Starting a new chapter


I don’t know whether this is normal but when I started therapy I didn’t really ever think about it finishing…I was just so focussed on doing something to stop me feeling like I did, and picturing a life without eating difficulties was impossible.

At the start going to therapy was so hard. I hated taking time out of my day to go there, I hated the awkward silences, I hated having to think about things I didn’t want to.

And then they just became an integral part of my life. I got a therapist who I got on much better with and I actually looked forward to my Saturday morning sessions. I’d get up (at what most people would call an unsociable time for a Saturday), prep for my session, get a tube in which is blissfully quiet and during which I could read a book or watch the world go buy. I’d then grab a peppermint tea from the same Pret every week and then wander over to my session. I eventually got used to having to talk about me and I always knew that no matter how wound up or stressed or confused I felt going in that by the time I came out, whilst my brain may hurt from thinking, I would have this overwhelming sense of calm, that everything was right in the world, and have a feeling that I could do anything! It is honestly one of the most empowering things! And then as I’d be in central London I’d wander round the shops, always stopping off at Whole foods before coming home. It was time just for myself.

I’ve been in therapy now for almost a year and a half. It ‘s been a big part of my life and I have so much to thank it for.

Recently though I started wondering when was the right time to stop. I’d become a healthy weight, I’d had a good period of time of pretty normal eating patterns, and I was starting to gain self-confidence in a way I never thought would be possible. I was certainly acting like someone who was doing a whole lot better and who had the tools to keep improving by themselves.

But when I actually thought about not going to therapy anymore it felt…terrifying. Lonely. Risky. There were still so many things I still wanted to improve and I was scared that I would fail without having my therapist there. I had no idea who I’d be able to talk to about all of the things going around my head. But you have to stop sometime, and it’s always going to be scary.

So I made the decision to stop. I’ve had my last lot of continuous sessions and now am going once a month up until Christmas. Stepping out of the practice from my last weekly session was tough. I felt so alone and scared and left behind. But at the same time there were feelings of excitement and fresh starts. This is the start of a life without an eating disorder that characterised my life for so many years, and I get to to do whatever I want with it. That’s pretty damn awesome.

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