Day 1
It’s a sunny and hot summer day, but I’m dressed in all black because I heard somewhere that if you dress in all black therapists think you’re depressed. I want her to think I need help, every doctor I’ve seen so far has had the same reply: you’re just fine! You’re the healthiest person I’ve ever met! And yet, I feel like there’s something wrong with me, there just has to be!
I’ve gained 60 pounds in the last six months, and while everyone agrees that it’s not “normal”, nobody can find anything wrong. They’ve tested me for vitamin deficiency, hormonal imbalances, diabetes, thyroid issues, lupus, allergies, gluten intolerance, you name it. I don’t have it. I went to four different doctors just to be sure. The last one gave me a recommendation to see a shrink, so here I am.
I like giving a good impression so I dress up, just a little. My hair is straightened and I’ve put on make-up and a dash of perfume. And I’m 15 minutes early. That’s too early, so I walk around outside for five minutes, 10 minutes is appropriate so I ring the doorbell. She’s on the 6th floor, the elevator only goes to the fifth so I have to walk the last floor she says. I walk all the floors, just to show that I’m not fat because I’m lazy, look at me walking all your six floors!
The sixth floor is the loft and as I enter it feels like I just arrived on the sun. It’s so hot up there that I immediately start to sweat and of course, I just walked up six floors. Amalia meets me at the door with a big smile and invites me into her office, which is just a room filled with with a table surrounded by a regular chair, a low slouching chair, a couch filled with pillows and a whole jungle of plants. I get a feeling that this isn’t a regular therapists office, but still I instantly like her. I notice a box of tissues on the table and prepare myself for the purge.
She sits down in the regular chair and I sit in the awkward slouchy chair across from her, the couch is full of pillows and it feels like an ornament more than furniture. The slouchy chair makes me uncomfortable, like it’s forcing me to lean back and “relax” but that’s not a natural position for me. I want to show that I’m alert, prepared and professional, but instead I just feel weird. There’s a small fan there circulating stale air.
“I’ve never done this before” I say and she just smiles at me. “Well, tell me what brought you here today and we’ll go from there.” she says.
I explain my reason for coming. I am fat and the doctors can’t figure out why, so we have decided to check if it’s in my head. Depression can cause weight gain, so maybe the problem is that i’m depressed, and the weight gain is a side effect.
“Why would you think that you’re depressed” she asks. I can’t put my finger on one particular incident or thing, but the weight gain that might be a side effect is definitely also become part of the depression. If you’ve never gained a large amount of weight over a short period of time in todays instagram culture, you’re lucky. If you have, you know how damaging it can be to your self esteem and social life. I went from a size 6 to a size 14/16 and I’m now on the last sizes that HM carry in their womans section. Forget about the divided section, I grew out of those a few months back. I’m scared that I’ll have to start shopping at the “Big is beautiful2 section. Or go to specialty stores for bigger women. The fashion there is nothing like the fashion “regular” sizes have. I used to be the kind of girl boys would turn around for, but that stopped a few sizes ago. Someone at school told me my Asian side must be rejecting me, since I don’t have an asian body anymore. Like Asians aren’t allowed to be fat or something. Half Asian, Half European, what many call a mutt, halfbreed, mudblood (thanks Harry Potter).
I tell Amalia that I’m half Filipino and she immediately starts laughing. “Oh honey” she says “we are not half anything, we are all completely human, 100%!” and she just looks at me. I don’t say anything so she goes on “don’t you agree? You’re not half human, we are the same species who all live on this planet. You can be so many things, but you are not half anything!” she says.
I have to chew on that for a minute because my whole life I’ve been asked where I’m from and I always answer that I’m half Filipino and half Norwegian. It’s the only answer that seems to satisfy people. If I say I’m one or the other people always ask “but where are you reeeaaaally from, like really, like ethnically speaking” as if it’s unthinkable that I’m just one or the other. Surely I must be half something. I’ve used all the defense mechanisms for these answers. I’ve deflected, “Oh, I just came back from the bathroom” or “I grew up in Oslo”. People don’t stop digging if you deflect. I’ve over compensated and given my complete DNA test answer with the 1,1% Native american included, and 6% greek too! And 1% nigerian, and a stupid anecdote about that’s why I have such a large ass, cause I’m 1% black. I don’t particularly find it funny, but other people do and they stop asking after that.
Amalia tells me that I can use defence mechanism for these questions, I don’t have the heart to tell her that they’re all tried, and tested and I’m over it. I’ve just stopped socializing instead. “Mhmmm I’ll try that” I say. And I’m starting to wonder if therapy is what I need or if I should have just gone for the liposuction. I’ve tried personal trainers, dieticians and the works. It’s not my diet and I exercise, I do yoga, I do pilates, I bike to work and I don’t eat junk. Seriously. I wouldn’t be at a therapist office if I still had other options.
“You know,” she says, “ you don’t owe anyone an explanation or a detailed history of your genetics”. And she’s right, of course she’s right. I needed to be reminded of that. I suddenly feel like I’ve been given permission by a licensed therapist to not give a shit. It’s feels very liberating. I decide to give her other issues I’ve been dealing with that lie in the back of my head and occupy space. “I just get so irritated and I take it personally when people who are supposed to be my friends say insensitive and racist things” I say. I tell her a story about my friend who saw a BTS video and commented “How can you tell who’s who, they all look the same!” As if all asians look the same, also, not that it matters, but in the video they don’t even look similar because they have different clothing, hair colors, heights and features. Amalia looks at me with a face that says “really?” and I find myself wondering what her take on that will be. “You know that was a racist thing to say right?” she says. And I do! That’s why I’m so irritated! “I’ve had friends before who have said things like that” she said, then took off her glasses and folded her arms, “I don’t have friends like that anymore” she smirks. You have the power to cultivate your environment and you don’t have to put up with things like that. You can choose not to if you want. Another permission slip to not give a shit. I came into her office a powerless half breed with my head bowed and I feel like I’m walking out complete and with license and power to hold my head high.
“Let’s meet a couple of more times and see if we connect” she says, before we commit to anything further. I agree and set up a new time for next week. I feel taller walking out and I wonder if this is a feeling that will last.
