I may be speaking just for myself but one of the hardest aspects of moving is finding a new care team. For mental illness it’s not just a doctor who will take your temperature, check your blood pressure or give you an antibiotic for a sinus infection.
The relationship is so much deeper and there’s so much chemistry that needs to form to feel comfortable and to have trust that you are being cared for.
Since my move to Boston in the fall, I’ve struggled (and procrastinated) to find doctors. I was hesitant about finding a new therapist and psychiatrist because I liked the ones I had back home. I half wished they would keep caring for me 5 hours away. I also think I didn’t know what kind of care I was looking for.
I’m lucky that I just found a new psychiatrist, and while $400 a session isn’t exactly what I’m looking for, I feel like he cares and has mentioned important notes that I haven’t heard about from the dozen or so other doctors I’ve met with in the past.
The other very important member of my care team is my therapist. Back home, I love my therapist. She called me on Christmas when I was in the midst of a manic episode. She allowed me to bring in my crazy dad to sessions. She would call me when I was stuck inpatient. We had a great relationship but I’m starting to think that relationship may be part of my past life. I’m in a different stage of life now, it’s as simple as that.
Now, I have a new member of my care team, a role I didn’t need before, a dietician. My dietician is great, we have a lot of similarities with athletic backgrounds and the same competitive drive that can get problematic with eating issues. I feel like she gets me. We laugh, she gives me great ideas and she validates my struggle. However, she’s not a psychotherapist, which leads me to my new hunt, a therapist with an eating disorder focus.
I’m doing my research to find the right person. I know this is what I need because I feel like many of my issues are strictly food related. And maybe these are the issues I’ve always had. Maybe they laid dormant and my family, school, work and relationship issues were the overlying issue.
Right now, I have my newest demon to battle. Food. I’m not going to lie to you, I just got into my office, after a workout, and ate left ice cream in the office freezer, which I purged in the bathroom. It’s Memorial Day weekend and I shouldn’t feel guilty about giving myself a treat when I’m working over the holiday but I do!
I feel guilty for having such a silly problem about something so common like food and eating. I feel annoying posting about this, even though I know it’s okay. But thank you everyone for reading or skimming or just hitting the like button. I appreciate you all! Xoxo