Yesterday morning seemed as long and unending as the dark blue waters of the ocean. It began with me being dragged to my psychiatrist for an incredibly early 8 am appointment. In his clinical-appearing, disheveled office, I was weighed and interrogated. Now let me get this straight, my shrink is pretty caring guy. I know he only wants me to get better, but when people start asking me things like “how did you challenge yourself since I saw you last?” or “have you tried any new foods?” I get a little threatened. Mostly because I just don’t know how to answer them and even if I did, I don’t think I would trust him enough to tell him such details . . .
After my shrink conducted his through investigation, I was free to leave. Believe me, by this point, I was absolutely desperate to do something I enjoyed. That way at least one of the final days of summer would be relatively pleasurable.
So I did something I rarely even attempt to do. I asked my mom to take me shopping and to my surprise she actually ceased doing her tedious job tasks and took me! We stopped at a few thrift stores and I found a cute lime green bohemian top. Then we headed over to Old Navy where I was able to find some cute skirts and tops. I will admit I did get a little anxious. I kept thinking that when I would try on the clothes they wouldn’t fit. Not because they would be too tight, but they would be too big. My mom gets upset I think when clothes that should fit, make me look like I am wearing an oversized potato bag. I believe it is then that she realizes that I am still struggling. But it’s not like I can get better overnight. Recovery is a process, not a quick fix. I just got to keep reminding myself that so I don’t get discouraged when I see the pain on my parent’s face.