Wednesday, 28 September 2016
I also happen to think we need all the different parts of ourselves in order to function properly. Whatever. Because so many different things matter to me right now, I’m finding there’s a lot going on in the theatre of my life with lots of ‘characters’ all jostling for space at the podium.
This is possibly not the best way to introduce the fact that, as well as writing novels and memoirs, ghosting for others, editing dissertations for overseas students, facilitating workshops and so on, I have recently returned to my old counselling business. This is an incredibly exciting development for me. Last week I reread the text which made me fall in love with person-centred counselling all those years ago (nearly 20), Person-Centred Counselling in Action, by my old professor, Dave Mearns, and his colleague, Brian Thorne.
I had also decided to return to my earlier name of Sue Reid in order to keep Sue Reid the counsellor distinct and untainted by the madness that is Sue Reid Sexton, but those social media gremlins that rule the world now are having none of it. Therefore, I come clean: they are one and the same.
Except they’re not. It turns out they’re similar but quite distinct parts of me. For each to function fully they have needs which have to be met. They occupy different but similar spaces in my head. I am each one completely when I am actively functioning as either one or the other, such as tapping the laptop keys or engaging with a counselling client. Clients can rest assured that they have my full attention when I’m with them. With writing I’m in more danger or wandering off piste. It’s when I’m not doing either of those things that the confusion, and even discomfort, starts.
If I’m writing a novel, sometimes characters, situations and sentences float through my mind when I’m doing other things. If something interesting crops up, I jot it down in a notebook and continue with the washing up, still mulling. It’s a bit like sleeping on a problem. The work is going on even when I’m not consciously focussing on it. Likewise, the stories people tell in counselling often linger too. My mind wanders back to them in the days between sessions. Another counsellor once described it as people inadvertently ‘taking up residence in your house of counselling’. You can see how between these two very important activities, counselling and writing, there are a lot of ‘people’ milling about, many needing the attention of a counsellor, others of a writer. The distinction between the two is absolute, but I have only one brain.
While this is slightly overwhelming, it’s also interesting and stimulating. I’m hoping the various parts of my psyche, writer, counsellor, mother, facilitator, driver, editor and beachcomber, for instance, will sit down together and offer each other food for thought.
For more information on counselling click here.