I suppose I should update about my last couple of sessions before I go for my next one tomorrow. Therapy on Friday was, in a word, frustrating. Traffic made me five minutes late so I was already flustered and stressed out. Then I sat in the waiting room for fifteen more minutes until R came out. Seriously, how are you already almost a half-hour behind schedule at nine o'clock in the morning? Lateness is a major pet peeve...can you tell?
But that wasn't the main reason I was frustrated. It should have been a positive and productive appointment because things are going really well for me lately and I am feeling a lot more like myself. But then it ended up being lame and pointless - like if I'm doing okay, then there's nothing really left for us to discuss. Even though I had lost some weight and admitted to R that I was eating pretty restrictively since getting sick on spring break, we didn't really talk about that or anything else substantial. Then he let me out almost ten minutes early. So my hour-long session was reduced to a whopping total of about thirty-five minutes. Granted, I know that I'm pretty withdrawn and do not make it particularly easy on R to get stuff out of me, but still, I was irritated with the way we left things.
Reading back over that, I hope it doesn't come across as bitter or snotty or entitled or anything. I know that I need to work harder in therapy and that this thing is a two-way street, but it just bugs me when R doesn't try very hard to push me.
Then on Monday, I saw my dietician J after having procrastinated and not made an appointment with her for about three weeks. Technically, I think I am supposed to see her weekly but honestly, that's overkill at this point. (Not to mention expensive. And she's even $90 cheaper per session than my old D was!)
In the past couple months, I've noticed that J has changed her approach with me. She used to be very methodical about writing out my meal plan and setting goals like eat 100% of breakfast three days this week or buy butter or order a non-salad entree at a restaurant that I usually never accomplished. So my weight fluctuated within about a 3-lb range for six months as I waffled week-to-week on how compliant I was actually going to be.
Now, we barely even talk about specific foods at all anymore. J is always sweet and perky and upbeat, but I'm getting the sense that she's pretty frustrated with me, and basically at a loss as to what to do. She keeps telling me that I'm "stuck" in my motivation for recovery and that she's "stuck" about how to proceed. On Monday, she kept asking me what I want for the future - like specifically, do I want to have kids someday, and do I want my kids to pick up on Mom's screwy eating habits. (Just to be clear: we were speaking hypothetically. Although I do want to have kids, this is not happening ANYTIME SOON.)
Anyway, it's hard to hear that stuff when in all other respects, I'm doing awesomely. I finally seem to have more of a handle on my moods and emotions, I'm not crying all the time, the anxiety (knock on wood) is lying dormant, despite being off all meds - and I do not want to be confronted with Serious Conversations about how I'm destroying my fertility. And I don't feel like I'm in denial - I know that I have an eating disorder and I know that I'm not recovered, but it's odd that R doesn't seem to have a lot to say while J is only saying what I don't want to hear.