From Hardass to Softie

Today, Dr. Joe called me a hardass.

This is not the first time he has said something so blunt to me, yet these comments always stop me in my tracks and are a bit...jarring. Sometimes I think the man is a genius; other times I think he is in need of therapy more than me.

At least he got me to crack a smile. Given that I normally do not see Dr. Joe on Mondays, let me back up...

Yesterday, my father called to let me know my 87-year old grandmother's passing is drawing near, and that it looks like it may be as early as today or this week sometime. While this is expected and not entirely shocking, it is coming at a time that is not necessarily convenient (as though there is ever really a convenient time for such a thing). I am also still in a pretty fragile emotional state, given the ups and downs that are expected on the roller coaster of ED recovery.

Not to mention the fact that I just dealt with a very unexpected death in the family about a month ago- my uncle's suicide. That particular experience brought with it all kinds of emotional baggage (true family dysfunction in every sense of the word).

Anyhow, the news of my grandmother's deteriorating health and the likelihood of another funeral in the near future really threw me for a loop. Another punch to the gut...that's what it felt like. It's as though my life just keeps spinning faster and faster as I try to slow it down and focus on such minute tasks as, oh, eating three meals a day and keeping them down and trying to pull myself out of the lows that have hit me recently. Knocked back into the depression that has been haunting me for a few weeks, I retreated to bed very early last night and stayed there until late this morning.

This morning, it took a lot of "Come on, M. Just move your body." to get out of bed, into the shower, and to get dressed. I used my 30-minute commute to gain some composure, psych myself up to go work with college students, and put on my look-at-me-I'm-so-together persona. I entered my office through the back door so I could stop by my two friends' offices and WHAM...the tears came out of nowhere.

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it. Thank god for those two and my angel of a boss, who allowed me to head right back home and back into the safety of my bed.

Dr. Joe has given me a list of four instances in which I must email or call him:

1. I purge.
2. I skip consecutive meals.
3. I break our 10-hour-per-week exercise rule.
4. I stay home from work/ leave work.

So I emailed. Like the Perfect Patient I am. And he tells me to come by at 4:00.

So I do. After being in bed for several hours. And looking like death (although, let's face it...I'm sure he's seen much worse).

I tell Dr. Joe I do not understand why life's challenges are so hard for me to take right now, and that I feel the resiliency I once had is gone. I've turned to mush. Everything is just too much to handle and I hate how I turn into a blubbering mess at the drop of a hat. Life is too much, it's all so overwhelming.

I say to him "the Old Me could deal with anything. The Me I am right now can't hardly manage life."

Enter Dr. Joe's "hardass" comment. He says: "M., the Old You was a hardass."

Well, ok, then. That silenced me.

I took three things away from meeting with Dr. Joe today:

1. I was a hardass at one point in my life. I didn't admit weakness, I didn't give in, and I didn't cry. This experience is teaching me to listen to my mind, my emotions. This is new for me, and the emotions are really quite frightening. Tears and emotional breakdowns...enter stage left.

2. It's ok to just give up sometimes. When Dr. Joe asked me what I planned to do when I left his office, I said "go right back to bed." And he said "Ok. Rest is good for you right now." Music to my ears...because I was incapable of doing anything else, anyhow.

3. Tomorrow is another chance to get back in the game.

For now, back to bed. To rest. Recharge. Regroup.