Regular readers will know I have recently started attending an Art Therapy class on a Monday afternoon. For the past two weeks, I’ve made the effort to go along and engage with other people with similar problems to myself. What’s the verdict…? Overall, I’m enjoying it. It’s a small class, so not too much of an ordeal. The tutor is lovely, genuinely interested in us students and encouraging us to play to our strengths. One of the CMHT Occupational Therapists drops in to ensure we’re all ok and she, too, is friendly. She speaks to everyone in the class individually and is also interested in what we’re working on. The first time I went, I met a girl who has Aspergers, which was odd because I’m currently undergoing testing for the same condition.
But I’m beginning to wonder it I feel too safe in this class, too comfortable amongst these people who don’t look me up and down when I walk into the room, who don’t pass judgement, who accept me for who I am and everything that comes with me. I feel a sense of belonging I don’t get anywhere else, not even in my own home. The result is that I leave feeling a bit fragile, frightened and alone. I have to re-join the ‘real world’ with it’s noisy roads and busy streets, it’s people who don’t understand and who have seemingly unachievable expectations of me.
What if there comes a time when I’m abandoned, left to stand on my own two feet, discharged from MH Services and expected to get a job…? What then? I dread that day more than I dread anything else in the world. I’m not strong enough…I won’t survive, I just know it.