A week or so ago, I mentioned To therapy or not. Yes, I have decided to go back, now I just had to make the call. I find calls like this to any professional very nerve-racking, at least initially. It's silly, all they ask is an appointment time, your name, phone number, reason why you want to be seen, etc. It's nothing earth shattering or explicit details (at least they shouldn't anyway).
So, shaking like a leaf and all, I called Therapist C. at the end of last week. I was secretly hoping to get her answering machine, but to no avail, she answered. I told her who I was, and she was very surprised. I don't know whether it was the fact that it was me or that I had somehow "found" her. She did ask that. Heck, she is on the web, it's not that hard. Plus, she's on my insurance list, and I've read a few pieces here and there about her over the years. She also asked if I'd seen Therapist A., the one who was too lackadaisical in her approach. I told her yes and that we just didn't mesh well and left it at that.
As we scheduled the appt. which is two weeks away, she reminded me of the fact that if it was about eating issues, her words were, "well, I'm not any better now than I was when you last saw me." This is the interesting part, at least to me anyway. I found myself saying, "I'm not completely recovered or anything, but I am better--more stable. I didn't want to work on eating issues as much as other stuff that I needed to address." She seemed to be okay with that. And I understand what she was saying--that there are other experts in that field which she could refer me to. But the thing is I chose her. I knew her expertise wasn't eating disorders, but because of the relationship I had with her.
After I said my statement about being better, I had one of those self-reflection moments of asking myself if I really was. Was I only justifying this to her, so she wouldn't be concerned and still see me? Logically, I really do know I am better behavior wise. When Therapist C. first saw me almost ten years ago (I saw her for three years), I was such a mess--depressed as ever, restricting, purging, overexercising, and just stressed to the max. So anything seems better than that. Still though, I have a tendency to be afraid to say when I'm better or happier or anything like that. It's like this fear of jinxing it--that once said, poof, it'll be gone in an instant, and I'll be left back at square one.
I guess I'm just feeling like this is pseudo-recovery right now, like it's not truly real, that I'm just a moment or step away from a relapse. That some traumatic, awful event will send me over the edge.
But then again, maybe I'm just afraid of opening a huge can of worms again in therapy?