I’d been feeling quite drained, possibly due to the antibiotics causing poor sleep and headaches, possibly due to just overdoing things, so I took the day off.

I treated myself to a professional head shave and beard trim (including nostril waxing). Followed by a light lunch. After which I was shattered …

… and spent the afternoon napping!

A waste of a day?

Maybe, but it was what I seemed to need.

I woke ten minutes before my counsellor, Richard, was due to arrive so I was less than composed when he got here. It had been a month since my last session, so my brain dump began immediately after the warm hug he always greets me with.

The first part of the session was about relationships: understanding my relationship needs, talking about attachment styles – I’m reading a book titled “Polysecure” to help me understand polyamorous relationships as I seem to be in a poly-relationship with Funiculosus and his husband. Funiculosus is my Rope Master Dom; ours is a somewhat intimate relationship.

Learning a little about my preferred style (secure) and how it adapted to be with my husband (I became avoidant to cope with his anxious style) helps me understand our places on the drama triangle. Understanding that dynamic helps me to make choices, such as –

That night I was asked by my husband to go and talk to him about his anxieties around secrets … and how I managed to ask him whether he was saying what he needed you say because we both have limited emotional resources.

Richard laughed when I told him, in that wonderful open throw-his head-back way: he says that he was proud of me for putting into practice what we’d talked about – and in such a kind way.

I said that the proof would be in being able to keep doing it. He thinks that I’ll be ok.

Halfway through the session I switched to talking about the increasing anxiety that I’m getting about heart. It’s not unreasonable, it’s very common after suffering from an event such as a heart attack.

There have been a few times recently where I’ve had strange bodily sensations and have become worried.

I said that it’s as though my body and brain, having lost it’s old locus of anxiety (ie my husband) decided that I needed something else to be anxious about.

The difference really is that this is a short term problem. I might never get back quite what I had before the heart attack, but I will be able eventually to go back to life.

Then I found my anger.

“It’s not fair!” I mock-wailed, knowing that the feeling, whilst understandable, wasn’t particularly useful. I ate mostly sensibly – lots of fruit and veg, not too much meat. A weakness for cake.

Worst of all, my old way of letting off steam and discharging my anxiety – to go for a run – is unavailable to me at the moment.

Also, I am enjoying food just as much as ever … as attested to by my slowly expanding waistline.

Of course Richard got it. He pointed out how far I’d come since August, when I was exhausted going up the stairs or doing the shopping.

I have to turn the focus back onto what I have achieved and accept where I am now.

Positivity is essential for my wellbeing.

After Richard left, I fed and walked the dog. While I was out, I felt most peculiar. My heart started racing, I felt something in my chest, I felt light-headed.

“Am I having another heart attack?” I wondered.

I got home as quickly as I could, finding myself drawn to sweet food.

Three chocolate biscuits and a caramel wafer later and I’m fine.

I do find distinguishing between emotions difficult sometimes – it seems that now I cannot tell the difference between a heart attack and hunger.