I gave him one day.

The Ex doesn’t deserve a single second of my life. But two days ago he somehow managed to creep into the forefront of my mind. That’s ok, because yesterday and today were better days, especially today.

I was gonna discuss this at length in my post, but decided against it. I want to write about it and at the same time I don’t because I don’t want to inadvertently trigger myself. It’s unnecessary. So instead, I’ll just say this: Fuck you Ex. Fuck you. And your whole life/existence. You are a teenage girl abuser. You like little girls. That’s how disgusting you are. So fuck the fuck away. My mind isn’t your space anymore.

Listening to this right now. Always makes me feel good. Enjoy.




It’s been about 3 weeks since I truly felt miserable depression-wise. Let’s see if I can keep it up. To be honest it feels a bit weird. I mean, it’s good….but weird.

As for food-wise, it’s a whole other story. The eating disordered thoughts are always there, and a behavior here and there keeps me on edge. This whole week I’ve been home alone and I thought it would be a fasting fest, but for some reason I couldn’t get myself to do it. Skipped meals or snacks here and there, but nothing serious; which of course, makes me feel like a “fat failure”. And just like my previous post I feel like purging my lunch now. *Sigh*

During my appointment with G this past week, she told me she wants to address the food issues on our next appointment. I merely rolled my eyes anxiously when she said that, but really I was terrified inside. I know what G is like, and I know that once she starts tackling food issues with me, things are going to get ugly. To a certain point, it was even funny when she mentioned that because she said she knows I drop a few clues here and there about my food issues but never get around to tackling them. I couldn’t help but laugh, the woman truly is listening to me after all. But honestly, when she said that, a monster kind of woke up inside of me and I got in instant defensive mode. I’m scared. I don’t want to tackle this. I just want to lose weight. Just let me lose weight and be thin. Let me manipulate my body and control….I need this.

Meanwhile, I was relieved of The Ex and memories pertaining to the relationshiT during this whole week. Even during my session with G I think I didn’t even mention much of it. Then yesterday *BAM* flashbacks, memories, disgust, guilt, anxiety….the whole package. It was all triggered by the “security measures” I took with the blog. Mainly I was thinking about my past as a child and how many things have just left me confused over the years and I have yet to understand myself fully.

There’s a lot I don’t remember from my childhood, but I honestly don’t know if it’s a normal degree of “I don’t know” or if it’s something I should be suspicious of. I honestly think it’s the former, and yet, even a bunch of things I do remember are weird to some degree or another. I’m not saying that something happened to me as a child, but I have always found it odd that I would, out-of-the-blue, engage in an abusive relationship with an older man during my teens.

Like I’ve said before, 9-10 years-old was a defining age for me. And yet, I don’t know why. I always just thought it was puberty, and that it hit me hard and relatively early, but somehow I think there’s more to it. Still, I’m really frustrated because: 1) I’ll probably never know if something actually happened, or 2) maybe nothing happened and I was simply a weird little outlier in the developmental sense. I try to piece things about myself together, and yet I always arrive at a dead end.

Then today I read this article. The similarities are just uncanny. Replace the name “Marcy” with “Dana” and you basically have my story. Even the disgusting things he said about not being able to control himself were the same with me….word for word.

I just don’t understand any of it. And instead of dealing with that, which seems so out of control and confusing, I prefer to deal with my weight, which is something straightforward and simple.  Become smaller so you don’t grow up. Become smaller so you can remain unique and special. Become smaller so the outside can reflect the fragility of your inside. Become smaller so you can physically feel the emptiness and a weight being lifted off your whole body. Become smaller so you don’t become a sexual object. No boobs, no butt, no thighs, so they don’t look at you with lustful glances.

I’d lost two pounds the other day and was incredibly relieved and relaxed because of it. That same day was my appointment with G. I mentioned it to her, told her what my weight was and she could see my excitement. She kind of tagged along with the conversation but I could see it in her face, her thinking: “What the fuck is wrong with her? She’s already underweight!”

But I’d rather remain in that state of simplicity and control. I’d rather focus on that than trying to piece together a bunch of stupid memories that will simply lead me to the dead end of all dead ends:

That I am simply weird and there is no explanation for what happened or how it happened.

I love it when I feel absolutely inspired. It calms me down, makes me feel alive. It always happens when I dance, and it’s….absolute bliss. That feeling of being in the zone…it takes everything away, every worry, every thought about my body, anxiety, every negative perception or whatever….everything. It strips away the dirt and it leaves me feeling wonderfully light, airy, and ready to take on the world. Same happens when I’m with patients and have good rapport or do a good job, or get them to smile, or laugh or whatever….feels wonderful. Everything is perfect.

