Counselling

My first counselling session took place on December 5th, nine months to the day since my formal diagnosis. Just that fact alone makes my heart ache. I understand how tough these days are, and that so many people are in the same position I am - adrift in life and suffering as a result - but to make a person who considers suicide daily at least wait for professional help for such a long time seems risky to the point of counter-production. What if events had been worse than they were, and I had found myself unable to cope? How might I have coped without Leo to turn to? It seems that I am alive through sheer luck, and it scares me to think of the variables that might have led to a different situation.

Still, here I am and in the care of my counsellor. She is a very sweet and patient lady, and it is remarkable how much she reminds me of my previous counsellor, separated now by three hundred miles and ten years. They have the same hair colour, dress sense and glasses, and at first sight I felt completely comfortable talking to my current counsellor. She has a southern accent, which also helps - sometimes, even being surrounded by Mancunian voices makes me feel isolated. My previous counsellor was Scottish, but then I am always calmed by Scots voices. Perhaps that is a throwback to my ancient Scottish ancestry - something my new counsellor was very interested to hear about.

I have had three sessions with her so far, and I have surprised myself with the things I have spoken about. It seems as though my sense of self has evaporated amidst my worry for my nearest and dearest, Leo in particular. I love him as fiercely as ever, despite our mutual inability to love romantically rather than platonically, but I was shocked to discover how much his mood impacts upon my own. If Leo's mood is low, I worry about him. If I can do nothing to lift his spirits, I feel useless as a result. Without a job of my own or anyone else around me every moment, his happiness is my only purpose. My counsellor has told me that this is far from strange, as so many of my friends tell me. In the absence of any other job to do, this is good for me - although she tells me that balancing Leo's mood with my own must be hard work indeed.

Then there is the rest of our family to worry about. Both of our fathers are suffering with memory problems. Leo's mother has been diagnosed with Korsakov's syndrome, and does not know him. My parents continue to hang on the brink of divorce. Leo's sister has had awful financial difficulties. My grandmother battles through her health problems, but trying to imagine life without her fills me with dread. My sister Alba is the only one of the three of us siblings without a degree, yet has the best career and is about to buy a house with her partner. I keep having to borrow money from my mother's pension, which causes me great shame. Her poor relationship with Leo continues to put me in the middle of a strained, awkward situation. I have not slept through the night in over a year. There is no respite and no hope that I can see.

My counsellor has given me two sets of homework so far. First, she gave a me a mood diary to keep for a week. It turned out to be one of those rare "good" weeks, with only one bad day. With Christmas nearing, I had a lot to do, and it kept my mood level. My second assignment, however, has been less easy to maintain. She asked me to do one thing a day that I enjoy, which in theory should have been easy. Visiting my parents over the festive period made it almost impossible. Christmas for my family revolves around food and television, and there is often a sense not so much of togetherness as there is of claustrophobia - made all the worse this year by the cluttered and cramped state of the house my grandmother and aunt share, which is where I have spent every Christmas of my life. The gifts I worked so hard to make by hand seemed to disappoint their recipients, and by lunchtime of Christmas Day all I wanted was to run back home to Leo and his dad.

Luckily, Christmas comes but once a year, and home brings enough freedom to do the best I can do for myself. Leo has recently been referred to a psychiatrist himself - not a moment too soon - but he is still my greatest comfort and my best friend. Having someone that understands you completely, even if they cannot always lend you the best support, is a great gift. Having a neutral party to turn to for that support is even greater. It's too early to know whether I feel stronger for it, but the potential is there. I am lucky.