I’m talking about health. Let’s talk morea bout it. In yesterday’s post, I talked at length about eating disorders–namely, my disordered thinking. I don’t know how to go about being healthy in a healthy way. Well, that’s not exactly true. Taiji and bagua are healthy for me, and when I do them, they short-circuit that part of my brain that is constantly telling me that I have to do better and juust be better.
I don’t know how to get out of that mindset, quite frankly. Any time I try to be sensibel abouut my diet, I go off the rails in one way or another. I need to find a thearpist, but it’s so daunting. Not just because it’s hard to find a therapist in general, but because what I’m looking for seems to be the unicorn of therapists.
I took the questionnaire on Better Help, and by the time I put in everything I was looking for, they told me they had no match. That’s not surprising, but it was depressing. Here’s what I was looking for. Someone East Asian and queer. Someone who was comfortable with gender issuues, trauma, and grief. Oh, and family dysfunction. And was in Minnesota (or aware of the Minnesota ethos). There was nobody.
Of course, this was just one (lshady, I later confirmed) website, so that means nothing. I went to the Psychology Today website and had a hard time finding anyone who fit my criteria, either. I had to toss out two or three of these criteria, which didn’t feel good. I decided I really wanted someone who was East Asian, non-male, and skilled in Minnesotan mentality, family dysfunction, and grief. Oh, and a psychologist. That last one was a killer.
I really don’t think that’s too much to ask for, but it’s like looking for a needle in the haystack. I gave up in discouragement, especially given how the election went and what is going on now in this country.
I need to get back to it, though. I can tell that my depression is deepening and my anxiety is getting worst. There is a hopelessness in my soul that is not going away. It’s sad because when I died (twice), I got a renewed lease on life–and then frittered it away. Now, I’m back to where I was before my medical crisis. Well, not quite as bad, but I’m fighting the same fight. It’s not surprising because I am the same person in general, but I wish I could have held ontto that better me for a longer time.
Back to health.
Eating is my bugaboo for several reasons. I don’t know if I will ever come to grips with it. I want to be at ease with eating, but I teeter from binging to starving. I can barely taste food as I eat it, and I don’t know when I’m hungry unless I haven’t eaten for, say, ten hours. I fucked up the mechanism that is supposed to tell me when I’m hungry while dealing with my two eating disorder eras, and I have never fixed it since.
In my sixth decade on this earth, I would like to finally be free of the disordered thinking that has plagued me since I was seven. It’s gotten better over the years, bit by agonizing bit, but it’s still not where I would like it to be.