I'm a firm believer in talking stuff out ...whether that be with a friend, a stranger, a counselor ... whoever.
I have a therapist that I see once a week, but sometimes I feel like that's just not enough. 45 mins a week I can be my true self, without holding anything back. She doesn't know everything about me, but she knows a huge chunk of life that I haven't even thought about sharing with anyone else. No, that's a lie.
I've thought about sharing it with other people, but I worry that .... that what? That they won't believe me, that they won't give me the time of day to say all of the things I need to purge, that they won't truly care.
In talking to my shrink today (side note: It's kinda funny that I go to a shrink for body/food issues, isn't it? .... cue lame joke about a shrink helping me to shrink wahwahwah) ... anyways, talking to her today I came to the realization that 45 mins a week just isn't enough sometimes (most of the time).
I go in there talking about something
Which could open the window to something else
Which could make me think about something I haven't talked about in a long time
Which could make me realize I'm repressing stuff I didn't even know I was repressing
which could make me question my entire existance
which could make me question everyone around me
which could make me ....
.... oh time's up!
Wait, what was I talking about in the first place? And now I'm back to work, feeling like shit cuz I've been analyzing my life and relationships and body and food and blahblahblah for the last 45 mins and all i want to do is crawl into bed and run away from the world. And so I spent the remainder of the day with my head in the clouds, bearly able to concentrate on work .....
.... cuz today I realized that my mum is largely to blame for my issues. Don't get me wrong, my mother is wonderful. But as I've grown older my relationship has dwindled and I don't really have, well, much of a relationship at all with her. She was a single mother from the time I was 8, so I appreciate all the things that she did to raise 3 kids on her own, while dealing with my douchey dad (whole different entry!). Because she had to deal with all this crap of being a single mother, working multiple jobs and dealing with an asshole ex husband, I feel really guilty ever knocking her. For the majority of my life I have blamed my father for my issues (and still blame him for a large part of my issues). But I have a hard time placing the blame on people (even if it is my dad). I often wonder if we place blame on others because we are afraid of our own shortcomings. So in blaming someone else for our mistakes we don't have to own up to the fact that we have screwed ourselves over. So after many years of blaming myself for being a fuckup (well, mainly blaming my dad, but also myself) I've realized that my mum has had a pretty big part in it too. (even writing that makes me a little anxious with guilt ... will I ever get over it?)
She has her own food/weight/self esteem issues, and now she's fucked me up too!! I told my therapist today that my mum has no idea that I have an eating disorder, my therapist was shocked. How could she have any idea? She's wrapped up in her own delusional eating disordered world. And when she's not, she's wrapped up in my sisters life. It's been kinda perfect actually, I could get away with it ....except that it's not really that obvious that I have an eating disorder. I'm on the higher end of a healthy weight range for a woman my height. I was overweight, but now I'm not. So if anything I'm healthy right? Plus, if I were to ever confess to my mother that there's a possibily that I could have an eating disorder (although she may not say it) I feel like she might be a tiny bit disappointed that i'm not anorexic. I mean, what's the point of having an ed if you're not gonna end up being skinny, right? God, I hope that's just me being crazy thinking she could actually think that way.
Whoa, I feel like I've written way tooo much ... and yet I haven't gotten out nearly half of what goes through my head. My boyfriend is at work tonite so I feel like I could write for hours. Why do I feel self conscious about writing while he's here? he'll ask too many questions ... and not cuz he's trying to pry, but just cuz he's genuinely concerned. he's one of the people that I would love to share my struggles with, bgut he's also the one person I fear I will freak out the most and send runnign for the hills.
I've lost my train of thought and feel like I've gone totally off track now, so I'll leave it at that. But maybe, hopefully I'll start writing in here more.
It's actually quite therapeautic.
