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How Brave You Are
Aug. 6th, 2002 01:19 amI don't feel like writing but as per usual I feel obligated to. It has been an angry couple of days for me. People have been pissing me off left and right and it is having a major effect on my mental and emotional processes. Let me re-cap for you.
1) Saw Dr. Jonas again on Saturday and the guy totally crossed a line, confirming once and for all what a blazing putz he is. I was telling him about my bad self-esteem and self-image and how I've never thought I was pretty and attractive. He asked me what I'd like to look like and I went into a list of rather trivial things I would like to change about myself; I wish my hair weren't frizzy, I wish I could lose the 30 pounds I gained this year, I wish I was taller. None of these dislikes in and of themselves bother me. I don't hate myself because I'm 5'3 150 pounds and have big hair. I hate myself because experience has conditioned me to and I need to revamp my thinking process and get a more realistic view of myself.
You'd think a 200 year old psychiatrist would know this. Guess not because after I got through telling Jonas about my chronically low self esteem he said to me, "Maybe you should go on a diet." WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!! A patient just tells you that she hates every part of herself and you confirm that hatred by telling her she isn't good enough just the way she is? I'm sorry but that is the single most fucked up thing any shrink has ever said to me, and I've seen alotta shrinks in my life! And although I may view myself as fat because my self-image is so far outta whack, the truth is I'm not. I'm only 9 pounds over weight for my height. That is not fat. I mean one must take into consideration that when I was 125 I was on the lower side of heathy weight for someone my height, thus in gaining 30 pounds I did not become overweight. I'm still a good weight. Plus, I have an hourglass figure so most of the weight balances itself out in my chest and hips which only aplifies my already pronounced curves, just making me look sexier. So in short, Jonas had absolutely NO cause to tell me to go on a diet, because healthwise there really is no reason, and since my self-esteem issues do not rest on my weight there is no reason to make that the primary focus of my emotional work. Basically instead of telling me what I already know, that my self-view is very distorted and that I should work on accepting myself as I am, the idiot told a girl who confessed to hating herself, that she was fat. Very bad show Dr. Jonas, very bad show.
2) I am now feeling very hostile towards Aurelie. I feel she is sticking her nose into business that doesn't concern her. Last night after my mom went to bed SHE confronted me on reading so many books about depression! She thinks that reading books about depression makes me focus too heavily on it and focusing on my illness all the time is just making me more depressed! Again I say, WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! I may not be fully recovered but just take a look at all the journal entries that come after my hospitalization. Those are a concrete testament that my mood has dramatically improved since I got out of St. Vincents, and that the books I am reading, rather then causing me to grow more depressed, are giving me idea about how to create new coping strategies and how I can raise my self esteem and self awareness. I felt the same way I did when mom got on my case about it, that she can in no way make that judgement without reading the books. Imean these are SELF-HELP book for crying out loud! THey are written to empower people and lift their moods, not to stifle them with pain! Her assumption seemes to be that any discussion of depression is negative which is SO not true. Aand she got on my case about not going out drinking with her, or to parties with her and her friends even though she always invites me. When i explained that it's because I don't drink and get anxiety in large crowds, she didn't seem to hear it. She chalked it all up to my unhealthy obsession with my disease. This all pised me off because even though we live together, we are not friends. She is not my confidante my buddy or my friend. She is a person renting a room. As such I felt she had absolutely no right to confront me on an issue she only has the most basic information about. To think that she knows enough about me to give uninvited opinions about my situation was terribly thick of her. I'm ready for her tomove out now.
3)And today I got called for jury duty. That in and of itself does not piss me off. Now instead of sitting at home all day for free I get to sat around all day at the criminal court building for 5 bucks an hour. Pretty sweet if you ask me. But I had to go down to the financial district and it was my first visit down there since the WTC came down. I could never bring myself to go before, I wasn't ready to see it. But at lunch time I walked over to Chambers St. and headed over towads the wreckage. The first thing I noticed was the smell. Lower manhattan does not smell the same anymore. Theres this strong scent of decay in the air. It is pungent, and saturates every building, every person. Walked over to Fiterman Hall, and it wasn't there. Just as the reports said, the whole thing had collapsed. It looked like someone had taken a knife and simply cut away that entire half of the block. I spent so much time in Fiterman when I was at BMCC. It was a refuge for me. I would go to the computer lab everyday and read encouraging emails from Gayle and Tina and Melly and Heather. Seeing it gone nearly made me cry. And then I saw the construction beyond it. There it was. This big open sunny dirt field. Nothing but cranes, and construction workers. No big towers that make you dizzy when you look up at them. No big shady spots to sit and read a book. My head started screaming and i cursed the barricades they had set up everywhere because all I wanted to do was get closer. I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I wanted to touch the dirt. I wanted to walk across the land and make note of where the Borders used to be, where the 1oo year old cemetary I used to walk by used to be, where the court yard where they once held a protest against the WTO once was. I wanted to touch places I had touched before. But I couldn't. That made my heart hurt.
