I'm a difficult patient - I get that. I've been working with my psychologist for just under a year now, she is one of the most compassionate health care professionals I have had the pleasure of working with; she is soft and gentle with my very sensitive, delicate soul. My psychologist got on to her hands and knees and joined me at rock bottom whilst we tried to unpick and untangle the web of self-doubt and confusion of my eating disorder, of who I am and of life's hurdles. But today we reached a stalemate, after 11 months of us sitting side by side, today she questioned why, she questioned why I was still asking her to work with me and she questioned if I was holding hands with my eating disorder as well as holding hands with her. As I sit here now, in the evening light, hugging warm tea, I feel 100% inadequate, confused and very hopeless.
At the beginning of this year, I was diagnosed with a chronic illness that isn't curable but is managed with diet, lifestyle and medication. I have to change every aspect of my food intake, I am now expected to eat the foods I fear the most. Obviously, this has thrown my eating disorder into some sort monster that I haven't been able to manage. I can often feel the buzzing within my mind; I get the daily jitters, the voice that shakes and the heart that pounds so hard against the walls of my chest. I am inwardly screaming on a daily basis. In answer to my psychologist; no I am not holding hands with my eating disorder, I am just struggling, and I am scared, scared of that inside monster who sits very strongly within my mind, clouding my thoughts with it's cigarette smoke.
Why is it that when we struggle, we are made to feel like we are not trying hard enough. Shouldn't we be celebrating every tiny victory?
I'm a difficult patient - I get that. My psychologist tried... maybe I am the problem.
At the beginning of this year, I was diagnosed with a chronic illness that isn't curable but is managed with diet, lifestyle and medication. I have to change every aspect of my food intake, I am now expected to eat the foods I fear the most. Obviously, this has thrown my eating disorder into some sort monster that I haven't been able to manage. I can often feel the buzzing within my mind; I get the daily jitters, the voice that shakes and the heart that pounds so hard against the walls of my chest. I am inwardly screaming on a daily basis. In answer to my psychologist; no I am not holding hands with my eating disorder, I am just struggling, and I am scared, scared of that inside monster who sits very strongly within my mind, clouding my thoughts with it's cigarette smoke.
Why is it that when we struggle, we are made to feel like we are not trying hard enough. Shouldn't we be celebrating every tiny victory?
I'm a difficult patient - I get that. My psychologist tried... maybe I am the problem.
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