I went to see my T Monday. I had written a couple of e-mails to her that I never sent, but I printed these out and brought them with me to the appointment. I read them to her. It took a lot of courage to do this.
To refresh your memory, here is the text of the first e-mail I wrote, the day before, Sunday:
And here is the text of the second:
I wrote the last e-mail this afternoon. I am writing this one while doing laundry Sunday night. I will not send this one, either.
You know, I have things to live for. It’s just that I’m not living for life. You, Dr. P, and Dr. K want me to gain weight. You three represent weight gain to me, and I feel threatened by you, as I feel threatened by the world and its brightness. You see, I fear weight gain more than I fear death.
I see an UP and DOWN arrow here and I feel that I am following the DOWN arrow. It is the only arrow I follow right now because I cannot follow the other arrow.
So I follow the DOWN arrow into the DOWN elevator, and I am trapped in this DOWN elevator and there is no one else in it with me. If it stops on any floors, my eyes are closed and I do not peek when the elevator door opens. I have my headphones on and they are loud, loud, loud and do not want to see the world. The elevator does not stop at the Lobby, but keeps going. And going. I don’t know when it will stop. If the elevator were to stop at a floor and I were to open my eyes, I would see nothing but blackness and no people before me.
When I go to my appointments with Dr. P and go up the elevator, there is a canned voice that announces the stops. As my DOWN elevator descends, its canned voice says, “No progress located on this floor” over and over.
That is the reason I question whether therapy is doing me any good. That is why I wonder if I’m coming to therapy for the right reasons. I like coming because I’m lonely and like having someone to talk to. I don’t want to lose you. Of course, it’s absolutely stupid to give you up–you, of all people, because you’re the best therapist I’ve ever had. Dr. P will be pissed, and she’ll probably drop me as well. It’s all in the cards.
But…I am asking you now for your opinion. I value what you have to say at this point because I just don’t know what to do. I will respect what you have to say. I don’t know if you’re going to say, “I can’t continue with you,” or if you’re going to say something else. I don’t know what your policy is regarding patients that don’t want to get better and in fact want to–according you YOU–want to descend into a downward slide. So I’ll wait until tomorrow (it’s getting late and my laundry is done) and see.
I read both of these without waiting for her response in between. There was a pause, and then she said that she would not stop working with me or “fire” me, that she has no policy about patients that do not want to get better and do not want to change. She said that she would rather have me be honest with her, as I am right now, than have me “fake it” and pretend that I am in recovery when I am not (that is, lie and say that I am eating, I guess). Obviously, both of us realized the futility of “faking it,” and knew that she would find out soon enough that I was trying to pull the wool over her eyes. I told her that I live a very lonely, isolated, difficult life. No one can reach me.
She asked me if I wanted people in my life. I said, “Not really.” She then made some suggestions. One of them was some group associated with Gould Farm. NO WAY! I will not be involved in anything to do with that organization, or support it in any way. Gould Farm is a slave camp and I am very sorry that I spent time there in 1984. Then she made a couple of other suggestions, these not part of the mental health system. I turned them down. I am not interested in being with people, especially not other mental patients (I don’t call myself a mental patient anymore, actually).
She said, “So you want to be with your ED.”
“Yes,” I said.
“You want to be in this abusive relationship.”
“Because that’s what it is. An abusive relationship.”
“I don’t care.”
You know, people abuse, too. I have been in many abusive relationships with people and some very bad abusive relationships with humans and there were no benefits to these relationships. I guess I went running from humans to my ED because my ED was preferable. Kinda says something about my feelings about people, and why I feel the way I do now.
So we talked some more, about getting weighed once a week and how it sucks, and a few other things, and then the session ended. It was enough. I was tired. I was exhausted. I came home.
I see my T again tomorrow. Mondays and Thursdays…it is endless, endless….