When i spoke to Ish regarding the previous session, i was surprised that she didn't take up my fantasies regarding the cut on my foot or my relationship with her. She instead grabbed on to the very fleeting mention of my cooking and eating which made me think that was important. Professionally important, something that had to be spoken about in a therapy session where it was mentioned.
She then asked me to do something i have often asked me lovers to do. To tell a story. Not any story. Tell the story of something you did. So like i would ask these puzzled men who had no clue what was in my head when i asked them to 'tell the story of the time you slept off while talking to me on phone,' Ish asked me to tell the story of how i had bought fish, cooked and ate it. I was reluctant. Even when i told the story i did so without much sincerity. With my lovers, i did these to collect moments, to let them know that insignificant things were significant to me, that they mattered because it was about a person i loved a lot. When i narrated the fish cooking story i realised that i had already collected that as an event in my head. I was surprised that i did not feel guilty when i narrated it. That was remarkable because i have not thought about food, any kind of food, without the feeling of guilt in years.
I told how i ate my fill and did not feel guilty of having eaten it. On the other hand, at night, i had felt guilty of eating some oreos. Ish suggested that maybe my guilt was regarding the kind of food. The kind of food i could not control, over which i had not control made me feel bad. If a packet of oreos was kept on my bed, like how Han had done, it got to decide. I had no choice but to eat. My fish curry was not like that. I had chosen to eat it and ate what i wanted, it tasted exactly like the meal i had craved for and did not leave me wanting for more. But then it also had a lot to do with the fact that my weight check after two days of fish eating did not show a bad number. [Adjectives used for weight, appearance etc, in these notes will be the normalised ones used my popular culture because here i am a victim of it.)
Food like oreo was also linked to a period of weight gain for me, the time when Mother had left for Chennai and i could buy my own food for two weeks. I bought all kinds of things from confectionery shops and stuffed myself with it. At the end of two weeks, people started telling me that i had put on weight - the most dreaded sentence in my life that could instantly topple all happiness and make me feel like a garbage can.
I wonder how i would feel regarding my dal and rice meal. I really like what i make but will i be able to have it in the same way i had my fish curry meal? Will find out in the coming week i guess. In the evening the same fish and rice made me feel guilty when i gobbled up some fish pieces with a little gravy before giving it up and throwing it in the bin. I throw a lot of things in the bin if i sense that i liked eating it. Sometimes i have imagined a situation where i ate out of the trash can because i just couldn't help it and have felt completely helpless and humiliated.
Did not feel good about eating upma in the week. I remember telling myself that whatever you do, you cannot ever eat three meals in a day. Just so that i don't forget that basic rule of my body.
As a part of trying to get me to work properly, she asked me to eat properly. I felt betrayed. She told me that my eating problem was not about food but about abuse. I felt sad, the way i feel sad when she and she alone says such things to me. Did she think i had not given these things a thought? She wanted to change all of this in a day? Did she really think that telling me that my therapist said things she had been telling me for ages, and she asking me to have a time table would solve all my problems?
I cried a lot, feeling betrayed.
And then the next day, after i submitted the video, she tried to tell me that it was not about solving things in a day. That she was trying to push me. Give me that extra push to make me want to get out of illness. I told her that i was doing that in therapy. But as usual, there was one thing that she said that struck me.
She asked me why i would not eat normal. I told her that that would result in depression, the kind i had to go through in Calcutta at one point of time. She then said that that was where the difference lay. Now, i was seeking professional help. There is a support system. So depression can be dealt with in a different way. That possibility made me a little hopeful. But i didn't dwell on it because i felt that would make me eat properly.
She also tried to talk to me about smoking. Asked me when i had started smoking. She told me that she knew i wasn't someone who thought my creative juices wouldn't flow without nicotine or marijuana or alcohol, but i definitely thought of these things - smoking, cutting body, eating poorly as support systems i could fall back on. With cigarettes, the support system concept might have waned but the addiction remained. The physicality called addiction.
