My 2 previous posts were pretty random. My mind is all over the place, as usual. I think the denial of having M leaving in 2 weeks (!!!) is keeping me in a sort of trance-like state. So, I’m really sorry if I come across as cold or distant.
This week has been pretty interesting. My emotions, just as they have been lately, went from one extreme to another constantly. But I guess the positive side to it is that I only feel seriously depressed moments at a time. It’s not constant anymore, thankfully.
On Tuesday I saw M. I wasted her time, honestly. I was completely blocked, in denial of her leaving, and acting like an idiot. I told her my bottled up emotions will probably explode when she leaves, when it’s too late. She said that’s exactly what we want to avoid. And for some reason I can’t recall, at that point she asked me what therapy means to me.
I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t thinking, at all. I honestly don’t know where my mind was during those 45 minutes with her. I wasn’t able to answer that question until the next day, after having an “almost-argument” with mom that left me crying like a baby and being consoled by MM.
What does therapy mean to me? A time to receive and feel things that my mom (and other people) have not given me in my short life (for whatever reason) or that I haven’t allowed myself to feel. Obviously, with the goal of replicating that in the “real” world.
But then I thought about what therapy with M means to me. And it means: a time to interact with the person that I have inevitably ended up seeing as a mother figure. The things that my mom did not give me or that I didn’t know I was missing in life are supplied by M during therapy. She patches up the holes, basically.
And the reason I couldn’t say this to M on Tuesday was because I didn’t want to accept it and was afraid of how she’d react. About a month after I started seeing her in 2012 I broke down crying and told her I didn’t want to become attached to her. But at that time I didn’t know myself enough to understand why I didn’t want to become attached to her. Now I know it’s because I didn’t want to get abandoned and so I didn’t want to trust her. I tried to avoid getting attached these two years, but in the end I failed.
Anyways, the funny part is that when I saw G on Wednesday and told her about the “pregnant-M dream” she agreed with me, saying that M is the mother figure that provides the things my own mother didn’t give me. It was creepy having her repeat exactly what I had thought without my saying it. Am I really that easy to figure out?
During both sessions with M and G, I felt like crying at some point (especially with G). But I didn’t allow myself to cry. I hate it when I do that. I should’ve just allowed myself to bawl my eyes out in front of them. Maybe then it will get through my thick head that I’m not exactly ok.
I think my problem these past few days has been precisely that I’m not allowing myself to just feel. So, it all spills out as anger and sometimes random bouts of crying. What’s the problem with feeling, really? I don’t know. I guess I just can’t stand how extreme my emotions can be, so in the end I mute them. It’s all really black or white, all or none. *sigh*
So, yeah, my last appointment with M is on the 15th of August. Fuck my life. And I have yet to find a new psychiatrist. Double fuck my life. At least I have G. But that doesn’t give me much comfort (yet).
On a lighter note, I recently came to the conclusion that I really do like medicine. I like medical school, I like pretending to be a doctor, I really do like it more than I thought I did. I’m just so damn insecure that it clouds my judgement. Of course, this is all subject to my random bouts of black and white thinking, so maybe in my next post I’ll be saying I hate medicine (but I’m pretty confident this time around that that won’t be the case).
I’m still kind of wobbly on the whole “deciding to be a psychiatrist or not” issue. Again, my insecurities get in the way. But it’s really the specialty I like the most and find most fascinating.
Oh, and finally, I decided to write that email to the psychiatry professor at my school to do research with her (with the help of MM). I’ll post more on that later on, but the point is that I might start to work on psychiatry research soon-ish. (I have to admit I’m excited deep down, but for some reason none of that is showing today.)
Ah! And finally finally, I’m trying to paint almost every day. But nothing good has come out. Yet.
Finally finally finally (yikes) I reached my initial “goal weight” yesterday. I have mixed feelings. More on that later.
I’ll keep you posted.