Julie Hayward goes with the flow

My new hobby is crying. Soul searching has become my full-time job and to top it off, I accidentally (honest, guv), found myself on a porn-site when I googled ‘felt senses, looking for information about Eugene Gendlin. All this has come about because I’m  training to become a counsellor – yes, I know there’s a glut of them out there, but there you go, trust me to choose a profession that’s been done to death!

We’re required to see a therapist ourselves whilst in-training, something which I’ve avoided at all costs for many years, slightly ironic considering my chosen career.  

I’m prepared for traumatic times ahead, on the course timetable are four residential weekends, at a hotel in Eastbourne, spread out over the two years of the course . I fear it’s not going to be sand, sea and sex, but rather, weeping, wailing an hand wringing, digging up painful, deeply buried traumas from my past.
Choosing a counsellor, was an ordeal in itself – despite Brighton being virtually saturated with counsellors, or maybe because there is so many, it took me nearly forever to make a choice. I was so resistant to seeing one – why pay good money and spend my valuable time talking about stuff that makes me feel uncomfortable and cry, when I can do that with a friend for free over a glass of wine. I had my first session today and didn’t even get a glass of counsellor’s pop, (that’s water to you).

I was told we could sit quietly and do a bit of meditation if I wanted, but I can sit quietly at home for free so I declined that offer, I was determined to talk for England to get my money’s worth. 

At the beginning of the day at college, the whole class sits in a circle , in, what I believe’s called a Process group, for an hour and what a process it is.  It feels to me, like sitting and waiting to see who will be the first to crack and I always feel like my heart’s going to take off, if I don’t summon the courage to speak out as soon as possible, so that I can then relax feeling that the pressure’s off.

Towards the end of the day, when I feel brain dead from attempting to make some order out of all the information I’ve received during the day, we do skills practise, which involves sitting in front of 5 others, pretending to be a counsellor with my pretend client (a real person, pretending to be my client)and making a complete and utter twat of myself.

To top it all off, I read an exert today,from none other than Freud, stating that old people, (by that he means over 50) are no longer educable!  Great, shall I drop out of the course now or plough on regardless.

I’m going to grit my teeth and attempt to go with the flow.