I felt ugly talking to Dr. D today. We talked about binge eating and how my diet isn’t the best. I have a terrible sweet tooth but I also eat to sooth myself. I hope it counts for something that I didn’t binge the other day. I’m not a fat slob failure but I certainly feel like one.
We talked about the amount of anxiety that I feel, still. This was going on before the medical event and has picked right back up. It’s been difficult not to cut but I reluctantly admitted to scratching in order to relieve stress.
We talked about the hug from The Surgeon. He was surprised I liked the hug. I told him I get about 10 hugs every time I go to the Kingdom Hall. I like them. The hug from The Surgeon was healing, especially since I won’t see him again. I like the spider plant starts I got from them, too.
I don’t feel relieved today after therapy. I feel guilty and ugly. It’s not that he did anything or didn’t do something, its the subject of food and weight that is troublesome for me.
We talked about how difficult it is to go to Oncology / Hematology to see Big E. It’s hard walking through the door. Any wall I put up to function from day to day with what happened is torn down. I’m given a little more information about how dire the situation was and I think to myself, I don’t want or need to know more. I survived it, period. Let me heal from here. You doctors can ‘marvel’ at how close I came and snapped back. I’m still in whiplash mode, shock and horror. I can’t take any more details. I don’t want ‘the talk’ anymore either. Every time I show up I’m told what could happen if I fail to take the shots, if I don’t take meds, if I fall, if I do this or that. I get it. Ok, I get it. Each appointment telling me how I’ll be back in the hospital is getting old…… What am I going on about?
I’m sitting here tearful, trying to figure out why…trying to justify the lasagna left overs I’m going to have. I just feel bad…..and mad at Dr. D. I feel judged for admitting what I purchased and for saying I’m having lasagna. After I said I’m having lasagna he asked what I think the issue is with my eating habits, as if something is unhealthy about lasagna. It wasn’t meant that way, I’m sure. I know I’m super sensitive about the subject. Hardly ever do I end a session feeling horrible about myself. It’s the subject matter. I just feel bad about it.
I remember once a doctor asked me, ‘Do you think you’d be more attractive to the opposite sex if you lost weight?’. That question was asked more than 15 years ago but it still stings!!! Weight is a very sticky subject for me, one that needs to be treated delicately because I don’t forget and I don’t forgive crap like what was said above.
My heart is not ugly.
Food was a major part of my abuse. I celebrate meals for a reason. I sit at the dinner table for a reason. The mother was cold and cruel. Her favorite line was, “The law says I have to feed you but it doesn’t say what I have to feed you.” I didn’t deserve to eat. Sometimes the meal was small, if anything, other times we ate very well, but food had to do with what was earned, what I ‘deserved’. Eating wasn’t a right. It’s so messed up.