100 Hours

One hundred hours.

When somebody first said that number to me, it felt enormous.

So I came up with a simple idea.

For every placement hour I completed, I’d put £1 in a jar.

Not because I was trying to save money.

Because I needed to see that I was getting somewhere.

Then placement started.

Or at least, it was supposed to.

Clients were being allocated to me.

The problem was they weren’t actually turning up.

The service had to give each referral a chance before reallocating them, so for three weeks I sat looking at an empty chair, wondering whether I’d ever get started.

By the fourth week I still hadn’t seen anyone.

By the fifth, I genuinely began to wonder whether I’d end up being held back a year because I simply wouldn’t reach my hours.

Meanwhile, I’d been given all the equipment that made me feel like a proper counsellor.

A tablet I barely knew how to use.

A folder bursting with forms.

Consent forms.

Session notes.

Assessments.

Policies.

Right at the back sat the risk assessment paperwork.

I remember hoping I’d never need it.

Not because it wasn’t important.

But because I hadn’t yet realised that counselling isn’t something you learn from a folder.

You learn it by sitting with another human being.

Eventually the clients came.

One hour became ten.

Ten became fifty.

Fifty somehow became one hundred.

And when I finally qualified, I was so relieved that I completely forgot about the jar.

Months later I found it tucked away.

One hundred pounds.

Exactly where I’d left it.

It made me smile.

The money had never been the point.

The jar had simply reminded me that even when it felt as though nothing was happening, I was still moving forwards.

Sometimes the biggest challenge in counselling training isn’t learning the theory.

It’s trusting that your journey has already begun, even when the chair in front of you is still empty.