I can clearly remember that morning, waking up with a slip of hope that the Doc I was on my way to see may be the one I'd been long for - someone who could tell me what the hell was happening and what to do next in order for me to return to my glorious life.
As I prepared to leave home I glance at the mirror in the entrance hall and into the eyes of a complete stranger. Who was that old woman and why was she so sad? Her mouth had a dramatic upside down smile. I lifted my leaden arms to manually lift the corners of my mouth. No go. Down they went. It was quite shocking to see. My resting face was a reflection of a desperately sad person.
With my legs feeling stiff and heavy I shuffled off to the Doctors' office. As I made my way across the street in front of the medical building I could feel the watchful eyes of the drivers on either side of me waiting patiently for me to reach the other side of the crosswalk. What were they thinking, I wondered. Is she an addict looking for comfort? Has she escaped from the psychiatric ward, now lost and seeking some unknown friend from a past life? What a tragic soul. I was curious to see myself through the eyes of the rest of the world. Surely I didn't look as bad as I felt. Like a person inflicted with the painful mental disorder of Body Dysmorphia, was I imaging the visual impression of my pathetic expression and peculiar mobility challenges?
Arriving at the Doctors office I was greeted by a bird like elderly woman sitting at a desk in the back corner of a long, rectangular office. She sat far from the sitting area where all the crazies waited. She seemed flustered and distracted. I suspected she was cautiously avoiding opening the dangerous door of friendly banter with one of her bosses hopeless nut jobs.
When I was finally invited to join the Doc in his little cave of an office, I was directed to sit in an uncomfortable, straight backed chair which as parked off the side of his monster of a desk. I sat down with great care, worried that if I behaved badly I may end up being pegged as noncompliant or worse yet, simply a lost cause.
I was sitting so still, focused on the brilliant Doc'd every work, (whispering a silent prayer that he could and would help me out of this nightmare) that his description of the book he was currently working on was getting all jumbled up in my furry brain. It was all I could do to not lean into the stability of that mighty desk, lay my throbbing head down and close my eyes.. forever. However, I resisted and continued to watch him diligently for signs of hope.
Unfortunately his diatribe didn't end well. Once he'd satisfied himself that I understood the importance of his book, (I really didn't get it), he announced with great pride that he was going to write a whole chapter dedicated to me. Now I was really confused. How was this going to help me, I thought. He then stood to his full 5'2" frame, pulled his fine woollen waistcoat down, and with impressive authority told me I was much sicker that I thought I was. I would never be happy, infact, I'd never been happy. Not ever. In my whole life.
A chill crept over me as I held my breath and tried to comprehend this wise man's message. Just as the spinning room began to slow down he dropped a humungous tome on the dest in front of me and flipped the pages with dramatic aplomb to the reference he believed would answer all of my questions.
In retrospect I can see how proud he was of himself. Here I was a lost and frightened simple soul desperate to find help, and alas! here he was with the absolute truth only accessible to those who are wise and learned beyond my humble imaginings.
With the book open in front of me and his puffy caterpillar index finger sliding down the page I must admit even in my foggy over medicated state, I was intrigued. What is going to happen next in this place of infinite wisdom? And suddenly his hand was on my back, his hot tea breath whispering in my ear, his finger jabbing at the second paragraph of the page.. read this and tell me if you don't recognize yourself, he said in the voice of a dark, eternally confident archangel.
Masochistic Personality Disorder
Huh? Wow! Really?!l
I left this man's office that day with no hope I would ever make it through this bizarre experience and back to any semblance of a liveable life. Was this the truth? Was I incapable of being happy? Had I never been happy?
I relayed this experience to my GP and asked - am I supposed to feel worse before I feel better? He assured me that the goal was to help me feel better and that it wasn't necessary for me to go again.. he would refer me to someone else, another brilliant mind ready and willing to save me, or at the very least help me save myself. I felt it was important for me to return in person to let the Doc know I was moving on. After all he was going write a whole chapter with little old me as the central character. When I did return to deliver the sad news that his star patient was getting out of Dodge he said he was quite fine with that, nonchalantly adding it up to us not being 'a good fit'.
That was my first conscious experience of me assessing my immediate environment for the sometimes not so subtle YES or NO indicators of whether I'm headed in the right direction. I was unable, at the overwhelmingly chaotic time in my life, to plan beyond what was in front of me, which was a Doctor who may or may not be my guide through this minefield in which I felt trapped.
Although my past experiences, along with every societal myth I'd grown up believing, lead me trust that Doctor knows best, my feelings in that moment nudged me with the possibility that perhaps there was something not quite right about the Doc's perception of my reality.
In his book, THE POWER OF NOW, Eckhart Tolle writes, "If you really want to know your mind, the body will always give you a truthful reflection, so look at the emotion, or rather feel it in your body. If there is an apparent conflict between them, the thought will be the lie, the emotion will be the truth. Not the ultimate truth of who you are, but the relative truth of your state of mind at that time." (pg. 26)
In that moment of mental fragility feeling into my body to decipher whether or not I was going in the right direction was my only option. Bringing my focus to my feeling, I realized that the possibility of this professional relationship leading me back to wellness was a definite NO!
