And so it begins...

Apprehension

So, I shall begin my blog with what happened after I was told I would have treatment and was accepted onto the MBT programme. I assumed, obviously very wrongly, that with the bureaucracy out of the way, I could concentrate on the actual treatment. However, before I can get to that, there was, of course, more stress. The programme was to start in June with first a meeting with my individual therapist, followed up by my first group meeting. Out of nowhere the hospital called and told me my appointment had been cancelled. When I inquired as to what precisely had been cancelled (was it the individual therapy, the group therapy, the whole programme), I was given no information or reassurance. Following a very tense, and for me, very upsetting meeting with the programme head, it was made clear that due to staff shortages, I, for the the time being, would have no individual therapist. I would, however, still be starting the group therapy. It is interesting to note that, two months on I still do not have one. Still, I am getting ahead of myself. Finally, I was in a position to examine exactly how I felt about attending a group therapy session. The best word to describe my state of mind was apprehension.

As bad as I was fearing?

I don't know anyone who suffers from BPD so I don't know if my behaviour is normal or not, but I don't really talk to anyone about what's going on with me. Not my friends, certainly not my family and until recently, not with work either. Until this year most of my very large family had no idea I had had one overdose, let alone four and suffering from a mental health condition. Therefore the idea of talking about my extremely irrational and personal feelings was not something that in anyway appealed to me.

I mainly worried that I would not like the other people in the group, that they would not be 'like me' and that they would be more severely ill than I was. My main concern was that they would be psychotic and it would be like a longer, more intense version of the waiting room at the community mental health team. I had already decided that I would sit there, offering nothing and speaking only when I was directly asked a question. I entered the room on the first day, sat down, folded my arms and stared intently at the floor. This would become my default position for the majority of the next two months.

The reality was there were 6 of us, 4 girls and 2 boys of varying ages. I would guess I am at the younger end. I was half right and half wrong in my predictions. Not one of them appears to be suffering, at least outwardly, from psychosis. Although we all clearly have different problems and issues, I would say that we are of an equal-ish severity when it comes to the condition. Still, as I sat down and looked round the room, on an initial very superficial basis, I did not like a single one. Once we had all spoke and I had a chance to base my decisions on more than looks alone I concluded, yes I still don't like them. For some members this would change over time, for others it would not.

Ground rules

I won't say much about the therapists themselves (there are two leading the sessions) apart from to say imagine the most stereotypical therapist you can think of. Now double that and you are roughly where I am. I found it irritating to begin with, I now find it comical. Once we had 'introduced ourselves' they laid out the ground rules for the group, inviting us to suggest anymore as we saw fit. I won't bore you with all of them, they are exactly what you are imagining, respect others, confidentiality etc. There was one that I found odd. If you wanted to leave the group, you must tell the group in person and given them '4 weeks notice'. It seemed to me that I had decided that it wasn't for me, I would simply stop turning up, such as has happened with one member.

Going forward

I spent the first session sizing everyone up, putting them into the pigeon holes I love creating for people. I also spent a lot of time listening. I desperately didn't want to be there, but if there was a guarantee that by being there I would get better, then I wanted to make sure I heard it. I wanted to be able to call upon it, if after 18 months I wasn't fixed as advertised. But mainly, I sat there thinking, this isn't going to help me. This was my last chance to lead a 'normal life' and I can tell already that it isn't going to work. At that stage I wasn't thinking about dropping out but I was feeling very down about spending the next 18 months with people I didn't like, talking about things I didn't want to for no tangible benefit. Why then, had I decided not to drop out? Honestly, I don't know. I have a strong sense of fairness and, I suppose, propriety. I had committed to doing this programme, which probably has a waiting list, so whether I like it or not I am going to stick with it.

It is not an attitude I would maintain, but that is for another day.

Until next time, over and out.