One last session - 1

Yesterday, Monday the 20th of April, was the day of all days. It was my last session with Diann. The day I thought I would never get to be apart of. In a lot of ways it was the day I never wanted to be apart of - that last session. So good and so freeing but yet so final and therefore so sad. To extremes that all came into one. The extremes all being felt at the same time. Not wrecking the head and not being a burden. More good than bad, and more happiness than grief.

It had been 4 weeks since I seen her last. The time in between these 2 sessions was a great time. It was a time when so much happened. I've experienced so much happiness and continued to leap forward by feeling better and better each week. I had already started to step away from the sessions. I had already made myself live a life, without needing to lean on Diann at the drop of a hat. I knew I needed to start stepping away, or else I'd have felt lost without her. It would have been like a smack in the face. The past 4 weeks, was the longest time I've been in Ireland, without referring too much to Anna. 4 weeks can be a relatively short period of time but in my current situation I class it as being long. I haven't referred to Anna in my daily life anymore. Yes, in my sleeping hours, or in my hours of stress or in my hours of writing. But in relationships, living, planning and looking forward, Anna was not there. The first 4 weeks, in such a long time, that I didn't have to talk and consider how my life was going related to being tangled with my relationship with food. Because it's all normal. That's why yesterday it felt strange to sit there and tell her some of the feelings I had around food. I didn't want to have to do that anymore. I didn't need to do that anymore. It felt unnecessary and suddenly Diann wasn't my therapist anymore.

We chatted, we looked back over the my time in Ireland and we looked forward. But it was different. I didn't feel I was there to receive her services any longer. I wasn't there to lean on her. I was there to share my joy, my happiness, my thoughts. That's all. She didn't need to say anything regarding the eating disorder. The only thing she said, as I know I'd had 1 or 2 moments where thoughts tried to creep in, was: "Those thoughts are only lapses, and it doesn't mean you're not recovered. Don't start doubting yourself when really you know there's no place for doubt within you, any longer". (Or something along those lines). For Diann not to need to say anything that I don't already know, was refreshing as well as the fact that I looked at her, no longer as a client, but more as a friend. This doesn't strike me as being odd, because I never thought that I would still need her. But to still experience it, was uplifting.

We spoke about the road that we chose to take, or more to the point, that Ma chose for us to take, with regards to my recovery. Going to hospital and being force-fed, without having any control whatsoever, and without having any therapy, until weight was gained, wasn't meant for me. The opportunity never arose and Diann was brought upon our path, as Ma desperately searched the internet for help, before it was too late. And that's how it was meant to go. It was the best option for me, no matter what others apparently said and no matter how ill I was. From the beginning I was told how much more confidence I would gain from overcoming anorexia without being hospitalized. It frustrated me to hear, and I didn't want to agree with it. Because not getting myself ill enough to go into hospital, I saw me as being a weak failure. It was a let-down. I needed and wanted so much, to get as ill as possible, just to see how far I could go. So such phrases like "gaining confidence" or "being stronger for it in the end" or "still being in control" all fell on deafs ears back then. But not anymore. I'm delighted to have not gone to hospital. I'm chuffed that I put the weight back on, at my own pace. I'm ecstatic that Diann was brought to us. I thankful for path this journey has taken.