I am so tired. Last night was the first night in the apartment housing. The place is filthy. And I don’t mean like from my germ phobia kind of point of view. The place is gross. The fridge wasn’t cleaned, the bathroom is yucky, there is a used q-tip on the floor in my room. Anything metal is rusted. It’s just nasty. Plus it smells strongly of stale cigarette smoke. It has poor lighting too. Oh…and the dryer sucks. I washed and tried to dry my sheets last night (to use my laundry detergent rather than have an allergic reaction to theirs) and after a long, long, long time of trying to dry my sheets, I finally gave up and just made my bed and slept on damp sheets. The internet doesn’t work either. Really, it is that bad. So, what to do? I haven’t gotten that far yet. I am so tired and stressed, I am just going to give it the weekend. Plus Mel and I have plans to clean this weekend. That should help a ton!
Then, last night was also really hard. I didn’t sleep well, mostly because I woke up in the middle of the night in PTSD hypervigilance mode. I was terrified and couldn’t calm myself. I actually had to get up and check the outside door to see if it was locked. And the window and then I locked my bedroom door too. I haven’t felt that unsettled and needed to lock doors in a long time. I even considered tucking a chair under the exterior door. Again, I haven’t felt that unsafe in a long time.
So the new therapist…She actually seemed pretty on the ball yesterday…I mean for the parts where I could pay attention to her between my severe anxiety, tears and dissociation. I will probably have to make eye contact with her and actually try to engage with her next time I see her. I really am struggling with the change of therapist. All it makes me want to do is go home. If I have to change therapists, then I just want to go home to see the AT. He is safe and I know him and he knows me. And then, if I went home, I would be home! In my safe world, with all the people and dogs and things that I love. I just miss being home sooo much. I don’t know why this time in treatment my homesickness has been so strong….
I don’t know….I also blame myself for being here. If I coped with my issues better, if I had fought my ED harder, if I was somehow a stronger or better person, I wouldn’t need to be away from home. <sigh> I wish I could get over this self-blame. But I can’t convince myself that I am not letting down dh and ds by being gone for so long and not working and not contributing to the family.
The New Therapist
I have been observing the new therapist, Kyla, today. And I realized something…I actually realized it a little bit yesterday, but as I have watched her walking around and interacting with people, I realized that she looks very similar to a professor I had at my Associate’s Degree school. And I have a very negative association with that school, that program and that particular professor. That was the school where the Trigger incident occurred and I got no support over it. And that particular professor, whom Kyla resembles, was one of the key players in not hearing me and not supporting me (or outsourcing me for the support I needed) and just generally being part of my downward spiral while I was there. I actually had a lot of issues with this professor before the Trigger and was always on edge around her, but she also happened to be chair of the department, so I had to deal with her about the Trigger.
Now, of course, I know that Kyla is not this professor. But my immediate response is sort of a visceral gun-shy kind of response. Which means I should bring it up in therapy. Which means we will have to talk about it…..Ugh. I hate all of this!
Let me rewind to, “I just want to go home and see the AT.” I am tired of everything being so fucking hard.
And Speaking of Hard
Cuz I need more stress <eye roll>…..My new dietitian tried to fuss with my meal plan. Not changing my food quantity, but changing the way I am portioning. And I listened to her and I tried for one meal….And I freaked. Seriously, I could barely cope. It brought back all that shame that I had blogged about a handful of weeks ago about portion sizes and feeling fat and people comparing and my shitty body image. And I could barely eat because I was so anxious. Really, I just felt so stressed that I had nausea and could barely get food down. It is so un-fun having to eat when I feel that way. I mean, I don’t think any of us would want to eat when feeling nausea, but it’s not like I have a choice, so it makes it worse.
So, in a moment of courage I approached the dietician asked if we could step into her office and I promptly cried. And she asked what was being brought up for me (one of their absolute favorite questions here) and I barely hesitated before saying that it brought up shame and made me feel obvious and the fact that my body size is so different than everyone else’s (in other words, I am FAT). And we discussed that maybe right now is not the right time to change the way I am doing my meal plan. And that maybe I have work to do/processing to do about why I feel so ashamed. And that we will made the meal plan change but not today or this weekend, and that maybe we will start slow and work up.
And….guess what? I felt heard and validated. And she even said something about taking me where I am at. I left her office so relieved.
She did want me to journal/blog about my feelings of shame with changing the meal plan, and I will. But not today. At this point, I need to give myself a little break.