It’s the best antidepressant/anxiolytic out there.

Today was my last appointment with M.

Strangely enough, I feel ok. I feel calm. But not “bad” calm….”good” calm. I still feel like crying, but not an inconsolable cry like I had last night while finding the right words to write her goodbye/thank you card. Somehow, I feel an incredible hope and a sense that things will be alright.

That last hour with her was completely bittersweet. I went in her office, and once she sat down I could feel an air of change. It wasn’t as smooth sailing as I thought it would be, but it was still a good last hour with her.

She asked me how things had gone this week. I told her I would tell her in a second, and proceeded to take out a small gift for her. I’ve been painting a lot lately because I was brainstorming something to give to M as a thank you gift. Finally, a while ago I was able to come up with something special, but was still afraid she wouldn’t accept it or wouldn’t like it.

She asked if she could open it. I said yes, but that she had to read the card I enclosed after opening the gift or else she wouldn’t understand what I had written. She opened it.

And she loved it. She genuinely loved it.

Then she asked if she could read the card with me there. I was a bit hesitant, but said yes. She read it, smiled, commented on the lighter parts, and was pensive and quiet on the more serious parts.

She said that I, too, will hold a special place in her heart forever.

It was very difficult for me to talk during that hour, yet somehow I managed to pull through and tell her almost all the things I wanted to tell her. I told her I cried right after our appointment on Monday, and that I continued crying during the week. I told her that the notebook she gave me meant a lot to me. We discussed my seeing her as a mother figure, and how it’s strengthened my relationship with my mom. She said her supervisor at one point told her that one of the goals was for me to see both the good and the bad in my mom. I told her I had made a great deal of progress with that, but that I still have some work to do. She said she would tell her supervisor, and I told her to thank her for me.

I asked her if she had anything else to say about the moment of enlightenment that I told her about on Monday, how it was, in my opinion, the most important thing that had happened between us (remember that other moment I mentioned in this post? Yes, I’m finally telling you about it). On Monday I read her the following portion from my diary entry on the 22nd of July:

At the end of the session we spent five minutes talking about miscellaneous things, such as my medication, how many appointments were left, about G, and I also asked her whether she already knew what she would be doing after leaving. I was surprised at the effect those 5 minutes had on me. I think it was the fact that I saw more of what she felt than what she usually shows. Hearing her say that she, too, was worried about the future, that she was glad we now had G to continue our work, perceiving a bit of sadness when she said there were 4 appointments left….well, it made me see her human side, and somehow it was a small window into what she feels. It surprised a lot, how much she showed in that short amount of time. I felt somehow she trusted me and that maybe I don’t make her feel as uncomfortable as I sometimes think I do. Honestly, I felt weird but privileged, because she allowed me to see her human side, and not just her role as psychiatrist. Maybe it was a weak moment for her as a doctor, a small slip…but it meant a lot to me, although she probably didn’t feel it that way. Surely, there have been moments like that before. Actually, I know there have been moments like that before, constantly. Maybe I’m paying more attention nowadays, after more than 2 years. It seems that what I most wanted to know was right in front of me all along. And I will definitely never forget it.


I hope I didn’t come across as a creep. What I meant was not that I had somehow satisfied my morbid curiosity about her personal life, but that I had finally understood that she is just as human as I am and that she truly cares about me as a patient and person. That I make her feel something, react, and think to a certain point, just as she makes me feel, react, and think. The key is that I don’t know it now because she explicitly told me, but because she showed it with simple gestures. For some reason I don’t think it was simply because of her responsibility as a doctor, but because she genuinely feels it. And so, I think, that I have always, in every relationship, been in search of that genuine feeling that I matter at least a little to the other person. But this time, for the first time, I don’t have that worry in my heart. She, who has no obligation toward me as a family member or acquaintance, made me feel perfect in spite of my being completely imperfect. With a string of small gestures she inspired in me a genuine feeling that I am worth a lot just the way I am. I had never, in my whole life, felt that before. Basically in those few minutes she made me question the ingrained belief that I am disgusting and worth nothing.

It’s a relationship of unequal power, a doctor-patient relationship, whatever name they want to give it…at the end of the day I know I put her on a pedestal, but now I know that I am just as human and “perfect” as she is. 

