so, when people started having a go at me, I got upset. At some point the argument abated and we got on with the art bit of the session. I drew a TARDIS. For the most part my reason behind that choice was because I like Doctor Who but the more I thought about it I realised that the TARDIS does have some symbolic meaning; it is bigger on the inside which feels like me because I do have a lot to give but it’s all on the inside and I don’t always show it on the outside. Also, the chameleon filter on the TARDIS is broken, which means it is always stuck as a police telephone box, and sometimes it feels like I am permanently stuck as this fat, pathetic, depressed person but I don’t want to be.

            After the time for doing art was up we had to sit and discuss what we had done. Unfortunately this discussion just resulted in further arguments because it appears that some community members think that there is a divide between the two small groups. One person in particular went as far as to say that they thought that some of the members in the small group that I’m in seem to get more attention because they cry or get aggressive or storm out. This upset a few people and when it was nearly time for the session to end, though the therapist hadn’t actually called time, the person who had said that some people were just attention seeking walked out. Half a minute later the therapist called time and the rest of the community left the room but by that time the person who had stormed out had already gone home. I left to go home feeling absolutely rubbish because I felt like all the arguments had been my fault and that everyone thought I was just an attention seeker. I know that isn’t completely true and that it was just my paranoia making me think that but I do often think that I am just an attention seeker and I felt really persecuted by the guy.

            On the Tuesday morning I really didn’t want to go back to the mad house. I felt paranoid and anxious and didn’t want to be around people, but I made myself go and face everyone. The guy who had stormed out of art the day before, however, did not turn up which only served to make me feel even worse. In the community meeting I apologised to the rest of the community for my behaviour in art but I had really wanted to apologise to the guy who had stormed out, so I was annoyed that he hadn’t turned up and I thought that he was just being childish. Large group therapy was difficult. The general atmosphere was so tense and, although no arguments broke out, it was a horrible place to be and was really anxiety-provoking. Everyone was really glad to get out of the room when time was called and when it came to TBC I was pleased that it was housekeeping because it meant that I could do something active rather than just sitting around talking.

            That afternoon was awareness which just makes me think of PSHE in school or something. The session started, as usual, with a couple of warm-up games then it was decided that the main topic would be a role-play around the theme of assertiveness, especially when dealing with receptionists at doctors’ surgeries. We had already done something about assertiveness recently but I didn’t complain because it meant that I could just sit back and watch and it was far removed from the frustrations and the conflicts of the day before. Awareness went rather quickly and again I was glad to get away at the end of the day and go home.

            On Wednesday morning I didn’t want to go in again, but again I made myself. The guy who walked out on Monday afternoon was back but community meeting did little to deal with the fact that he had walked out and then not even come in on the Tuesday. He said that he wanted to leave the programme completely and that he had only come in to talk about leaving because people had asked him to. This made me feel even worse and my brain kept telling me that it was all my fault – I really need to sort out this paranoia because it’s driving me insane. I had wanted to bring it in to small group but struggled to find an appropriate gap in the flow of the conversation. Again I got frustrated because one person just seemed to dominate the entire session – like always – and another person just sulked and said he wanted the group to vote him out because he didn’t want to be there anymore, which I just thought was him being childish and wanting to know that people cared and wanted him to be there. To be honest I’m getting rather sick of middle-aged men having temper tantrums – they’re just acting like two-year-olds.

            After lunch was working party. I had thought that we had reached some kind of conclusion on the subject we had been discussing the week before but apparently other people thought otherwise. The conversation started to turn into another argument and I was getting extremely frustrated with people just talking over each other. By the end of it I just wanted to leave the mad house and never go back. I probably sound like such a drama queen but I am getting really pissed off with the place and sometimes I just can’t take all the stress and the arguing. After working party it was PAG which actually went quite well because there was a potential new member there so the session was pretty much spent doing her assessment so I didn’t have to do or say anything. After group was also pretty uneventful. Everyone was tired and just wanted to leave so when time was called everyone was glad to get out of there – especially me.

