Hello! It has been awhile since I posted a blog and I have some new followers, so I thought I would take some time to talk about a time when I reached out for help.
I have always had extreme body image issues and I would engage in unhealthy coping mechanisms. I had mood swings and never felt like I was in control of myself. I was in and out of therapy my whole life and nothing seemed to help. I also was given an array of medications that made me feel worse! I feel like the phrase I heard most growing up was, “Have you taken your medication, yet?” or “Are you taking your meds?” It was so frustrating to me that people thought that this medication was actually helping me. I knew it wasn’t, but no one would trust me.
Fast forward to the end of college, I went to the doctor’s and had a moment of bravery. I told the doctor I was struggling with an eating disorder. It was the best thing I have ever done for myself. The doctor gave me a number to a therapist and told me, “Call her. I will call her, too.” Normally, I would have just thrown the card away. But I didn’t. I actually called the therapist and she had an opening.
I didn’t want go to the appointment, because I was terrified. I wasn’t sure I was ready to open up to yet another therapist. I was scared she would just tell me to go on drugs and the meds would make me worse….just like they always did. But for some reason, I mustard up enough courage to drive myself thirty minutes to a new therapist’s office.
I am terrible at talking to people, especially about myself. To be honest, the first handful of my appointments were just me crying and her trying to figure out why I was even there. But eventually I started talking….not a lot, but a little. Then she started talking about something called Body Dysmorphia Disorder. Everything started to make sense. It took 23 years for someone to finally be patient and listen to me. She taught me mechanisms and things I should do when I start having my obsessive thoughts. But most importantly, she gave me back hope.
Now this obviously was not the first or last time in my life when I asked for help. But it was the first time that something actually good happened afterwards. I had told people before this point that I was struggling with an eating disorder (among other issues) and the results weren’t remotely close to pretty. I had been to therapists before and it made things worse because they wouldn’t actually LISTEN.
My point is that asking for help is ridiculously hard and getting the right help can be even harder. But please, PLEASE, don’t give up. I mostly am saying this to myself. Because it stinks to hit rock bottom and have to start all over. Trust me, I know! I have been dealing with hitting rock bottom and trying to heal again for the past two years. But I am finally getting the help I need again.
As always, thanks for reading and following my journey.
Photo Credit: Petty Nena