Almost a year on from my last post and I am pleased to say I made it through my first year of the counselling course! Year Two is now fast approaching and filling me with excitement but also dread, in equal measure. After being recently signed off as ‘fit to practice’ by my tutor, this means I’m ready to start looking for a placement; working with real clients and jumping straight in at the deep end.

Many thoughts have arisen from this: am I capable? What if I get something wrong? What if I feel anxious? And I am trying so hard to face this next challenge with curiosity and compassion. Reminding myself to view it as another opportunity to hold space for people when they need it most, and feeling very lucky that I get to do that.

This year hasn’t been an easy one: filled with loss of many kinds, uncertainty, questioning myself and my future tenfold. However, I am nearly a year into work with my new therapist; a deeper bond is being built, we have made such great progress together and I am so grateful for her. I feel like I am slowly beginning to process the trauma of 2025, even though I am fully aware that it will be an ongoing, lifelong journey with plenty of mistakes along the way.

I have always been a reflective person, given my job, but having my own therapy and doing the counselling training has deepened that to a new level. I also feel that after such a monumental loss, it has made that reflection more profound and every experience hits differently now, and will forevermore. I have so many life experiences to have yet that my Dad will not get to see: marriage, children, becoming an accredited therapist. But I am learning to hold him in my heart alongside all of these experiences and think about what he would say to me if he was here. It’s not an easy thing for me to do, as I still find it incredibly difficult to push past the pain and intense feelings of wanting to avoid, numb and disconnect.

As always, I’m waffling and I don’t have a clear plan on what I wanted to write about today, but I haven’t had the desire to write for such a long time (I can thank assignments for that) and so I’m grasping it with two hands.

I am currently on holiday in Rhodes with Aleks and spending my days lounging by the pool, reading, and ruining, actual books (I left my kindle on the plane and it is still a very sore subject). It feels so nice to switch off, have a laugh with my friend and sleep in a room with aircon.

Today, we went on a boat trip to visit the caves and swim in the sea. Anyone who knows me will know that I am petrified of the sea; despite having swimming lessons as a child, it’s easier just saying I can’t swim because I genuinely lose all survival instincts when I’m in water deeper than 1.5m.

Ever since we booked the trip, I had a ball of anxiety in my tummy, overthinking all manner of things, creating scenarios in my head and making a mountain out of a molehill. Which is exactly what anxiety, and ‘Ben’, does. However, unluckily for him, I have become quite adept at telling him to do one and feel the fear and do it anyway. Except for motorway driving, but that’s the next hurdle!

So this morning I woke up: feeling sick, feeling anxious but trying my hardest to ignore it. We walked down to the harbour and waited to board the boat. My legs like jelly the entire time, picturing the boat capsizing or me falling over the edge and being lost at sea. Dramatic, I know. Aleks literally had to promise me she would rescue me if any of those things happened.

But this is what ‘Ben’ does: he takes those fun, exciting experiences and tries to protect me from them. In his own weird, warped little way. He tells me all the things that could go wrong, even if the possibility is minuscule, and wants me to avoid them because it’s ‘safer’ that way. For years that’s exactly what I did and it near enough ruined my life. I’ve been working hard for the last decade to regain some control back, and for the most part, Ben is non existent in my day-to-day life.

So as a big f*ck you to Ben, I got in the sea and swam my little heart out. Yes, I wore a life jacket, because I do actually like my life and don’t want to drown. But it was pretty monumental for me to even get in, so gotta allow me that tiny semblance of control over the situation. And whilst I sat on the paddle board whilst Aleks manoeuvred us towards the cave, I felt elated and thought about twenty-one year old Sarah. The one who couldn’t even go into a shop alone, couldn’t go out for meals, couldn’t get through one day without a panic attack. And I just felt so grateful to her for not letting Ben ruin her life anymore.