            On Thursday morning after community meeting it was reviews. That day was the review of the guy who had walked out of art on the Monday. People had managed to persuade him to stay for his review and I was actually glad that he was there because, though he had acted childishly, so had I and I wanted to apologise to him for shouting at him on Monday. By the end of the reviews I felt a little better because I had been able to apologise and the guy had come up to me and said thanks for doing so. Check-out and lunch were good and, before I knew it, it was the end of my fourth week in the mad house.

            I am planning on going in tomorrow, so I should probably go and get some sleep now. But before I do; a couple of prayer requests. Prayers for the week ahead would be greatly appreciated and please pray about my current struggles with paranoia; it’s really bothering me. Also, please pray that I don’t get so frustrated and annoyed with people so quickly and that I can learn to manage those feelings better. Last week was a real lesson for me in patience and in not fighting back when people push me – I still have to work on those things – but I am getting there slowly and maybe, with the help of the therapy programme, I’ll start to get better.

Thanks and God bless

KV

Week Three in the Mad House

This post is rather late; I wrote it last Friday but I’ve been really busy and tired and just haven’t had chance to post it until now.

            So the other day I wrote about art therapy last Monday afternoon in my post ‘An Exercise in Pointlessness’. In writing that post, and throughout the rest of the week, I realised that I had just been incredibly stubborn and even childish. I have my reasons for disliking art therapy, but sometimes we have to do things we don’t like. And also, looking back on the event now and being hit by just how stubborn and provocative I’d been (hindsight is always 20:20) I learnt that a large part of my response came from the fact that people challenged me, and when pushed, I push back. I’m not making excuses it’s just that I had never really noticed this before, because I never really took the time to acknowledge and examine these things. I can’t say that this discovery is a surprise, or a shock, as such, because it makes a lot of sense; it has just taken a long time to clear away the fog of so many (mostly irrational) thoughts in order to see things clearly. I have now decided to try art, and try to get something out of it, and to use the space on Monday afternoon to explore why I react in this way to things I don’t like. I have a feeling it’s going to be a struggle, because my initial reaction is to fight it.

            On Tuesday the sharing out of jobs in community group led to conflict when some of the community members didn’t want to put themselves forward for jobs. Other members challenged people about their aversions to jobs but somehow the discussion ended in rather heated arguments. This seemed to set the tone for the rest of the day. Large group therapy just seemed to be an extension of the same argument that occurred in community meeting, with the same people repeating the same tired arguments and then not listening to one another. The session felt somewhat wasted and there was a lot of stress and tension within the community.

            Things came to a head in the ‘To be Confirmed’ (TBC) session right before lunch. TBC is a difficult session as the structure is different from the rest of the time there. The last two weeks, as people were leaving, there were exhibitions of their art from the whole year, held during TBC. This week, however, the slot was a designated ‘creative’ session – though I’m not quite sure what that entails. At the beginning of the session, it was pointed out that the session should actually have been set for someone to demonstrate a skill to the group – an exercise in public speaking – but the person whose turn it was supposed to be had altered the schedule in order to put it off for their own personal reasons – which I cannot share due to confidentiality issues. This led into more discussion about jobs and people not taking responsibility for their actions. I know that I have been guilty of this myself and so felt that the reaction of some of the other community members was rather extreme.

            More arguments ensued and it got rather heated. I don’t much like conflict – though it may sometimes appear otherwise – and so got extremely anxious and had a panic attack. Before now I would have left the room when the panic attack came on, if not before, but I forced myself to stay in my seat, despite the intense urge to just run away. For all the argument about of structure, the structure for the session went completely out of the window, and anarchy and chaos presided. This only added to my distress and anxiety, as I need structure and routine. The arguments just kept going around in circles, with several people really getting on my nerves – this is why I don’t like people. Finally time was called and I rushed out of the room wanting air (it had been so stuffy in the therapy room) and to go home. I didn’t leave but I was still very upset and mistakenly started discussing what had happened, with another community member, in the social space. As this is breaking a ground rule I was advised to stop talking about it and bring it in to a therapy session; which I intend to do properly next week.

