Published on 12, July, 2020
I run a weekly Pathfinder game. We have a fairly solid online group. Today's session, the party investigates an abandoned alchemical worskshop after strange gas leaks have triggered outbursts of aggression in the local populace. The party finds a rail track leading underground, to a greater alchemical workshop that is very much up and running, operated by ratfolk. The party confronts the ratfolk, demanding to speak to their leader. The ratfolk pretend to acquiesce, but the party realises they've been misled when a giant hulking brute of a ratfolk with a blade for an arm emerges from a passageway and charges at them. End of session.
Everyone had a good time. They're looking forward to a fun, challenging combat next week. Then one by one each of them leaves the call. Until I find myself here, alone, at 1am. The moment that last person left the call, all that good feeling vanished and I found myself stuck with a crushing loneliness. I don't like being alone. But I only like being around one person at a time really, and I can't just latch on to another person like a security blanket. It's not fair to them, and it's not good for me.
I'm in therapy. Session six is tomorrow. I'm hoping we're past the stage of the therapist learning about me, and we can finally start making some progress. But last week the thing she wanted me to focus on was thinking about how I could be more compassionate with myself. After a full week of thinking on it, I can't say I'm any closer to knowing how I could do that. I just... don't like being me.
I'll ask you a question I used to ask many of my counselling clients when they were guilt tripping themselves about not being able to cope, 'what would you say to someone else if they came to you and told you the same story as you've just told me?', They were invariably much kinder to that imaginary other than they were being to themselves, so I'd ask them why they shouldn't have the same understanding for themselves as they gave to others?