This post is a bit different in style although similar in content to my normal ones. I decided to participate in Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge: Cliffhanger. Unlike most of my writing, this story from my life will be continued by another post tomorrow. Hopefully, you will be left wanting to read more at the end of this post. So without further ado, I will commence with my tale.
Haunting my daily life, the song Another One Bites the Dust has played through my mind multiple times lately. Slowly, my care team seems to be falling away from me in this past year. The medical doctor who took over an hour to speak encouragement to me and the dietitian who refused to let my eating disorder dictate any meals both left me alone. Grieving their loss has added to my depression and anxiety.
Medical caregivers have been a constant in my life for years now. At around 10, I began to struggle with allergies significantly. After that, health issues of all sorts bombarded me. Depression, anxiety, eating disorders, PTSD, SIB, asthma, sleep problems, acid reflex, lactose intolerance, aspergers, OCD, heart problems – the list goes on and on. Being with a doctor or therapist became easier than interacting with peers.
However, the therapist who first realized my aspergers created a special bond with me. At 18 before entering college, I finally began to understand myself because of her diagnosis. Instead of seeing me as a socially awkward, naive teenager, she identified the autistic traits and struggles in my life. Everything clicked into place as I looked back on the past and realized why I acted differently than others.
Thus I owe a great deal to this therapist. She understands a part of my brain that very few other people do. Her suggestions have helped me through difficult situations. My parents respect her greatly and see her once a year to better understand how to care for me. In many ways, she is the ideal therapist for me.
The second week of December, I had an appointment with her. While yanking on my seat belt afterward, I dialed my mother on my rarely used cell phone.
“I am never ever going to see her again!” was the first thing that I uttered.
To be continued…