Of course, I hope this feeling lasts, but if I ever split her again into black, at least I can go back to this entry and know that this was indeed real, and not just my perception. 

And M said: “You are important to me.”

She said the goal all along has been for me to get better, and that she’s glad I could see a human side to her, because that was another goal. She rambled a bit at that point, of which I don’t remember much honestly. (I’ve always thought she does that when she gets nervous.) She did say, however, that it’s normal to have that curiosity about your therapist’s personal life, but that in the end it’s all about you, not them, which is why, she said, she sometimes said random things about her job or life, but never anything further. She then said her daily life is just as un-interesting as anyone else’s, what with driving, cooking, cleaning, leaving work for the last minute, having to study for tests…at which I couldn’t help but laugh with her (I had a fleeting mental picture of M cooking). But either way, her point got across: that we are always in search of being validated and inspiring love in others, and she was glad that happened with me.

I then asked her why I was initially assigned to her back in 2012, since by that time she was close to finishing her outpatient psychiatry service rotation. She said it might have happened by mistake, because usually they don’t get assigned new patients when they’re close to finishing a rotation. “It ended up being a good mistake,” I said. She agreed.

I asked her what she thought about my progress, and she said she was very satisfied with it and very happy that we were able to achieve so much together. That she was proud of me, and that I had been the one who did all the work, because if I hadn’t been so diligent about my appointments and so dedicated to getting better even when I had lost all hope, then it wouldn’t have had the same result. And then I asked her what she felt during this process, and what she feels now. Unfortunately, I don’t remember exactly what she said, but it was something along the lines of it being full of ups and downs, but that she was glad things ended on a high note.

And, of course, she said my journey has not ended yet, but will merely continue with another person, and that we might actually end up meeting again sometime in the future, considering my interest in psychiatry. She said she knows I will be able to achieve all my goals. And she laughed when I told her that if ever I pass her by and I don’t say hi, to please not take it personally because I’m always very lost in thought when walking.

We talked about a few more things, we laughed a lot, and I almost cried but stopped myself. She asked me what was wrong with my crying, and I told her I didn’t want to feel sad. But really, I just didn’t want our last time together spent on wiping away tears and snot, when in reality what I felt at that moment was sad because she was leaving, mixed with happiness because of all we shared in these 2 and a half years, and hope for the future.

At one point I was at a loss for words. I told her: “I don’t want to say goodbye. This is the worst goodbye of my life.” Then I promised her I was going to be ok, and she said she didn’t doubt it one bit and it was all she ever wanted for me.

I didn’t cry during the whole hour, but my eyes did well up with tears a few times. I don’t know if I was seeing things, but I do think her eyes watered a bit too. She mentioned she cried with another patient’s mother earlier, which I have to admit made me a bit jealous. At one point I wished we’d cried together, but then I realized there was really no need to share a good cry and a mutual suffering. I think it was best having her see me for the last time with hope in my eyes, not tears.

And then it was over. She sat straight and I looked at my watch instinctively, knowing that’s what she does when time’s up. And evidently, it was 12:00 o’clock.

We stood up. We hugged. I almost cried yet again.

In the waiting area I waved a feeble goodbye at her. She smiled and she said, again, that I’ll be ok.

Right outside her office I had told her half jokingly-half true, that I was probably going to sit in the car and cry, and she said: “Oh no!” In the end that’s exactly what I ended up doing, but I didn’t cry as much as I thought I would. Again, I felt a relative calm. I felt ok. I feel ok. And I will be ok, in spite of maybe crying like a baby the next few days.

Goodbye, M. You scarred me for life, but in such a good way. I will never know your favorite color, like I once told you, but I will always know the goodness of your heart.


Dr. —-,

I don’t know if you remember the first time I showed you some of my paintings. I mentioned that I was very overprotective of my work and that something absolutely extraordinary had to happen in order for me to sell them or give them as gifts. I have to confess I didn’t just say that casually; I said it intentionally in your presence. 

Cherry blossoms are, in Japanese culture, a symbol of the cycle of life and death, and how this cycle is fleeting, yet beautiful. That is why I decided to paint you these flowers, and their cycle of blossoming to withering. Let me explain…when we met in 2012 I felt completely dead, but thanks to you I have come back to life. At the same time, this journey we had together unfortunately has come to an end. However, I feel there has been beauty in this whole fleeting cycle: from the moment I was dead and our relationship was barely blossoming, all the way to today, that I feel alive but the relationship has come to its end. So, yes, something absolutely extraordinary happened. And it was all thanks to you (even though I know you’d say: “You did all the work”). 

