The Grapes of Wrath

Tess is annoying.
I mean that in the nicest way possible, because I do really really like her.
But we talk about lots of stuff, boys, etc., and she’s basically all: yeah, we can talk about other stuff, but we’re going to bring it back to the food.  Yeah, no, really, the food.
Yeah, I think she’s pretty awesome.
Yesterday I cried when she emphasized that my anxiety/bad feelings/etc. about Emma’s birth, and my feelings about Emma, are two totally different and separate things.  The same with her conception.

Then there’s my dietician, Jenny*.  I really like her, too.  She has a bit more of a gentle touch than Tess, but both are effective in their own ways.
Today I cried over a grape.

That’s right, one tiny little grape.


Yep, it was a red one, too.  I almost always buy the green.

So I was asking about mindfulness, and mindful eating.
“Be Mindful!”  What the hell does that mean, anyway?  So she asked if I’d be willing to practice with a grape.

She walked me through all of the senses (ok, except sound).  What does the grape look like?  What does it feel like?  (This was where I first got tripped up, and couldn’t think of any words to describe the texture, she suggested smooth, I said yeah, smooth, and a little wrinkly.)  What does it smell like?  (Uh, a grape?)

Then she asked me to put it in my mouth, and not bite it, but roll it around for 5 seconds.
That’s where I started to cry.  I told her I really wanted to bite it and make it go away.
My anxiety level was through the roof.  I’m not entirely sure what was behind that anxiety… shame?
I don’t know what’s behind all that, but clearly there’s something big there.  I imagine we’ll keep digging until we figure it out.

So, yes, today I cried over a grape.

OH YEAH.  Yesterday was also the reprocessing part of the EMDR about my birth trauma.  I think it was helpful, but we didn’t finish.  Which is kind of frustrating, because we only have one more session before he goes on vacation… which I’d hoped to be able to use for, I dunno, actually talking about shit?  Good thing I have a second therapist. 😛


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