Do we ever face more than one crossroads in our life? I’m at one now, several actually.

Meeting with our T. today provided a reason for us to stop and take pause. There are many unanswered questions where he is concerned and I, myself, don’t know where to take this.

For starters, another eating disorder program bites the dust. The PHP we began on Tuesday elicited some, shall we say, combative behaviors from us, and we were told in certain terms to shape up or we’d be put in-patient. We shaped up all right; shaped up and out the same day. Not having that shit. We will not be incarcerated behind lock doors at a facility that can’t help us and could teach the Gestapo (for a grave lack of a better word) a thing or two. My apologies to those I’ve offended by the reference. Bottom line, I lasted one day in the PHP. Now, we up to our old tricks, which isn’t necessarily good or healthy.

So the question on the treatment team’s mind is, “What do we do with her? Lock her away? Make her see her T. 3-4 times a week? Maybe she is untreatable and we just medicate her sorry ass into a coma-like state. Maybe we could go all the way and kill her off.”

My vote was for the latter, but I don’t seem to count. I guess when you fuck up so many times you become less and less deserving. At least that’s the feeling of the moment: undeserving. There will be a new mood shortly. Our emotions and moods are set to a metronome and rhythmically pace back and forth.

Several items of interest were brought up with Dr. Therapist. First, whether he is an appropriate T. for us. Can he really lead us to the Promised Land? The pendulum swings provocatively with the answer. He doesn’t specialize in trauma or D.I.D. He says he has, and I paraphrase, a good amount of experience working with adolescents with eating “issues.” Which made me wonder why he kept saying “issues”, why not say eating disorder or anorexia or bulimia? But whatever, I don’t subscribe to the ideology that one’s T. must be an expert in the field in order to treat one effectively. I posit one must have complete trust in the T. , have a sound working relationship, and be able to let oneself go in the idea the T. will help pick up the pieces when you are on the floor, writhing in pain and your own messy tears.

It’s the last part that makes me sad. We’ve never been able to let go and get down, dirty, and messy with any T. but our residential T. That makes me sad and frightened. Now, we live in a metropolitan city, replete with T., I hope are competent, so it may just be that we haven’t found the right fit.

To be sure, I don’t want to change T. But if I have to be totally honest, we aren’t pushed hard enough. I find in disconcerting that the changes we’ve made and the work we’ve done and the education we’ve received regarding our inner world all came in just a couple months of residential treatment. We’ve been with our current T. for 3-4 years (not good with dates) and we didn’t learn as much. We need more from him than his obtuseness and his fumbling around for ideas on how to treat us while we do down in flames. We are losing time and ground. Daylight is burning. The body isn’t twenty years old anymore. We need to see real progress under his care.

It’s been my contribution over and over that T. doesn’t listen to us. I’ve had huge fights with T. about his not listening but, of course, he didn’t listen to that.

And I find it very telling that littles were able to come out and tell parts of their story to our res. T. and to the res. group than they have with our current home T.

The last thing I’ll say over the “should I/shouldn’t I” find a new T. is a comment he made today that leads me to still believe he just doesn’t get it. Again, the conversation was regarding whether to reenter residential treatment. T. wants me to do all the work here. See him more often, throw a dietitian into the soup, do assignments, and “build” on what I did in residential treatment. First of all, doesn’t T. have assignments or ideas of his own on how to treat us without cheating and looking at the assignments and work completed in Res. Treatment?

Secondly, he brought up a comment we have made many, many times before. The comment is basically that we would rather be sick so we can get attention. What can I say? I’m pathetic.
But the more I thought about it the more it stuck in my craw. Anyone with an eating disorder knows how fucking miserable it is. We’re done with it. I can’t say some are committed more than others, but we know we need help and realize how important at this point to listen to a treatment team….at least one that you trust. What a low blow to say fundamentally say res. treatment is contraindicated b/c we want/need attention. Excuse the fuck out of us for never receiving anyone growing up and trying to make up for it now. BUT I will say this, there is nothing comforting or soothing about the attention you get in an eating disorder or trauma program. My res. treatment was nothing but hard work and tears and bad moods. For me to suggest the possibility of going back can ONLY indicate how much we’re hurting and how desperate we’ve become.

We hid the patches. Ha ha ha!

Lastly, T. also argued that we couldn’t live in res. treatment all our life. Well, whoopty-freaking-duh!!! When did we ever see that as an option? We gave our cons as being away from D. and god-daughters. We don’t want to go to res. treatment, but we also don’t want to live like this ever again. Enough. But being so determined here in Georgia doesn’t mean it can be done on our own, even with excessive therapy appts., dietitian, and Dr. psycho-iatrist.

So, we’re at a crossroads in so many ways. How do we know what to do? Go to res. treatment, stay home and continue treatment with current T., stay home and find new T., just say fuck it all and spend another two hours straight on the elliptical? I don’t have the answers, but I sure didn’t like leaving the T. office today more screwed than I already am.

When I think on these matters it makes me feel so utterly hopeless and helpless. D. is convinced we will kill ourselves. He’s resigned to that fact. I don’t want that to happen. I just want to feel better.

So sue me if the only place we felt better and hopeful was in res. treatment. As Timmons said in Dances With Wolves, “Put that in your book.”