I was pulled out of Lottie Dottie to speak with the social worker. A part of me was reluctant, annoyed, yet another was thrilled—for the longest I’ve been wanting some sort of professional help and others have gotten a go with her except for me. She directed me to the nurse’s office, which I thought a little odd, as I wasn’t expecting more than two people to be part of the conversation. She asked first and foremost, if I have ever thought about hurting myself. Thinking in terms of the now, I answered not necessarily. She recoiled: “What do you mean not necessarily?” I decided to withhold the bit about me trying to pop Centrum one-by-one, wondering how many licks it would take to overdose. We discussed the prevalent issues that contribute to my daily feeling like crap: stress, sleep deprivation, poor diet. When it got around to how I’m eating, Ms. Stewart was on the ball, having said that “it is because thin is in.” Still, I didn’t disclose my attempts at starving myself. Not being the self-destructive type, I’ll putoff doing so until I have more thorough information on how to go about it safely (i.e. Ramadan…it seems to work out for some Muslims around that time of month). I have body image issues. Talk about irony.
We then got to talking about school and college. The social worker had heard that I’m interested in art school, and asked for more specific information as to where. Yeah, I’m really just applying to one school. Bad idea? Maybe. (I’m sending in applications to UMSL and Forest Park as well; there’s always the option of transferring.) I told them that I’m going to drop the remainder of my IB load except for art as well as DTP, some remedial stress relief. After that and some other disclosures, they confessed that it seems like I’m on top of everything and that I know what I’m doing. Damn it, keep your mouth shut next time! In all actuality, I feel like I’m making a mistake, and have no idea what I’m doing. Really, there’s only one way to find out. I need to stop relying on people so heavily to make decisions for me.
That whole session put a damper on my mood. If I wasn’t depressed going in to it, I surely was coming out. Still, she’s here every Thursday and welcomed me to come by. I might just take her up on that.