            Awareness that afternoon was not as bad as the morning. The main theme was body language and there was some discussion on the topic and a little role play. I was exhausted from the morning so the calmer atmosphere was greatly appreciated. When awareness was over I could go home. I was completely drained but had an appointment with my doctor that evening and so couldn’t just go home and rest. The appointment went well and talking about how the therapy was going actually helped me to put my feelings about it in perspective after such a stressful day. It seems that thus far my general feelings about it are positive.

            Wednesday morning in community meeting, unfortunately the arguments started all over again. I tried to stay calm and rational but failed miserably and when it came to small group therapy, and the conflict still continued, I started to have another panic attack. Again I did actually manage to stay seated. It was difficult, but I am grateful to one person in particular who tried to diffuse the situation. Towards the end of the session a kind of vague resolution was made, but I still felt very anxious and stressed.

            I had been selected to take part in Working Party, which takes place on Wednesday afternoons, immediately after lunch. Working Party consists of six community members and two therapists who discuss practical issues that affect the community. I didn’t particularly want to do it because I am not good at taking responsibility, but in the community that’s a reason to do it; I just feel it’s a bit soon - this week was only my third week. Despite my reservations it went quite well. We only discussed one point and at times it felt repetitive and I got frustrated with people talking over one another but by the end of the meeting it felt like we had actually achieved something, though it seemed a small thing.

            PAG followed Working Party, and again it went well. There was one person new to PAG and two people who were nearing the end of their assessment (as well as some other community members and two therapists). The two who were near the end of their assessment completed it in the session and were invited to start full time from Monday; so on Monday we will have two new members, making our numbers up to fourteen (not including the therapists).

            After PAG the whole community joined back together for After Group to discuss how both the previous sessions, and the day generally, had gone. By this time I was exhausted and really did not need more conflict. For the most part it went smoothly but were a couple of times when people got agitated and even aggressive. I think it’s fair to say that Tuesday and Wednesday were not great days; everyone was frustrated, annoyed and upset and people just weren’t listening to each other. It strikes me that, unless people actually listen to what other community members say, group therapy won’t work and the community will just fall apart.

            On Thursday, as I have previously explained, we are only in for the morning. We had boundaries and reviews, and then came to check-out. In check-out I explained that I was going to Brighton at the weekend for a wedding. I was really anxious about the journey and it was really stressful and anxiety-provoking, but I made it all the way to Brighton. I was also really anxious about the weekend as a whole. It was the first time I was going to be in Brighton since I left last summer and so I hadn’t seen anyone for over a year. I also hadn’t been away from home alone in all that time, let alone as far as Brighton. Then there was the anxiety over seeing people. I love my friends from Brighton and still keep in touch with some of them but, having been away so long, I have missed things. I also feel that I have changed a lot in the course of the year and so I worried that they wouldn’t have still liked me. I know that it was just my paranoia and anxiety that made me feel that way but I was really scared. Finally, I had been having a fat week, so I didn’t particularly feel like getting all dressed up for a wedding, even though I really wanted to be there. So (back to the point of this particular post) after I had explained this to the group, I went on to say that I had found the week very stressful and anxiety-provoking. After I had finished speaking, one of the therapists said that I “have a strong voice”. At the time I just responded with “I don’t feel it sometimes” but since, I have been wondering what exactly he meant by that comment, because I am not exactly sure. I think I might have to ask him for clarification because my paranoia is still doing over-time.

