This week I started group therapy. Weird, but quite nice. I’d been dreading it for a while, fearing the other people, being afraid of their reactions, their judgement. Even though I knew they were all there for the same reasons as me, I still feared that they would laugh. Or roll their eyes. Or make comments. Or ignore me.

As it turned out, my dread and anxiety were somewhat wasted – I needn’t worry, as I was welcomed into the group, treated with respect and listened to. The other members of the group gave me attention, and were, of course, a bit curious about me. I introduced myself, they asked questions, but I felt no pressure to answer everything.

Then, the other seven people in the group introduced themselves – why they were there, how long they had been in the group, their first name and age. I was allowed to ask questions or make comments – as were the rest of the group. I recognized myself in some of the others, but not all of them. Not everyone suffers the same ailments, and I view that as a good thing – you get spontaneus reactions from people with a different view on life, a different set of experiences, a different world. 

The group I’m in consists of eight patients, varying in age and sex, social status, some with children, some without, some gay, some straight, some alcoholics, some who doesn’t drink. It’s also not allowed to have relationships outside of the group, no going out for coffee, calling one another or even talking on the streets. Also a good thing, as we are all equals – no two people being friends outside the group, knowing more about one another than the rest of us. It’s also a requirement to stay in the group for at least a year and a half, and we all have to be there every week, being ill is no excuse not to come. 

So, I find that I like group therapy, and that I’m looking forwards to next week.