I had a session with T today; my first of two this week. It was blissful to see her, but we had a lot of logistics for me to talk about and for us to plan for.
First on the agenda was this possible meeting between T, A and myself. She is unsure of the point/purpose of us meeting as a group, and so we talked for a while about the reasons (which I was extremely uncertain about – proof of my anxiety in yesterday’s session, I didn’t hear too much of what A was saying to me). In short, T isn’t sure whether us meeting would be helpful, and I really can’t be doing with the anxiety of trying to explain and/or organise it between them. T agreed to just sort it out between herself and A – if the meeting is necessary, we’ll meet in the room I have therapy with T in. T was very reassuring that perhaps we could do a double session (so that I have a chance to debrief afterwards) and I felt so protected by her. Little felt held, supported, guided and sheltered by T today – we just don’t feel like that, EVER. At one point, I said something like “can you just sort it out with her please” and T agreed… she’s taking care of it, taking care of me, and I honestly felt quite choked up. So, watch this space.
We talked a little about my motivations for starting ED treatment, as I am fearful that A doesn’t feel I am motivated enough to be started treatment. I had mapped out my ideas, and T added two that are super important but I hadn’t thought about (whether that was a subconscious thing or not…). I will share them with A tomorrow, and see what she says.
We talked a little about G and her pregnancy. I really can’t too much about how I’m feeling about it, I well up and I didn’t want to get upset today. I need to find myself a new GP, I will ring her to try and organise this tomorrow, as I cannot let this hang over me for too much longer. I will cope much better with the ending if I’m organised and prepared.
It was a bit like Show and Tell in our session today! I brought my motivation list, and a book, and my bunny. The book is written by a psychoanalyst, I didn’t think it was very good, but the first page had a quote on it that made me absolutely melt. It seems to describe therapy for me so clearly – it holds within its words the pain wrapped up in the process, how it can be both a process of huge growth and horrendous loss and yet maybe, just maybe that might be ok? Here is the quote (by Andre Dubus II):
We receive and we lose, and we must try to achieve gratitude; and with that gratitude to embrace with whole hearts whatever of life that remains after the losses.
Isn’t it just beautiful?
The final part of my Show and Tell is Little’s new transitional object! We went shopping on Tuesday morning, and I let her pretty much run riot in the toy section. We looked at LOTS of toys (dear God, I thought I was going to lose my mind, in fact, with her indecision) until she spotted a bunny, and decided he was definitely it. He ticks every single box – he’s beautifully soft, with a sort of fur that can be smoothed or roughed (texture = tick), he has beans in his bum which make him heavy (grounding = tick), he has long ears (twirling/fiddling = tick), he’s big enough for cuddling and to find in bed (size = tick) and he is generally absolutely lush. Little is in love with her big, white, cuddly bunny. So enamoured, in fact, that she didn’t want T to keep him today! Perhaps on Friday she will, as he is meant to be our connection to T.
So, here he is:
Isn’t he absolutely gorgeous? He needs a name so anyone who has any suggestions, please let me know as I am a bit stumped. He is definitely a he – T questioned me on this, and I don’t have an answer as to why all of my inanimate objects have to be male, I just know it is safer this way. So, any name suggestions please.
I showed him to T and she said “he’s just like the velveteen rabbit”. I didn’t know the story, though I had a copy of the book at home, so I went home and sat and read it. Oh, my life. It is so gorgeous. I cried. There is part of it that I have heard read at weddings before, but it seems so poignant right now, in my fight to become an adult, a healthy, happy adult, a real adult… it make my skin stand on end. Here it is:
‘Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’
‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.
‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’
‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’
‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.’
It hurts me in such a good way.
My homework from T this week was to spend time rubbing cream into my skin – every day. This is just not possible right now – I don’t want to let T down, but I absolutely cannot consider touching the disgustingness of my flesh. I just. I can’t. I don’t even have body wash that smells girly, I only just manage the basics of brushing teeth and washing hair, I don’t look after myself in a girly way at all, but there is absolutely no way I can start to look after myself by actually touching the grossness. T said I could do it with my eyes shut, but that wouldn’t stop me feeling the fat roll under my skin. Ugh. I feel sick just thinking of it. The idea, however, is sound, so I thought I might try to do *something* girly tonight and tomorrow. It won’t be creams, I cried in the aisle in the supermarket when I tried to force myself into buying a tube. But tonight I am going to try to paint my nails.
Because really, how much fat can there be in my hands? There really isn’t anything scary about them.
Still, though. I’m scared of being kind to myself. x