Counseling 2, Session 1,
Let's try this again and see
if we can get it right this time.
That being said, this session was relatively painless. My new therapist is a man. For me, that's slightly problematic. I don't know why.
For the most part the session dealt in generalities. I made general statements about the fact that I was abused. He asked general questions about my desire to live. I made general statements about my quality of life. He asked general questions about my self-esteem. I told him, "I am one of the most capable people I know." I figured false modesty wouldn't be helpful. He just as well know now that I'm an unapologetic ego-maniac. He tried to ascertain my career. I told him I was a musician, tax-preparer, financial consultant. He asked me to define musician. I told him that this year it meant I taught piano lessons in my studio, was guest lecturing for six weeks in the "Historical piano literature" class at the university, was the rehearsal conductor/oboist for the Messiah orchestra, and the assistant coordinator of the RACE piano exams. He asked if it was stressful to juggle all those things. I said it was more stressful to not have enough to do--it only takes about 45 minutes to clean a house.
We moved to church involvement. He said he assumed, since my husband was a bishop, that I was active. I said I was. He asked what my calling was. I told him I was Laurel Advisor and that I'd begin teaching early morning seminary in a couple of weeks. He asked if I ever got tired. I said, sometimes.
He told me Darrin had said he was concerned that I was running so much. I said I didn't think that was a real problem. I usually only ran about seven miles at a time.
He asked what caused me stress. I told him, not being able to eat, not understanding why my brain thinks stupid things about my body, knowing I was abused but not understanding why, and having to buy smaller clothes. He asked why buying smaller clothes made me stressed--besides the expense. I told him it meant that I was smaller, and I don't like that...plus, misses clothes are sized in even numbers from size 0 up to 150 (actually, I have no idea what the largest size is). I'm wearing a 4 now. That only leaves two smaller sizes. That's not a lot of leeway, and I DON'T want to get any smaller. Smaller means less able to defend myself--and I hate that.
He told me he wouldn't focus on whether or not I was eating (YAY!! no more food journal). He said my disorder was not typical, and he felt it was more a defensive reaction to an emotional confusion, than an actual disorder which would be based in the need to lose weight in order to control one's environment. Whatever...I don't want to think about whether or not I'm typical.
I'm thinking about telling him about my SSA when we meet next. I haven't decided if it's pertinent. I'm still trying to decide how I feel about having a male counselor. I'm still trying to decide how I feel about having a counselor who is also David's. That's creepy. In his last e-mail, David said, "I find it hilarious (you have rubbed off on me so much! I never would have thought this funny before I knew you!) that we have the same counselor. It's not hilarious, it's just...odd. And coincidental. And kind of cool." What a weird person he is. He's seventeen--I'll forgive his weirdness.
My counselor said one of the things we have to decide is whether probing the past is healthy or whether it exacerbates the current problem. In essence, if remembering causes more pain than healing. And he sort of gave me permission to forget, if we felt that would be more helpful to my situation. Amazingly, I felt relieved.