Sitting in A & E at 4 am, your mind can go to some very strange places. Having recently been in this situation, due to an irritating (and excruciatingly painful) kidney stone, I was taken to drawing some parallels between that predicament and the process of counselling. Engaging in counselling is not often seen as “matter of fact” or “normal” as a trip to the doctors, but why shouldn’t mental health be regarded in the same way as our physical health? I will outline some of the thoughts that led me to this conclusion:
Its ok to ask for help: I was in a huge amount of pain with my stone. I informed the nurses and doctor, and I know they believed me. I wanted the pain to stop, and yet I held back from asking for help with this. Even though I would have paid pretty much anything for someone to wave a magic wand and make it all go away, I was still struck a wave of negative automatic thoughts. “Am I allowed to ask for pain relief?”, “Will the doctor think I am exaggerating?”, “ A real man would be able to handle this pain”, “ I really shouldn’t make a fuss”, “I am sure I would have been given something if I needed it; I’m just being silly”, “What if they give me something and it makes it worse?”. All of this was going through my mind while I was suffering. Eventually I realised the irrationality of the thoughts and asked if I could have something for the pain. The nurse said it was the next question on her list. What I was given didn’t solve the issues, but it definitely took the edge off.
In the same way, it’s ok to seek help with mental health issues. You deserve it, and in no way does it make you weaker or lesser. In fact it shows that you are rational and aware enough to identify a problem and start to explore what you need. You are also strong enough to overcome all those messages and thoughts in your head telling you not to seek help. They feed on the pain you are feeling, and so it is an act of bravery to ignore them and seek assistance.
You are still more than your pain: I cannot praise the medical staff who treated me enough. They were kind, compassionate, but also really funny. That last quality was more important for me than I realised. For a good hour I had been with my pain before seeing a nurse. The pain had taken over my thoughts, feelings and actions. In a way it seemed that I was my pain, and my pain was me. I could feel myself responding angrily to comments and questions of concern from those around me. It became easy to believe that for the foreseeable future, that I was going to be grumpy man in pain.
It took a few well timed comments from a nurse to remind me that I was more than that. I was allowed to laugh, and I could still smile. It seems strange that I felt like I needed permission to. I had not forgotten how to do them. They didn’t take the pain away, but did show me that there was still more to me than the pain. I knew I wouldn’t be spending hours roaring with laughter, or grinning from ear to ear, but I did know that that was still a possibility.
Often with mental health issues it can seem that all the happiness, hope and love might have gone from the world. It can seem like we have forgotten how to smile. Society can even encourage it without knowing, through its unsubtle but misunderstanding judgement. I’ve heard comments questioning if someone really has depression, because they were seen laughing. Or the assumption that someone is over their grief because they were seen at a party. We often applaud those with illnesses and disabilities when they perform tasks that show that they are overcoming their issues. With mental health issues it is ok to know that we still have the full range of emotions inside. It is important to remind ourselves that it may take time, but we can still love, laugh and live, in spite of the hurt we may be feeling.
Pain distorts: Kidney stones are an acute form of pain. I cannot imagine what a more chronic form of pain must be like to live with. I assume it must seem like a huge part of a persons’ world. That was how it felt like even for the hours I was with it. The pain would come and go, and so I became aware of how distorting it was. When the pain struck, siting or being still became impossible and I would have to stand up and move in some way. These bouts of zombie-like motion seemed to me to last for a very long time. After the third incident, I apologised (like I could help it!) to my visitor that I had been like that for ages. It felt like twenty minutes or so. I was surprised to be informed that it had only been five. The pain had managed to throw off my normally pretty reliable internal clock. Later, after some more pain relief, I was able to take a nap. On waking I presumed I had nodded off for about ten minutes. The clock told me that fifty was more accurate. In that situation, the pain seemed like hours and the relief seemed like seconds. I asked if I had been making noises or been moving about, as that was what it had felt like. I had in fact been laying perfectly still.
When mental health problems strike they can leave us feeling pain and hurt. That can take over and distort our reality. The bouts of low feelings or anxiety seem to last for days, while the better times seem more fleeting. How we see ourselves behaving may not be what the world around us sees. Sometimes, when we are in a troubling time it is important to regain some objectivity. Seeking the view of a trusted friend, relative or professional can help to make things more real when they may have been distorted when our perceptions are clouded.
You have to go through, and not over things: I have mentioned before that I wished for a magic wand to make it all go away. I know magic wands don’t exist, so perhaps just opening me up and whipping out the stone was the answer. Actually, I wondered why they couldn’t go in and just take out the whole kidney. Then it’s sorted for ever. Perhaps there was some special movement I could do that will speed the dear little stone on his way. Of course, what I came to realise is that I had to accept that the stone was on a journey. It was going to be a horrible and painful journey, but it was going to have an end. That acceptance was a comfort, because it showed me the temporary nature of the situation. I had no idea how long the journey would take or where the bumps in the road would be, but I knew it would reach a conclusion. It allowed me to put out of my mind the impossible wishes and the very permanent solutions which I was contemplating, for a temporary problem. I could then concentrate on developing strategies to help me on the journey, like my strange rocking technique, or focussing on my breathing when it all got too intense.
It is very clichéd to describe counselling as a journey, however, it is. It is a process that takes time and commitment. It is often a painful and horrible process, but like a journey it has an end. That end might be a change or improvement in a situation, or a better understanding and acceptance of an issue. Strategies might be developed to help you manage through a situation. What it isn’t is a magical fix. It is not a way around or over issues. That is why embarking on counselling is not a sign of weakness, because it is an agreement and willingness to face your problems and work through them. It is also allowing someone to accompany you for part of your journey and support you with the work.
Its ok to say if things aren’t working: The last of my revelations was that I was allowed to take an active role in my treatment. The pain relief I had been given initially had taken some of the edge off the pain. However, as the gap between high pain episodes became shorter, it became less effective. I once again had to battle my negative thoughts, which were telling me I was not allowed to mention it or that there was probably nothing they could do. After building up the courage, I explained the situation to the nurse. She thanked me and went to talk to the doctor. I was then given something stronger, which allowed me to have the much needed nap I mentioned earlier.
Counselling is an activity that a person choses to take part in, and is not done to anyone. It is really important that clients seeing a counsellor feel free to take an active role. That means that if there is something in sessions which makes them uncomfortable, they let the counsellor know. If a strategy has been suggested that is not useful or is making things worse, then it can be stopped. If there is a model or explanation that is not understood properly, it is brilliant to say so. Doctors and nurses don’t know how to treat patients without asking lots of questions or doing tests. If medication is given which causes a rash, then if the doctor knows, they can find an alternative. Counsellors require feedback in the same way. For example, if there is a great looking colouring book on their shelf that you’d like to look at, as it might help you relax and be able to talk more, then mention it. If you find writing a diary of your thoughts every week boring and taxing, but would rather do a drawing of what your week was like, then do it. Whatever it is, the process needs to work for you.
I hope that drawing some parallels between a medical scenario and the counselling process has shown that seeking help for mental health issues is a good thing. There is a range of help available. Your GP (or mental health lead at a surgery) will be able to signpost you to sources of support. Alternatively, check out the links below or check the “useful links” page on the website https://www.brightbeaconcounselling.co.uk/useful-links/
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