I saw the new psychiatrist on Thursday for our second appointment. I think she’s well on her way to earning her “letter” in this blog (like M and G). Funny thing is, the appointment left me feeling down.
It went well. I can’t say it didn’t. But since she’s still getting to know me, and I’m still getting to know her, it left me feeling frustrated in the end. I went blank a few times during the appointment because I just didn’t know what to say to her, or where to begin. At least she didn’t pressure me. Quite the contrary, I was the one pressuring myself because I didn’t want to waste her time….as usual.
We talked about a few different things, like relationships with my mom and dad and how complicated they are. Eventually, I ended up talking about my struggles with food. And I feel like an idiot for having done that.
The problem is I’ve been focusing so much on food lately, it’s ridiculous. It’s constantly in my mind: how to avoid it, what to eat, when to eat, whether I’m eating too much, how much I weigh…etc. I didn’t really want to talk to her or G about it because I knew it would be a definite game changer, but by the time my appointment with her arrived, I was desperate to just talk about exactly what’s been going on inside my head. And I don’t like to lie, I’m a terrible liar.
You see, I’m on Wellbutrin (bupropion). Wellbutrin is contraindicated in people with eating disorders because it decreases the seizure threshold. I’m not saying that I’m eating disordered, but I know I’m not exactly healthy about food. I told her about this on the first appointment. But then when I saw her again this week, I was more specific and giving details about my food habits, symptoms I’m having, etc. I knew she was going to want to reevaluate my medication after hearing all that, but I told her nonetheless. Because I’m stupid. Because I simply wanted to talk to someone.
And, evidently, once time was up, she told me she would be reevaluating my medication. And I freaked out. She noticed I freaked out. I freaked out so much, that on my way back home I started crying, and I cried some more later in the day.
Thing is, Wellbutrin has been good for me. I still feel depressed, but it’s not a huge impairment in general. It’s also given me energy, which is something I desperately needed, considering I sleep too much when on a very low mood. And finally, I’m sure the weight I’ve lost is in part because a potential side effect of Wellbutrin is weight loss. And really, the main reason I don’t want a medication change is that last one. To me, medication change equals “you’ll get really fat now”.
So, I don’t know what’s going to happen two weeks from now when I see her again. I doubt I’ll be able to avoid her changing my medication, unless my weight stabilizes (which probably isn’t going to happen). Sometimes I think I’d rather risk the grand mal seizure. I’m so self-destructive. That’s how twisted my mind is: I’d rather die than live “fat”…..
Another thing we talked about, and that I also eventually cried because of it, was my lack of romantic relationships. At one point she asked me: “Have you had any relationships after The Ex?”
What an uncomfortable question. It was the same thing when G asked months ago. I said: “No, haven’t had any.” She said: “And how does that make you feel?” What I thought: Like a fucking failure piece of shit ugly-ass moron. What I actually said: “Frustrated, angry, sad. Sometimes I think I should just focus on myself first and then consider a relationship, but other times it gets to me. I try not to think about it. But it’s kind of sad that I’m in my twenties and I don’t even know what a first date is.”
And I think it was because of that moment in my session with her, that I had the strangest dream that night. I dreamed I was back in high school and I was dating a boy who in real life I had a crush on for a long time. In the dream we were a couple, we kissed, we hugged, there was a lot of love, tenderness, and affection. In real life, this boy treated me as a friend, but then out of nowhere started treating me like shit and bullying me, and then when I got involved with The Ex, the bullying got worse. It hurt, a lot. Because I liked him, a lot. And even being with The Ex I still had this ridiculous hope that someday he would confess he actually liked me all this time. Obviously, that never happened.
Nowadays, this “boy” is engaged. I’m not interested in him anymore, I gave up on that shortly after graduating high school. But what hurts is that I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he would have actually liked me and we would have dated, or something. I think if that would have happened, then I probably would have never gotten involved with The Ex. And things would have played out completely different than what they are like now.
So, when I woke up from that dream the next day, I was so angry. And sad. I cried.
It was just a dream. This is real life. Trying to destroy myself via any means I can find, like (a lack of) food and negative self-talk. Not knowing what love is, only knowing what being taken advantage of is. It’s my life.
I don’t like it. But it’s all I’ve ever known.