We spoke about families. She agreed with me when i said that to be loved was a privilege. Broken families and other factors that resulted in a lack of support system made people like me seek smoking or abuse. We all deserve love but some of us have to work hard for it.
Ate out with Han. Guilty.
She then asked me to do something i have often asked me lovers to do. To tell a story. Not any story. Tell the story of something you did. So like i would ask these puzzled men who had no clue what was in my head when i asked them to 'tell the story of the time you slept off while talking to me on phone,' Ish asked me to tell the story of how i had bought fish, cooked and ate it. I was reluctant. Even when i told the story i did so without much sincerity. With my lovers, i did these to collect moments, to let them know that insignificant things were significant to me, that they mattered because it was about a person i loved a lot. When i narrated the fish cooking story i realised that i had already collected that as an event in my head. I was surprised that i did not feel guilty when i narrated it. That was remarkable because i have not thought about food, any kind of food, without the feeling of guilt in years.
I told how i ate my fill and did not feel guilty of having eaten it. On the other hand, at night, i had felt guilty of eating some oreos. Ish suggested that maybe my guilt was regarding the kind of food. The kind of food i could not control, over which i had not control made me feel bad. If a packet of oreos was kept on my bed, like how Han had done, it got to decide. I had no choice but to eat. My fish curry was not like that. I had chosen to eat it and ate what i wanted, it tasted exactly like the meal i had craved for and did not leave me wanting for more. But then it also had a lot to do with the fact that my weight check after two days of fish eating did not show a bad number. [Adjectives used for weight, appearance etc, in these notes will be the normalised ones used my popular culture because here i am a victim of it.)
Food like oreo was also linked to a period of weight gain for me, the time when Mother had left for Chennai and i could buy my own food for two weeks. I bought all kinds of things from confectionery shops and stuffed myself with it. At the end of two weeks, people started telling me that i had put on weight - the most dreaded sentence in my life that could instantly topple all happiness and make me feel like a garbage can.
I wonder how i would feel regarding my dal and rice meal. I really like what i make but will i be able to have it in the same way i had my fish curry meal? Will find out in the coming week i guess. In the evening the same fish and rice made me feel guilty when i gobbled up some fish pieces with a little gravy before giving it up and throwing it in the bin. I throw a lot of things in the bin if i sense that i liked eating it. Sometimes i have imagined a situation where i ate out of the trash can because i just couldn't help it and have felt completely helpless and humiliated.
Did not feel good about eating upma in the week. I remember telling myself that whatever you do, you cannot ever eat three meals in a day. Just so that i don't forget that basic rule of my body.
As a part of trying to get me to work properly, she asked me to eat properly. I felt betrayed. She told me that my eating problem was not about food but about abuse. I felt sad, the way i feel sad when she and she alone says such things to me. Did she think i had not given these things a thought? She wanted to change all of this in a day? Did she really think that telling me that my therapist said things she had been telling me for ages, and she asking me to have a time table would solve all my problems?
I cried a lot, feeling betrayed.
And then the next day, after i submitted the video, she tried to tell me that it was not about solving things in a day. That she was trying to push me. Give me that extra push to make me want to get out of illness. I told her that i was doing that in therapy. But as usual, there was one thing that she said that struck me.
She asked me why i would not eat normal. I told her that that would result in depression, the kind i had to go through in Calcutta at one point of time. She then said that that was where the difference lay. Now, i was seeking professional help. There is a support system. So depression can be dealt with in a different way. That possibility made me a little hopeful. But i didn't dwell on it because i felt that would make me eat properly.
She also tried to talk to me about smoking. Asked me when i had started smoking. She told me that she knew i wasn't someone who thought my creative juices wouldn't flow without nicotine or marijuana or alcohol, but i definitely thought of these things - smoking, cutting body, eating poorly as support systems i could fall back on. With cigarettes, the support system concept might have waned but the addiction remained. The physicality called addiction.
We spoke about families. She agreed with me when i said that to be loved was a privilege. Broken families and other factors that resulted in a lack of support system made people like me seek smoking or abuse. We all deserve love but some of us have to work hard for it.
Ate out with Han. Guilty.
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