As I prepared to leave home I glance at the mirror in the entrance hall and into the eyes of a complete stranger. Who was that old woman and why was she so sad? Her mouth had a dramatic upside down smile. I lifted my leaden arms to manually lift the corners of my mouth. No go. Down they went. It was quite shocking to see. My resting face was a reflection of a desperately sad person.
With my legs feeling stiff and heavy I shuffled off to the Doctors' office. As I made my way across the street in front of the medical building I could feel the watchful eyes of the drivers on either side of me waiting patiently for me to reach the other side of the crosswalk. What were they thinking, I wondered. Is she an addict looking for comfort? Has she escaped from the psychiatric ward, now lost and seeking some unknown friend from a past life? What a tragic soul. I was curious to see myself through the eyes of the rest of the world. Surely I didn't look as bad as I felt. Like a person inflicted with the painful mental disorder of Body Dysmorphia, was I imaging the visual impression of my pathetic expression and peculiar mobility challenges?
Arriving at the Doctors office I was greeted by a bird like elderly woman sitting at a desk in the back corner of a long, rectangular office. She sat far from the sitting area where all the crazies waited. She seemed flustered and distracted. I suspected she was cautiously avoiding opening the dangerous door of friendly banter with one of her bosses hopeless nut jobs.
When I was finally invited to join the Doc in his little cave of an office, I was directed to sit in an uncomfortable, straight backed chair which as parked off the side of his monster of a desk. I sat down with great care, worried that if I behaved badly I may end up being pegged as noncompliant or worse yet, simply a lost cause.
I was sitting so still, focused on the brilliant Doc'd every work, (whispering a silent prayer that he could and would help me out of this nightmare) that his description of the book he was currently working on was getting all jumbled up in my furry brain. It was all I could do to not lean into the stability of that mighty desk, lay my throbbing head down and close my eyes.. forever. However, I resisted and continued to watch him diligently for signs of hope.
Unfortunately his diatribe didn't end well. Once he'd satisfied himself that I understood the importance of his book, (I really didn't get it), he announced with great pride that he was going to write a whole chapter dedicated to me. Now I was really confused. How was this going to help me, I thought. He then stood to his full 5'2" frame, pulled his fine woollen waistcoat down, and with impressive authority told me I was much sicker that I thought I was. I would never be happy, infact, I'd never been happy. Not ever. In my whole life.
A chill crept over me as I held my breath and tried to comprehend this wise man's message. Just as the spinning room began to slow down he dropped a humungous tome on the dest in front of me and flipped the pages with dramatic aplomb to the reference he believed would answer all of my questions.
In retrospect I can see how proud he was of himself. Here I was a lost and frightened simple soul desperate to find help, and alas! here he was with the absolute truth only accessible to those who are wise and learned beyond my humble imaginings.
With the book open in front of me and his puffy caterpillar index finger sliding down the page I must admit even in my foggy over medicated state, I was intrigued. What is going to happen next in this place of infinite wisdom? And suddenly his hand was on my back, his hot tea breath whispering in my ear, his finger jabbing at the second paragraph of the page.. read this and tell me if you don't recognize yourself, he said in the voice of a dark, eternally confident archangel.
Masochistic Personality Disorder
Huh? Wow! Really?!l
I left this man's office that day with no hope I would ever make it through this bizarre experience and back to any semblance of a liveable life. Was this the truth? Was I incapable of being happy? Had I never been happy?
I relayed this experience to my GP and asked - am I supposed to feel worse before I feel better? He assured me that the goal was to help me feel better and that it wasn't necessary for me to go again.. he would refer me to someone else, another brilliant mind ready and willing to save me, or at the very least help me save myself. I felt it was important for me to return in person to let the Doc know I was moving on. After all he was going write a whole chapter with little old me as the central character. When I did return to deliver the sad news that his star patient was getting out of Dodge he said he was quite fine with that, nonchalantly adding it up to us not being 'a good fit'.
That was my first conscious experience of me assessing my immediate environment for the sometimes not so subtle YES or NO indicators of whether I'm headed in the right direction. I was unable, at the overwhelmingly chaotic time in my life, to plan beyond what was in front of me, which was a Doctor who may or may not be my guide through this minefield in which I felt trapped.
Although my past experiences, along with every societal myth I'd grown up believing, lead me trust that Doctor knows best, my feelings in that moment nudged me with the possibility that perhaps there was something not quite right about the Doc's perception of my reality.
In his book, THE POWER OF NOW, Eckhart Tolle writes, "If you really want to know your mind, the body will always give you a truthful reflection, so look at the emotion, or rather feel it in your body. If there is an apparent conflict between them, the thought will be the lie, the emotion will be the truth. Not the ultimate truth of who you are, but the relative truth of your state of mind at that time." (pg. 26)
In that moment of mental fragility feeling into my body to decipher whether or not I was going in the right direction was my only option. Bringing my focus to my feeling, I realized that the possibility of this professional relationship leading me back to wellness was a definite NO!
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