My first interview day yesterday went well. I think. I made some dumbass mistakes, but unfortunately I can’t turn back time.
I was really impressed with the program. It was a pleasant surprise. Everyone was so nice; the residents, the administrative staff, the faculty I met, and even the other interviewees. Everyone was very down-to-earth and welcoming. The only weakness I can think off the top of my head is the city the program is in.
So, during the first interview I was really nervous and the third interview was kind of unpleasant because it started off with “So, do you have any questions for me?”. The second interview was with the program director, who was ridiculously nice and genuine. He was the only one who asked about my leave of absence.
And he was so nice about it. I told him I took a gamble with my application, stating clearly that my leave of absence was due to mental health. I said to him that I was just not interested in being in a program that advocates for mental health but shuns its residents for having mental health issues. And I was pleasantly surprised to hear the following words from him: “I couldn’t agree with you more.” He then basically said he was glad I did that, that it was very smart of me to take that gamble, and that it was a strength I had, just coming forward with the facts. He went so far as to share his own struggles. I mean, seriously, it was awesome. He single-handedly gave me a much needed ego boost.
So, yeah, it was all a pleasant surprise yesterday. Unfortunately, I was very nervous and made a bunch of mistakes. Hopefully, that’s just me exaggerating in retrospect and I actually gave off the impression that I’m a decent human being who fits into their program.
And so was the beginning of the interview trail for me. Better than I was expecting. Thank you all for being so encouraging.
However…food has begun to be a big struggle again.
I’m fat. I’m the fattest I’ve been since losing all the weight I gained. Rationally, I know it’s only about 5-7 additional pounds, but my mind can’t bear with even a single extra pound. My week with the Russian was terrible food-wise and this week so far has been even worse.
I’m eating so fucking much. I’m using food for stress-relief, as comfort, distraction, and entertainment when bored. For some reason, the instability of not having a place to call home and being exposed to so much new stuff has me eating everything in sight. I feel more comfortable fasting when home, it’s easier to hide. When I’m away from home and around new people I feel the pressure to hide the eating disorder and thus, eat everything in sight. I guess it’s a way of saying See?! I’m not eating disordered! There’s your proof!, a way of avoiding the questions and the looks.
Also, the more food I have at my reach, the more difficult it is for me to not feel a strange urge to eat everything at once just to get rid of it all. That’s why back home and when I’m living alone I stick to basically the same food every day. Routine is safe, routine keeps me relatively thin. By having a routine I avoid the urge to eat things that are new to my taste buds just so I can make them disappear. Having food around is a trigger, so the more routine and boring the food I have close to me is, the less triggered I get. It’s when I’m in other people’s environments that all hell breaks loose, as I can’t control the food I have access to.
None of it makes any fucking sense, in spite of my rationalizing my way through the last two paragraphs. I just know I’m fucking fat and I need to do something about it.
Oh, and by the way, having to eat in front of potential employers and co-workers yesterday during the interview day was torture. I could feel them looking at me and thinking I was too thin, anorexic, so I felt the urge to eat in spite of my not being hungry.
I just want to have it all: be thin and match in a good psychiatry program where I’ll be happy. Is that too much to ask?