Today was an interesting day.
It began with an awesome appointment with G. I forgot a lot of what we talked about, but it was good times. And that helps.
One of the first things she said to me when I went in her office was how I looked thinner. All I said was: “Well, when I met you this dress didn’t fit me, and now it fits again.”
And since we were on the topic of weight, I told her about the appointment with the new psychiatrist last week and how I regret telling her about my issues with weight, and also about that dream I had. I told her about the Wellbutrin, and how the psychiatrist is considering changing it. About how I obviously knew the psychiatrist would want to change my medication because I knew it’s side effects.
She asked me: “Now that you’ve lost weight, would you be willing to stay at the weight you are now?” I didn’t answer, didn’t know what to say. I just looked around the office trying to find some words. And she said: “That’s the problem.”
Yeah, I know that’s the problem. I told her that nowadays it’s not so much about losing weight, but more about not gaining weight. But I just keep losing…because of my bad habits, my non-existent self-esteem, and my weird relationship with food. It’s so damn complicated, it’s like I don’t even care anymore. So she asked me to write down everything that has to do with food and weight, my thoughts, and why this situation began in the first place. We’ll be discussing that next week, and she said flat out that it will be a difficult session. I know.
We talked about so many other things, about married men, and whether I’ve been thinking about The Ex (which, I’m glad to say, I’ve been managing very well these last few days). We ended up talking about the practical exam re-take I have next Monday (*panic setting in*), and her own experiences when she was doing her PsyD, with tests, patients, and such.
At one point she said: “You’re going to pass that test.” She said it with so much conviction, and sounded so genuine and like she believed in me….I was suddenly overcome by this incredible strength and self-esteem. I told her this.
I realized later that I laughed a lot and shared a few smiles with her today. And I liked it. A lot. I like that we’re bonding more and more each week and that I feel comfortable with her. She’s an awesome psychologist, I have to say, and I’m glad I was referred to her.
But anyway, the day continued…and finally I had my dance class. I had barely eaten the whole day, and wanted to grab something to eat before going to class, but I completely forgot. Oh my, that was a huge mistake.
Halfway through the class I started feeling absolutely exhausted and weak. I’ve never in my life fainted, and at one point I thought I was going to. I panicked because I felt if I fainted right then and there, my family would somehow learn about my issues with food (aside from the fact that it would be terribly embarrassing). But I worked my way through, except in the end when I just gave up and simply walked through the last exercises. There was just no energy left in me, and my teacher noticed.
I was so goddamn frustrated. I was angry at myself. How could I do this to myself?! How could I deprive myself of the one thing that will give me the physical energy to actually enjoy and live my dance class?!
But there was no answer to those questions. Instead, I drove back home almost dehydrated, with slight hearing loss, weak, barely moving my lips to the song I was listening to on the radio and crossing my fingers so that I didn’t suddenly faint and crash. At home I had a full dinner, but I had to pace myself eating because it was just too much to bear.
And even after that incident, I still have no answer to G’s question. Rationally, I know I should stay where I am weight-wise, strike a compromise with her and the new psychiatrist (and with my irrational thoughts too). Plus, I’m back to what I’ve always weighed for years and years. So, why not stop now? But there’s that little voice in my head that says: You can’t trust your body to stay where it is right now. You’ll get really fat again if you stop controlling and restricting.
I’m starting to think this is my alternate form of self-harm. M used to tell me that when things were relatively OK with me, I would focus on my weight, because my irrational mind thinks I can never be just OK. I never gave it much thought, but dammit, as usual, she was right. Always self-destructive. Always thinking of ways to exterminate myself.
But I have one thing to hold on to, at least. And it has nothing to do with my weight. The day ended on a low note, but I still remember the smiles I shared with G and her words: You’re going to pass that test.
You’re going to pass that test.
You’re going to pass that test.
Don’t think about your weight.
PS: I’ll try to post these next few days but I might disappear until Monday. I have to confess I’ve wasted a lot of time and thus have a lot of studying to do. Needless to say, I’m panicking. But….I’m going to pass that test.