This is going to be a long one. Brace yourselves.
I’ve had a few important things happen these past two weeks. There was that double epiphany I had with M (I might post about the second one this week. It’s pretty important.). There’s the process of closure/termination that’s happening with M and all the important things we’ve discussed lately. Also, the past two appointments with G have been pretty good. I’ve also had some important conversations with MM. Apparently, I finally decided for the 100th time that medicine is my thing (and that probably psychiatry is “it”). I will be working in research soon. Still looking for a new psychiatrist. Been taking the time to paint most days. Finally, I reached my initial goal weight a few days ago.
In spite of all that, I feel pretty numb. I have a few sparks of emotion fly at random moments, but most of the time I feel as alive as a cardboard box (especially this past week). Unfortunately, the sparks of emotion are usually when I’m experiencing negative emotions, like anger. I think I’m in a state of emotional shock, or something.
Anyways, like I said in my previous post, I finally realized (and accepted) why therapy with M is so important to me, and why her leaving is affecting me so much. I fear not being able to create that genuine bond with G and the new psychiatrist (whoever that may be). I’m just…afraid. That’s what it all boils down to: fear.
I’m still looking for a new psychiatrist. I still have three candidates from the list M gave me originally. Unfortunately, none of them accept my insurance. My dad is willing to cover the expense. He says he does anything for my health. But it pisses me off and makes me feel so guilty. I just wish I didn’t have to depend on my parents to pay my bills. Makes me feel utterly useless and like some nasty leech.
But the point is, that I’m trying to keep myself to those three candidates for now simply because I trust M’s judgement. She says those are the best she can recommend to work with me, and I think it’s way better than shopping among random people who accept my insurance. I trust her, but I’m afraid of the expense. So, I really hope she’s right.
However, the problem is this: those 3 candidates are 2 women and 1 man, and it’s very possible I’m going to have to choose the male psychiatrist. Like I explained in this post, I have a weird relationship with men who are older than me. I don’t want to end up with the male psychiatrist because with older men I go into what I call “Lolita-mode” and start acting in very subtly seductive ways. I know, it sounds dirty and wrong (and it’s pretty difficult for me to admit this in public). I really don’t know why I do this. I have yet to initiate the topic in therapy. But the point is this: I’ll be alone in a room with a man, talking about personal stuff. I don’t trust myself to not go into “Lolita-mode” and it reminds me too much of how things started developing between me and my Ex (who was, of course, an older man).
But whatever. I’ll make sure to discuss my concerns with G in case I have to choose the male psychiatrist. I need some insight on the issue, and I’m really sick of acting that way with older men. It needs to stop.
Research. I have a lot of research experience. Specifically in psychiatry. I have to accept I like it. That’s why I emailed that psychiatry professor this week. That is, after having MM cheer for me for about an hour and finally convince me to write her. She answered and said that of course I could work with her. I’m supposed to meet up with her one of these days to discuss what I can work in.
I’m excited. But I’m even more excited at the prospect of having something that I can call “work”. As you know, I’ve been struggling with that feeling of uselessness during the leave of absence until now. Hopefully, research will help calm down those feelings. In addition, it was in my initial plan of things to do during the leave of absence that would help raise my self-esteem. I don’t know. We’ll see what happens.
Painting. I’ve been forcing myself to paint most days lately. The reality is that I’m out of practice and mostly uninspired. I’ve been practicing so much because I’m working on a little project. I’ll be posting about that sometime soon, I don’t want to spoil the idea/surprise. That is, if things turn out the way I want them to. Anyways, it’s been helping me relax I guess.
Weight. Fucking weight. When I got out of hospital I could only fantasize about reaching the weight I reached 3 days ago. I’ve probably gained 2-3lbs. those past 3 days because I’ve behaved like a cow. However, the number I saw on the scale on Thursday is engraved in my memory. The problem is…I still feel disgusting.
I was very aware of the fact that this would happen. However, I still had some false hope that I would feel great about my body. I don’t feel absolutely terrible about it like I did back in April, but I keep thinking “if I reached this weight, why do I have to stop now?”. Sometimes I have fleeting thoughts of “I look acceptable”, but 98% of the time I think I look disgusting.
So, I had a decision to make: do I stop now or keep going? I think you can tell which one I chose.
You see, I have this twisted thought that if I’m not the pretty one then at least I’m the skinny one. Since I was a kid, I’ve held onto my low weight as a thing that defines me and gives me identity when my looks were not special in any way.
I’ve had many moments of “danger” before, when I thought I would lose my skinny-ness and thus, lose my identity and become an average ugly girl/woman. I think the first time I thought I was fat was maybe around 8-9 years old. Back then it was because I was beginning puberty and my best friend was still a tiny little kid, while I was gaining weight. After that, the thoughts became even more consolidated in my mind around 12 years old when MM started losing a lot of weight and I became afraid that I would stop being “the skinny one” in the family. Most recently, I became terribly triggered right before being hospitalized, when my childhood friend came to visit me and commented on my “ass” and how I looked fuller. At that moment, just like when I was 8-9 years old, I became afraid that she would somehow steal my “skinny” crown.
In addition to that, I’ve also had a funky relationship with food and my body because of my dad’s obesity. It has always made me angry that he has never been too serious about losing weight and leading a more healthy lifestyle food-wise. Mainly, this is because I am afraid of losing him at a young age due to his obesity. I am terribly afraid of not having him see me graduate medical school or become an independent adult, something I want to share with him. And of course, he’s my dad and I love him and don’t want to lose him.
In reaction to all this, ever since I can remember, I’ve had an internal battle between eating all the unhealthy stuff at home and feeling fat just so he won’t eat it, or remaining skinny and letting him eat what he wants…potentially losing him to his unhealthy ways. I have a whole other set of things I do so as to avoid having him eat in excess, like not eating when he’s in the kitchen, or standing up from the dinner table when he’s not paying attention to avoid having him eat my leftovers.
I knew I thought all these things and did all these things, I just hadn’t formally pieced them together in my head until now. So, in a nutshell, that’s why I have a funky relationship with food and my weight. Lately, the way this has been reflecting in me is by feeling utter disgust and strangely nauseous when I’m full.
Finally, I think that’s mainly what’s been inside my head lately, in addition to my previous posts. I don’t know if I explained myself very well. I hope so. The point I’m trying to make in the end is this: there’s a mess inside my head right now.
But my emotions are pretty much nowhere to be found. And it scares me, because that’s never good….because I know sooner than later they’ll explode.
PS: It’s really late! I”ll be responding to your comments tomorrow. Sorry for the delay!