When I started seeing my regular therapist when I moved to Minnesota, I had been diagnosed as having PTSD. Something I had probably carried around since I was seven years old. I had been working very hard over the last five years to overcome some of the things that had haunted me my whole life. It would be interesting to see a new perspective. I signed up for the three required psychotherapist visits in March 2016.
Working with someone new is always interesting, and part of the process is rehashing your life (again). They want to make sure you’re stable, you’re cognizant of what’s coming, and you are capable of making significant lifestyle changes. Along with the three visits, you have to take a 600 question, three-hour long test. The questions were odd I have to admit. They cover all kinds of areas; anger management, stress management, alcohol, drugs or previous substance abuse, sexual habits, whether or not I am heterosexual or homosexual. It also talked about familial relationships; whether or not I was friends with my birth parents. I saw a little bit of everything in those 600 questions. I answered them as honestly as I could and completed all of my visits and patiently waited for the results. Was I going to get a green or red flag?
I received my final report March 17th, 2016. It was about ten pages long, expressly written to the insurance company. It explained all about me and whether or not I was a good candidate. The report itself was a little boring, but there was at least one significant takeaway. On a scale of 1-10, one being low probability, ten being high probably, I scored a one on symptoms of PTSD. I showed no signs of PTSD. Could PTSD be cured? Obviously, therapy was the best decision I ever made for myself, but I had not realized so many things had changed over that five year time. I beat something? I conquered it?
The result of the three visits: “This patient has been cleared to proceed”. No further counseling or education sessions are necessary”. It was a green flag.
I was overjoyed but at the same time still not fully embracing the lifestyle changes. Perhaps I was just stubborn.
I had my first breakthrough in April. My therapist told me that I needed to let go of fears and emotional attachments when it came to my body. Apparently, the weight had become an attachment for me. One that I was very fearful of letting go. However, I knew other things might be easier for me to attack first. The first one was my hair.
My hair. Pretty silly huh? I always had long hair. I am not sure why other than I always received compliments on my hair. I felt like if I cut it off, I would have nothing. I had convinced myself that it was the only thing beautiful about me. If it got cut, my beauty was gone. I did not feel beautiful right now, so I figured what the hell? Might as well get it over. I’m going to cut my hair, look ugly and feel just as ugly. F**k it right?
It took me a couple weeks, but I remember sitting in that stylist’s chair thinking to myself, “what the hell are you doing?” I had to work through this idea that my hair was somehow connected to what makes me beautiful. It was hard {{laughing}} but I embraced the change. In fact, when it was all off I could not believe how good my head felt. I love how it only takes 20 minutes to blow-dry and round brush, and I could be ready much quicker. Who knew I would like it more? Honestly, It was a weird sense of freedom.
I had not quite gotten to this point with my body, but it was a good start. All I needed to do was embrace the idea that my fat is not who I am. More difficult…. but doable.
