I had seen a lot stuff by the time I was fourteen. Two alcoholic parents meant I had lived in more rehab centres than I could remember. I’d been in foster care, lived with relatives I barely knew and been separated from my sisters. Before my 14th birthday, I had been to seventeen schools and lived in countless houses.
At an age when many other kids are stressing mainly about braces and homework, I had seen my dad passed out in his own vomit, cried as I poured my mum’s wine down the sink and woken up to an empty house way too many times.
And through it all, I went to school.
The day after my mum left us alone, I went to school.
The day after my dad died, I went to school.
The day after I found out I would never be living with my sisters again, I went to school.
I went to school, because it was one of the only places I felt in control. Through everything, school was a constant for me. A safe place. I loved the routine and the order. I loved that no matter how many different schools you went to, there was always recess and lunch and assembly and sport. I loved the adults who weren’t drunk and didn’t give me a sick feeling in my stomach.
School saved me, and the hero at the helm of that rescue mission was always the school counsellor. It didn’t matter whether I was talking about my dad’s suicide or how mean Melissa had been to me in Food Tech. They were the adults who made me feel like adults could be trusted. And that was something I desperately needed in life.
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I did go to a councellor at one point. Well, more so the councellor came to me. It was an issue with some of my friends that I had apparently been witness to. I can't recall a lot from that meeting besides her dragging me away from lunch time and me sitting uncomfortably in the ugly-leather-doctory-waiting chair awkwardly eating my egg and lettuce sandwich while she forced me to answer questions with my mouth full. Besides that school was pretty mainstream to be honest.
I saw a counsellor in year 10 due to bullying issues. I was ostracised even more when the bullies found out I was seeing her. Privacy is a big deal to a child in distress needs. They need to know they can be honest and open without being judged. Anything that happens during counselling sessions should only be between the counsellor and the patient.