Tuesday May 14, 2019

Recently I started commenting on Moodscope blogs, or replying to comments. Just a few tentative messages sent, but such a warm response from fellow Moodscopers! It felt so good. I mentioned how transformative my NHS Transference Focused Psychotherapy had been for me, and it was suggested I blog about it.

I really want to do this and am making a start here... But for me it's a gigantic topic, because it was the culmination in many ways of lots of treatment for depression and anxiety. Have any of you glanced at your GP records online? I glanced at mine yesterday, as I was signing up to book appointments on the Patient Access website. There's not much information on there, just a brief snapshot. In fact my medical history was summed up in about twelve headings. Most of these referenced my mental health issues. I felt sad to read the duration of my treatment, and the severity of symptoms.

But, but, but. I'm new now. As of the last three years, I'm completely new. And this is down to the Transference Focused Therapy (TFP) that I received for 15 months. I'm not 'cured', and I don't think I want to be. And I'm not a different person either, I'm the same person, but a better version than there's ever been of me. Better for me means stronger, clearer about who I am, more adjusted to what life is like and lots of other things that I hadn't foreseen. To be honest it was like magic... A magic which is still ongoing.

But the magic came after some serious non-magic. The start of therapy jolly well hurt. In fact, the first ten weeks nearly killed me. I had to allow an hour after therapy to sit in the car crying. Tears would have blinded me otherwise, it wouldn't have been safe. A couple of times I got a friend to drive me. I felt unsure I'd be able to drive back. When I got home I'd often have to sleep the whole afternoon, perhaps longer. I could barely speak, I was so drained.

My suicidal ideation increased. Other bad stuff increased. My care co-ordinator suggested I stop therapy. I fought tooth and nail to keep going. It was my lifeline, I knew. Yes, it was causing my life to spiral downwards, it seemed. But I needed it. Without it I had no hope. Thankfully my therapist agreed. We should not give up.

So that's how the therapy began. But to get to the point where I was ready to have that therapy and the NHS were ready to give to me... That's another story. So many things had to happen before the magic could start.

And of course there's the story of how the therapy progressed, and what it achieved, which I'm very willing to share, if you think it might be interesting.

A Moodscope member.

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