SESSION TWO

‘You do quite a lot, then,’ Bjorg said, her hands folded in her lap. She’d just asked about my week and I’d haltingly taken her through all the things I did at work, all the side projects I had, and my hobbies. ‘How do you cope with that?’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, scrunching and unscrunching my toes in my shoes.

‘Well, you said here …’ She leant forward and rested her fingertips on the PHQ on the table. ‘That you’re having trouble concentrating, that you’re easily irritated, that you feel bad about yourself constantly, that you’re so anxious it’s hard to sit still …’ She sat back in her chair, while I tried to subtly press my feet hard to the floor to stop my legs jiggling. ‘And you’ve said before that you often feel overwhelmed by your own feelings.’ She cocked her head to one side, her crooked smile a little rueful. ‘That’s a lot to deal with, along with all your work and your hobbies and everything, isn’t it?’

‘Well, it is, but I just get on with it. I have to,’ I replied, every inch of me uncomfortable. It’s so fucking annoying that to get to the good bit of therapy, i.e. not being mad any more, you have to go through this horrible painful bit first. Like childbirth, but you don’t get a lovely baby at the end – and there’s only mildly less shit, tears and vomit to deal with. ‘And it’s okay in the day, to be honest. I mean, in the day I have to keep going, there isn’t an option. It’s at night when it feels like everything falls apart.’

‘Mmm, okay,’ Bjorg said slowly, nodding seriously. ‘And what happens then?’

‘Um …’ Be honest, Jones. She can’t help unless you’re honest. ‘Sometimes … crying. Sometimes I, uh … I eat until it hurts. Sometimes I just get stuck, staring at a wall for hours, or at my phone without really doing anything, and then I get wound up and frustrated.’ I gave an awkward bark of a laugh, even though nothing felt funny. ‘Okay, maybe “fall apart” was an exaggeration.’

‘Do you find it hard to relax?’ she asked, ignoring me.

I nod. ‘Garry – uh, my husband – he gets frustrated because he just wants to curl up and watch TV, but I get restless if I’m not doing something productive.’

‘Oh, really?’ she said, sitting back in her chair and cocking her head again. Although she spoke English perfectly, her voice was melodious in an entirely un-English way. It reminded me of the way people spoke in Wales, the way my family spoke – it was soothing. ‘Something productive, like what?’

‘Um … Cleaning up? Exercising? Reading the news, baking, writing, learning songs on the guitar, knitting, sewing … I have these big lists of all the things I want to do, and if I’m not doing anything that gets me towards ticking things off those lists, then I feel really panicky and uncomfortable. And then I feel so panicky, I get paralysed by it and can’t do anything, and it just becomes a big tangly mess.’ Pause. ‘I’m not good at doing nothing worthwhile.’

‘Huh,’ Bjorg said. ‘That’s really interesting.’ Christ, either she’s very kind, or she’s a fucking simpleton. ‘And what makes you uncomfortable, in this idea that you’re “doing nothing worthwhile”?’

‘Because everyone else does things that are worthwhile all the time!’ I burst out. ‘God, everyone else always does so much. Everyone else is always going to the theatre or speaking on panels, or using their amazing artistic skills to make these incredible things, or … or travelling, or reading ten books a week, or doing all these amazing fitness things, and I’m just sat at home watching telly or doing nothing, because I’m pathetic.’

‘Don’t you think you might need some time to sit at home and do nothing?’ she asked placidly. I frowned. She smiled brightly in response, absolutely no fucks given. ‘You spend all day worrying about things, right? And then thinking all these things about how you’re not good enough, how you need to be better, work harder – despite working very hard, on lots of different things – and then having to recover from thinking all these things, and keep going, and doing what you need to get through the day.’ She exhaled dramatically, shaking her head. ‘Whoof! Sounds pretty exhausting, right?’ I nodded begrudgingly. ‘So, doesn’t it make sense that you might need to rest?’

‘No one else seems to,’ I grumbled.

Her face twitched; I feel like she would have grinned, if she could.

‘Okay,’ she said, settling herself more comfortably in her chair. ‘So, why don’t you try something new this week? Why don’t you add two things that involve looking after yourself a bit more to your list? That way, you’re still being productive, but you’re also giving yourself the downtime you need.’

‘What kind of things?’

‘Like, going for a walk. Just a little one, for ten minutes or so. Doing some yoga. Having a shower, or at least washing your face, or reading, or something like that.’ She looked at me, head on one side, eyes sleepy but smiling. ‘Do you think you can do that?’

‘Uh, sure,’ I said. No. Be strong in your intentions, you weakling. ‘I mean, yes. Yes, I can.’

‘Great!’ Bjorg said, sitting up straight and beaming at me. Cautiously, I smiled back. ‘And you said you like to keep lists to track all the things you need to do – do you think you could keep another list, too?’

‘What kind of list?’

‘A list of all the things you’ve done in a day.’

‘Isn’t that just a completed To-Do list?’

‘Well, no,’ Bjorg said, leaning back in her chair. ‘I mean, all the things you wouldn’t necessarily put on a To-Do List. Washing your hair, picking out a nice outfit, having conversations that were difficult, that kind of thing. We do a lot in a day, and we don’t give ourselves credit for it. Maybe it’s time you did.’

‘O–kay,’ I said slowly, thinking that this sounded like the stupidest thing in the world. ‘I can give it a go.’

‘Good!’ Bjorg said brightly. ‘And you’ve said on your form that you’re still having daily thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself, or that people would be better off if you weren’t around. Are you going to act on those feelings?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I can’t. Garry, my parents, my friends …’

‘That’s good.’ She stood up and opened the door for me. ‘And remember, two things a day to take care of yourself.’

‘Two things a day. Yes, okay.’