1) Saw Dr. Jonas again on Saturday and the guy totally crossed a line, confirming once and for all what a blazing putz he is. I was telling him about my bad self-esteem and self-image and how I've never thought I was pretty and attractive. He asked me what I'd like to look like and I went into a list of rather trivial things I would like to change about myself; I wish my hair weren't frizzy, I wish I could lose the 30 pounds I gained this year, I wish I was taller. None of these dislikes in and of themselves bother me. I don't hate myself because I'm 5'3 150 pounds and have big hair. I hate myself because experience has conditioned me to and I need to revamp my thinking process and get a more realistic view of myself.
You'd think a 200 year old psychiatrist would know this. Guess not because after I got through telling Jonas about my chronically low self esteem he said to me, "Maybe you should go on a diet." WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!! A patient just tells you that she hates every part of herself and you confirm that hatred by telling her she isn't good enough just the way she is? I'm sorry but that is the single most fucked up thing any shrink has ever said to me, and I've seen alotta shrinks in my life! And although I may view myself as fat because my self-image is so far outta whack, the truth is I'm not. I'm only 9 pounds over weight for my height. That is not fat. I mean one must take into consideration that when I was 125 I was on the lower side of heathy weight for someone my height, thus in gaining 30 pounds I did not become overweight. I'm still a good weight. Plus, I have an hourglass figure so most of the weight balances itself out in my chest and hips which only aplifies my already pronounced curves, just making me look sexier. So in short, Jonas had absolutely NO cause to tell me to go on a diet, because healthwise there really is no reason, and since my self-esteem issues do not rest on my weight there is no reason to make that the primary focus of my emotional work. Basically instead of telling me what I already know, that my self-view is very distorted and that I should work on accepting myself as I am, the idiot told a girl who confessed to hating herself, that she was fat. Very bad show Dr. Jonas, very bad show.
2) I am now feeling very hostile towards Aurelie. I feel she is sticking her nose into business that doesn't concern her. Last night after my mom went to bed SHE confronted me on reading so many books about depression! She thinks that reading books about depression makes me focus too heavily on it and focusing on my illness all the time is just making me more depressed! Again I say, WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! I may not be fully recovered but just take a look at all the journal entries that come after my hospitalization. Those are a concrete testament that my mood has dramatically improved since I got out of St. Vincents, and that the books I am reading, rather then causing me to grow more depressed, are giving me idea about how to create new coping strategies and how I can raise my self esteem and self awareness. I felt the same way I did when mom got on my case about it, that she can in no way make that judgement without reading the books. Imean these are SELF-HELP book for crying out loud! THey are written to empower people and lift their moods, not to stifle them with pain! Her assumption seemes to be that any discussion of depression is negative which is SO not true. Aand she got on my case about not going out drinking with her, or to parties with her and her friends even though she always invites me. When i explained that it's because I don't drink and get anxiety in large crowds, she didn't seem to hear it. She chalked it all up to my unhealthy obsession with my disease. This all pised me off because even though we live together, we are not friends. She is not my confidante my buddy or my friend. She is a person renting a room. As such I felt she had absolutely no right to confront me on an issue she only has the most basic information about. To think that she knows enough about me to give uninvited opinions about my situation was terribly thick of her. I'm ready for her tomove out now.
3)And today I got called for jury duty. That in and of itself does not piss me off. Now instead of sitting at home all day for free I get to sat around all day at the criminal court building for 5 bucks an hour. Pretty sweet if you ask me. But I had to go down to the financial district and it was my first visit down there since the WTC came down. I could never bring myself to go before, I wasn't ready to see it. But at lunch time I walked over to Chambers St. and headed over towads the wreckage. The first thing I noticed was the smell. Lower manhattan does not smell the same anymore. Theres this strong scent of decay in the air. It is pungent, and saturates every building, every person. Walked over to Fiterman Hall, and it wasn't there. Just as the reports said, the whole thing had collapsed. It looked like someone had taken a knife and simply cut away that entire half of the block. I spent so much time in Fiterman when I was at BMCC. It was a refuge for me. I would go to the computer lab everyday and read encouraging emails from Gayle and Tina and Melly and Heather. Seeing it gone nearly made me cry. And then I saw the construction beyond it. There it was. This big open sunny dirt field. Nothing but cranes, and construction workers. No big towers that make you dizzy when you look up at them. No big shady spots to sit and read a book. My head started screaming and i cursed the barricades they had set up everywhere because all I wanted to do was get closer. I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I wanted to touch the dirt. I wanted to walk across the land and make note of where the Borders used to be, where the 1oo year old cemetary I used to walk by used to be, where the court yard where they once held a protest against the WTO once was. I wanted to touch places I had touched before. But I couldn't. That made my heart hurt.
