Today was such a long day. I woke up thinking that at least it was Friday and that would mean one less week so I can finish the surgery rotation.
Fact is, I really don’t like surgery. It’s just not for me, which is yet another reason for which I’ve pushed ophthalmology to the very back of my mind. I find it so boring. Plus, for some reason I can’t deal with all the plastic, paper, and other materials that go directly to the trash once a surgery is over…all for the sake of sterility. It’s quite funny actually, because I almost fell asleep during one of today’s surgeries. I mean, seriously, who falls asleep during a surgery?
I also had to deal with an attending who was a complete asshole. I avoided going into his surgeries at all costs but then had to deal with him in the outpatient surgery clinics. Needless to say I was desperate to just get out of his way. Seriously, I hadn’t yet met an asshole quite like him. I just don’t understand why surgery attracts these assholes.
I had my appointment with M on Wednesday. We talked about a lot of things and at the end of the session I almost cried. I told her how the crush on the resident was over and how I’m back to psychiatry as my career path. She was quick to point out the fact that I am always attracted to unavailable men. She mentioned it could have to do with my low self-esteem and that maybe deep down I think I don’t deserve a real relationship. This could be why I gravitate unconsciously toward unavailable men. I’ll have to read her some of the posts I’ve written here, how “landing” an unavailable man is like an addiction to me, a mere game.
I was having a lot of trouble opening up to her during this session because I kept thinking about her leaving in August. It’s been a real problem lately. Whenever I see her all I can manage to think about is her leaving and me being handed over to a new person who might not be as great as she is. I told her this, and I was near to tears.
Sometimes I wish M would be more open herself during our sessions. Not that I want to know her life’s intimacies, because that’s just ridiculous, but I just wish she were less formal sometimes and not put up such a tall wall of non-disclosure. I mention that because to me she is everything. To me she is a friend, a confidante, a sister, a role model. So, it is very difficult for me to grasp the concept of her leaving. Sometimes I wish I knew what she is thinking and I stop to wonder whether I’m as special to her as she is to me…whether she will miss me just like I will miss her. And it hurts to think that I will never know, that what she thinks of me could go both ways: good…or bad.
At the same time I understand why she has to put up that wall of non-disclosure. First off, to protect herself, but more importantly to protect me. If she were to bring down that wall then it could be potentially catastrophic, probably turning into a dependent relationship…defeating the purpose of therapy.
But to the child-me it still hurts…no matter how much I rationalize it.
During the appointment we also discussed my struggles with my body. I explained to her that my irrational way of seeing things is: if I’m not the pretty one, then at least I’ll be the skinny one. Being skinny always distinguished me from other girls. I don’t have that anymore.
So I told her all about my plan….how I would begin to do exercise and watch what I’m eating so I can get my body back. She was ok with my wanting to do exercise, as it’s good for my mood, but she was very cautious about the watching what I eat part. You want to know what I think? I don’t care what she thinks….I want to see my clavicles again.
And I began a small exercise routine yesterday. It’s incredible how out of shape I am. It’s ridiculously embarrassing for me to admit here that all I can manage to do for now is 30 minutes of random exercises in my room. I don’t know how it got to this point. Scratch that. I do know how it got to this point: I stopped taking dance classes and I started eating shit…then the surgery rotation came around with all its junk food and sedentary lifestyle. I let myself go, and now I have the stretch marks to remind me of that mistake every goddamn day.
So, getting back to the appointment…it went well. However, as is custom lately, I felt there were a lot of things left unsaid.
I just wish I could be as open on the therapy sessions as I am here. Thanks for reading my ramblings.