Shortly before the hospitalization in I wrote: “I thought about doing it by cutting myself, and for a minute I thought about pills…and I almost did it. But I suddenly lost the anger and courage I felt. And then I thought about the doctor, with whom I had an appointment today….yet again, the doctor saved my life.” Yes, M, you’ve literally saved me, more than once, both physically and spiritually. There really are no words for how much gratitude I feel.

You were my guide during this whole journey. If there is a recurrent theme in my diaries, it’s the fear of having you abandon me halfway through it. You never did, and what’s more, you always gave the best of yourself. Thank you for believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. Thank you for letting me know that you did care about me each of the one thousand times I asked you (and even when I didn’t ask you). Thank you for giving me the joy of finding my self-worth for the first time. Thank you for helping me understand myself, forgive myself, and for giving me back hope whenever there seemed to be no light at the end. And, finally, thank you for being you, for giving me your unconditional support, your time, your dedication, your patience, and your wisdom. 

You will forever hold a special place in my heart, because you truly are a special person. You were my doctor, but I will always see you as a friend. 

So, it is with a great pain in my heart that I am saying goodbye, yet I feel fortunate for having met you and for having your lessons with me forever. I am happy for having been a part of your training as a psychiatrist. If someday you doubt yourself and your capacity as a person, just remember that at some point you gave back happiness and hope to a little girl who cried out of all the pain she felt. I wish you nothing but the best in your own journey. 

Until we meet again,

Yep. Didn’t think it would happen anytime soon.

It was a good day. And I enjoyed it. Funny thing is, I didn’t do anything overwhelmingly different today. Goes to show that attitude can do wonders.

Yesterday wasn’t really any good. Spent the day with the family; we watched the World Cup final. I actually didn’t have that much time to ruminate, which was good, but either way I didn’t feel alright. I felt fat, lonely and without a significant other, and kept thinking that I will never find someone. That was in addition to the feeling of depression and suicidal thoughts. So, I didn’t really have high hopes for today.

Today I went to the gym. When I got home I sent the necessary documents to request a refund for the Step 2 CK that I had already payed for (the next test med students have to take after Step 1, which I can’t take if I’m on a leave of absence). I felt overwhelmed, and cried a bit before clicking that ‘send’ button, because I suddenly felt I had no idea what I was doing or what I meant to do with my life, and that the leave of absence was a huge mistake. I guess I ended up pushing all that to the back of my mind, because I calmed down a bit afterward.

Then, in the afternoon, MM, mom, and I went to my grandmother’s old house to clean up and organize things. My grandmother died in 2012, but there is still work to be done around the house and my mom has been taking care of it all at her own pace.

We spent the time sorting out things that MM could use in her future apartment now that she’s back. It wasn’t at all dull because my grandmother owned a lot of old things. Rotary phones, cookbooks from the 50s, pictures from the 40s…all things that I love and marvel at. I love oldies and antiques. (As an aside, she also owned a piano, which I would love to keep because of the memories it brings back…spent a good deal of time looking and exploring the inside…the keys, the strings, the felt hammers…*sigh*)

Anyways, it was a good afternoon of flashbacks, memories, and bonding. I felt reinvigorated, fresh, cleansed. Somehow I just had a good attitude and kept it up during the day.

Even after getting back home I didn’t feel at all bad. I walked the dogs with mom without hesitating and feeling barely any anxiety, was nice to my family, didn’t snap back at anyone…I even smiled, and laughed.

Of course, at one point I realized I was being mostly positive (mostly…because I still felt fat today), so for a moment I started feeling like a fake and like I was being ridiculous. But I pushed through those self-destructive feelings and forced myself to remain positive. I still have those underlying feelings of “fakeness”, and I still feel strange and awkward with this strange new attitude. However, at least for today it’s done a lot of good and no harm, so…it must be good, right?

I hope I can keep it up, though. (I don’t know how many times I’ve said that.) I still feel a lot of darkness, and I don’t exactly feel “good”, but at least I feel calm. And calm is good.

By the way, I didn’t have a single suicidal thought today.

PS: Here’s “Let it be” to make up for my lack of including it in my previous post:

Today was no different. Until now.

