Dear Therapist, I Did A Bad Thing

[Listen to an audio version of this blog HERE.]

He chuckles. I love when he chuckles. Laughter is medicine, right? And a lovely distraction from the actual problem.

“What did you do that was so bad?” he asks.

“I bought appetite suppressants,” I answer, almost proudly. I know I just wasted money on apple cider gummy’s that are supposed to keep hunger at bay, but that probably don’t. I know that it was both futile and stupid, and that I don’t really have weight to lose, and that hunger cues are helpful indications that my body needs food, and blah blah blah.

But I did something naughty and I wanted him to know, which is the exact behavior that would render me a terrible murderess. I wanted to shock him, even though he’s been a therapist for many decades and has likely seen many more shocking things than apple cider gummy’s, sold for $17.99 for a pack of 60 on Amazon by an un-vetted company, shipped directly to my door in the middle of a worldwide pandemic. The real kicker is that they tasted like awful, but I digress.

The reason I wanted to shock him is so that he would pay attention to me, so that he would think there was something wrong with me, and perhaps pity me, or perhaps tell me that I really am too fucked up for words. I’m not sure. I ordered the gummy’s during my pre-menstrual…