These mornings, when I’m roused awake beside the boy, I want to hug him close to me. It’s nice to wake up next to someone. The boy said, of course. He told me but I’ll never be alone and he gestured towards my heart.
This morning I remember waking up next to my mother in the many years I slept beside her, and shifting myself closer to her side of the mattress. When I wake up next to someone I’m always anxious. I wake up alone and I either feel lost, morose or — rarely — good. When I wake up with another person beside me though, I’m always a little afraid. I need to touch them to ease it — I’m so scared I want to cry. I used to think about losing my mother to time a lot. I don’t think about that with the boy. We’ll grow old together. But the depressing anxiety is all the same. Sometimes I hug the boy close even though I know the movement and touch will rouse him. Sometimes I rest arms against his back.
I had my first appointment with the psychologist, Z, on Friday afternoon. There was a last minute cancellation and the boy’s Mum headed down to the clinic with me. She asked me, are you doing this for J? I told her I am. I cried in the corner while we waited for my turn. I’m glad she was with me.
I don’t want to be here. Z said I kept repeating that I’m doing this for my boyfriend, to get my parents and the pdoc off my back; but what about yourself? I explained to her how I can’t do it for myself. I asked her, can you only treat my depression and not my eating disorder? For instance, can you treat my perfectionism? Not perfectionism towards my body but towards my art, grades and friendships? She said it’s hard but she can try. Why? Z said, because if you can’t get the perfect body then you’ll want to perfect something else, like school. She makes sense. But she says she can try. I just have to be ready and want recovery. She says there’s no point if I don’t want this. Z said, it’s alright, we can focus on your other problems first. What problems? For instance? She said, your anxiety. She said I have a lot of anxiety. Anxiety about what? She said, you know it. I was lost. No. She said, your anxiety about people leaving you; your anxiety about growing up. Oh.
She confirmed that I have borderline personality disorder — so after these two decades, it’s finally official.