Therapy Session: Finding Something to Fight Against

boxing gloves

God, would I just get over this whole scale thing? Yeah, no apparently not. I might have possibly canceled my appointment with my psychiatrist. Possibly.

Which means that I’ve rescheduled it for the 8th, and it pretty much ensures I will get yelled at for not keeping my appointments. Cause I do this a lot. And run out of meds a lot.

So yeah, nearly the entire session was around my stupid fear of scales. Or much more accurately, the fear of someone else measuring my weight on a scale. My favorite part of today’s discussion?

T: “Yeah well, pap smears and mammograms aren’t fun, but we do those.”

Me: “They’re easier. Omg, I can’t believe I just said that and meant it. That’s so messed up.”

First off, really? A trip to the gyno is easier?!?! Yes. Yes, it is. And second, how is it we always manage to get on these types of conversations, and it’s not even a big deal anymore? Like once, we literally had a discussion about the color of my pee.

Turns out this whole scale avoidance thing is due more to emotional flashbacks than anything else. The emotions I feel when I stand up there for weigh-in’s brings back memories of previous times in my life where the feelings have felt similar. So something that should be a neutral experience becomes highly emotional. At least now I know why I feel the way I do. I just wish that by knowing why I could prevent myself from feeling like that again. Too bad things don’t work that way. I guess it’s something I will have to work on.

I think my therapist is finally beginning to hear me when I actually say I want recovery but I just feel really scared and I freeze instead. It’s like I can’t get my feet to move.

I told her that I try to get brave, but fear comes and takes over, and I end up just feeling really angry and frustrated with myself because I can’t do it. She told me that maybe my anger shouldn’t be placed on myself but instead on someone else. I refused to follow her there. I know she wanted me to place that anger on my dad, but in that moment, I wouldn’t do it. I wanted to hold the blame. After all, I’m the one who refuses to put a fork to my mouth, right?

But no, it’s not my fault. My dad used to say that whenever there is a decision to be made, remove all emotions from the equation and make your decision strictly on facts. He said emotions cloud better judgment. But do you know what actually happens when you stop factoring in the emotional needs of everyone around you?…..Because that is EXACTLY what happens when you remove emotions from a decision-making process, you neglect people’s emotional needs. It means your ten-year-old daughter stops eating, but she doesn’t understand why. The only thing she can explain is that she likes feeling empty inside. No 10-year-old deserves anorexia. No 10-year-old deserves to hurt the way I did. It wasn’t as if I intentionally decided to develop an eating disorder. I simply discovered that emotions get blunted when you are hungry, and starving hurt a lot less than what I was feeling inside. And I used it because it worked.

So no, I don’t deserve to have anorexia. I don’t get to blame myself for its beginnings. That all falls on my dad. What I do have to take accountability for, is the fact that I’m letting it continue. I am responsible for my recovery and for what I do right now. I need to learn to direct my anger towards him, and towards this illness instead of hating myself. I need something to fight against.


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