I’ve been extremely irritable and constantly angry for at least two weeks. Up until now, in my journey with depression, I had never really experienced such marked irritability and anger. I mean, I’ve always been a ball of angst. However, I always thought it was more of a personality thing. So, this constant rage I’m feeling now on top of that baseline angst, is new to me. As a result, I’ve been treating my family like shit, and beating myself up for it because I know I’m being the horrible person my mind so wants me to believe I am.

Mainly, I’m just angry at myself and my issues. I’ll enumerate them: I feel rage…

  1. …because I have to live with this fucking illness (for lack of a better word), something that until now I had simply accepted reluctantly. 
  2. …because I have no identity, which I already knew, but didn’t really internalize until now that I’m out of medical school and don’t have the distracting factor that was my studies.
  3. …because I HATE myself (and my body) but at the same time hate how horribly mean I am to myself.
  4. …because all I feel is negative: self-hate, pain, sadness, anxiety, borderline paranoia.
  5. …because every day that goes by I feel more pain at being alive and seeing how I slowly become precisely what I feared becoming.
  6. …because at the moment I’m not doing much to get better. 
  7. …because I can’t enjoy the things I once did.
  8. …because I can’t do much on my own, and every time I’m out in public places all I feel is anxiety (at having people look at me, at whatever people are thinking of me, at finding myself face-to-face with my Ex/his wife/his daughter).
  9. …because I take my meds and go to therapy, but most of what M or G say goes in one ear and out the other. 
  10. …because for once in my life I want to have a real relationship. 
  11. …because things aren’t turning out the way I hoped they would.
  12. …because I keep thinking back to what I used to be like and how I’m just a shadow of that nowadays, instead of looking ahead at what I want to be like now as a pseudo-adult and making it happen.
  13. …because I won’t (or don’t want to) take responsibility for my life.
  14. …because I can’t (or don’t want to) love myself.

Unfortunately, it’s way more complicated than what the list makes it look like, but that sums it up.

Anyway, like I said, today was no different until now. I was feeling incredible rage at all those things, especially #1. At one point during the day I was sitting in my bed, internally eating away at myself and feeling terribly desperate. I heard my mom passing by and called her. She stood by me and instantly could tell there was something wrong with me, so she said, for some reason, that I had to let things go. She said: “Like the Beatles’ song: let it be.

At that moment I didn’t give it much thought. It wasn’t until now, after feeling absolutely dreadful the whole day, that I finally grabbed my ipod to listen to that song. When I’m feeling like shit that song always brings me to tears, and this time was no exception.

“There will be an answer, let it be…”

Will there, really? Please let it be true, because I really need it. 

“And when the night is cloudy
There is still a light that shines on me
Shine on until tomorrow, let it be…”

I fear getting tired of all this and having that light die out. I thought I had finally gotten to that point, but I guess I was wrong, because I’m still here, writing this post.

That light is all I have left to hold on to.

I’m back. I was discharged yesterday from the hospital.

First off, I want to thank you all for your kind words of support. It really means a lot to me. I also want to apologize for not responding to whoever commented on my previous posts, but rest assured that I read each comment. Really, you all left me speechless and all I can say is thank you.

I spent a week in the psychiatric unit of a nearby hospital after M decided I was too suicidal and unstable. I think it was the best decision that could be made at the moment and I’m doing much better now. It was, surprisingly, a good experience.

Right now I’m stable and trying to be very mindful, also distracting myself as much as I can from medical school. Also, today I went in for an evaluation for a partial hospitalization program I was referred to. Now I just have to wait and see if my insurance approves it. If that happens then I’ll spend another week out of medical school and going to therapy and group sessions. I really hope my insurance approves it because I don’t feel quite ready to be thrown back into school after spending a week fully hospitalized. If that’s the case then I don’t really know where I’ll be headed med school-wise because I highly doubt I’ll be allowed to finish the pediatrics rotation, seeing as I would have missed way too much time.

But honestly, I think I’ve come to terms with delaying my progress in medical school for a little while. For the first time ever I’ve actually been putting my health first, and I don’t regret it one bit.

I have a lot of ideas and important thoughts in my head. I’ll be posting in the next few days and going more into detail about the hospitalization. For now, I just wanted to give a little update on my status and let you know that I’m still here and I’m feeling vulnerable but hopeful and strong.

I’m taking small steps and big steps all at the same time. But I genuinely feel things are only going to get better from here.

PS: I feel guilty for giving this post such a corny title, but it’s definitely how I feel at the moment. I’ll leave you a perfect musical rendition of how I feel at the moment….


My Pensive

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