Is this a thing? Do people do this? Perhaps it's actually breaking the rules of therapy, frankly, I have no idea. But here I am, putting it out there.
My first official session was like a scene from a movie. What made you sign up for therapy? she asked, and then, without warning, the tears came. And there I sat, staring at this woman I met 3.2 seconds ago, crying so hard I couldn't actually explain why I was sitting across from her that day. God, how cliche. Just thinking about it now, I am embarrassed for that person I was for 1h and 08 minutes (cha-cha-ching! because they charge you for over!).
After the session I told my bruised self that it was a combination of triggers that created that tearful episode. A shitty day at work. That time of the month. I was nervous. Ect. But truth be told the trigger was this: I am sick of being me. Sick of my own thoughts. Sick of seeing this person in the mirror. Sick and tired of failing at every single fucking thing I set out to do. And finally, I had acknowledged something needed to change. Anything had to change, and that I needed (need) help.
And then within minutes of talking, and after several failed tissues blotted my eyes, she commented, so, you're very hard on yourself. It wasn't a question, and yet I answered no. Well, sometimes, but that's what drives me forward and pushes me. That hardness on myself is what has lead me to accomplish so many things.
And she nodded along, writing her notes. And there I was, just another girl, sitting in a chair, paying $210 an hour to talk about my feelings with someone I had just met. Someone who nodded away at my problems and issues and thoughts on life. Someone I didn't know, but someone who apparently could improve my well being.
But I was honest with her. Well, as best as I could be. As the clock ticked on, and the money slipped out of my pocket into hers, I made a few long-stories-short, because jeesh, y'all, time moves fast when you're talking about yourself.
She's very skinny, my therapist. Perhaps, too skinny. And maybe, yes, I don't know. Is it fucked up that I noticed? Would you have? Well, whatever, i did. Because it was sort of ironic, no? That there I was, obese (as per my BMI that she read to me) exploding my feelings about food and weight and binge eating and food obsessing and throwing up and diets and grocery shopping and eating cookies from the cupboard at 4am when I was 11 years old, to her. Yup, there I was sharing this to this skinny, perhaps even younger than me, therapist. Well fuck. And ladies & gentlemen, welcome to my life.
Look, the first session (well, technically the second) haven't been that eye opening. She said she'd send me my "homework," and it's been over 48 hours and I have refreshed my email 1 million and two times, but nope, nothing. She did, however, at the end give me a scenario (it was: imagine sitting at a restaurant table, waiting for a friend, and then the friend texts you and cancels) and I had to break apart my thoughts, emotions and actions after that happens. Truthfully I feel like I failed at the exercise. Why? Oh perhaps because I sat there blankly shrugging my shoulders, and then when I did finally come up with something, it appeared to be wrong from her, "yes... but what about this..." response, and she'd then just tell me what my response should have been. Disappointment. It was an emotion. Not the action of me getting up and leaving (just in case you ever find yourself seeking therapy. You never know!!)
So one down, a few more to go, or perhaps a million, who knows. But all I know is I weigh 190 lbs, and that each & every day I promise myself I'm going to lose weight, and then I obsess and binge and eat all the food in my path. Actually, I realized last weekend I weigh 23 pounds more than I did this very weekend a year ago. LOL. Weight loss is fucking hilarious. I mean for fucks sake.
Oh, and before I sign off I must confess the topic of relationships/guys did come up. Second LOL for the evening. Because in good old well meaning therapist sayings, she said but the right man won't care about your size. My eyes nearly fell back into my head because how easy is that to say when you're 118 pounds? I quickly corrected her, and noted how I've been both slim and fat out in the dating world, and that let me tell you, it's a hell of a lot easier being skinnier. Sure, yes, I know, definitely, love is about the inside of the person, but hell, to figure out the inside, to even get that far, you have to be attracted to the outside. To which she looked at me, a little stumped for words, and actually, agreed with me. Or... perhaps she rolled her eyes as she jotted down notes about my fucked up life, and thought shit, this girl has a weighs (PUN!) to go. (Except she's not funny. So I doubt she wrote that excellent pun down.)
And with that, until next time dear blog. Until next time...
jacobvanloon
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
prguitarman
kianamaiart