            The morning actually passed without conflict. One person was away but, though I wonder about it, I know that it wasn’t the whole reason behind the change in atmosphere from the Wednesday to the Thursday. That lunchtime we had a birthday lunch for a community member. I baked brownies for it and they seemed to go down well so that made me feel a little better about myself. That afternoon, I met my best friend in town, which seems to be becoming a weekly ritual, and ranted at her about the stresses and anxieties of the week. I am so blessed to have that woman in my life and I feel sorry for her having to listen to me complain all the time. However much I complain though, I have come to realise that I am blessed to have the opportunity to be part of the therapy programme. It may be frustrating at times, and very hard work, but I have already seen and felt some benefit. Please pray that it keeps working and I keep seeing the benefits.

Thanks and God bless

KV

An Exercise in Pointlessness

            So today began the third week in the mad house and this afternoon we had art therapy. As I mentioned in my post ‘Week Two in the Mad House’, I really struggle with the art therapy sessions as I just don’t get it. Today, at the beginning of the session people started to have a go at me about the fact that I prefer to write rather than draw or paint. Well, perhaps saying they were ‘having a go at me’ is a little immature, but I felt persecuted by everyone in the room. I know that the point of therapy is to make the things that are uncomfortable, comfortable, but people pressing me just makes the urge to fight or run away, even stronger. I also felt like people weren’t listening to what I was saying. Everyone kept telling me to just do whatever came to mind; to follow my instinct, but I do that through writing. Art doesn’t come naturally to me, words do, and so telling me to do what comes naturally, inspires me to write. I express myself through words; this blog is evidence of that. But no one would listen when I tried to explain this.

            Because of this I was frustrated and angry, so when it came to actually making the art I admit that I was stubborn and rebelled slightly. I spent ages looking through the art supplies for inspiration and just got more and more annoyed, but I was convinced that the therapist was making note of my stubbornness and so eventually decided to do something random just to prove how pointless it was. Pointless making me do something without feeling or meaning. I found a picture in a tattoo magazine of a tattoo of an eye. The image meant nothing to me; it was just the nicest one I saw. I cut it out and stuck it to a piece of card and then just left it at that. I called it ‘An Exercise in Pointlessness’ because I felt no connection to it; it held no meaning for me; it just felt completely pointless. After that there was still loads of time left and I still felt angry and frustrated, so I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and scrawled in large letters, taking up the entire A3 page, the question ‘WHY?’ I have felt so disillusioned with a number of things recently, the therapy being just one of them. By writing ‘why’ I was not only questioning being made to do something I didn’t want to, and thought was pointless, but I was voicing my doubts about a number of things. One might argue that by doing this I found purpose in the art therapy but I did so by using words; or at least a word. I didn’t use paint. I didn’t draw something. I wrote something. Which just proves my point that words can be ‘art’ and you don’t have to make an image.

            By this point the anger had receded slightly but I still felt like being stubborn and so, as there was still some time left, I grabbed another piece of paper. This time I just signed it and then left the rest of the page blank. My point in doing this was to express exactly what came to my mind when I entered art therapy on a Monday afternoon, NOTHING. Finally the time for creating the art was up and we had to sit and give feedback on each other’s work. Obviously people commented on mine, saying that they found it provocative and aggressive. I said that I felt apathetic towards my pieces of work but that may have been a slight lie. I did feel little towards the first piece that I did, but I was being stubborn when I said that they all meant nothing. Truthfully, I felt, and still feel, angry and upset and frustrated about the whole art therapy session and about the work I created.

            I’m still annoyed because, however childish it may be, I feel like I gave in to the pressure to create art. I was stubborn and deliberately made a point, through my work, of trying to rebel, by still using words and refusing to create something; leaving a blank page. But I gave in and produced something. And now I find myself questioning my work and the purpose and meaning that I placed upon it. I also find myself wondering why it is, exactly, that I dislike art so much. If therapy is going to make me think this much, I’m not sure I like it – and now I really am being stubborn and childish.

            I will write again soon I am sure.

God bless

KV