I am over the top anxious again. I was all calmed down and then I went to therapy today. Lots of stuff happened in therapy. We talked about grief and the project I did on grief. We talked about how I am changing my life and not following in the abusers’ footsteps. We talked about how I am working on even changing my body. I am fat, and I’ve been truly fat since I was about 16 years old. Although, my mother withheld food from me all of my life because apparently getting fat would be the worst thing in the world. (I’m pretty sure that my parents physically, sexually, and emotionally abusing me was the worst thing in my world). I think I got fat to protect myself. I didn’t want people wanting sex from my body. So I got fat. But it was a double-edged sword. Because my parents ridiculed me and humiliated me regarding my weight, what size clothes I wore, what I ate. My mother talked to all of my friends about my size. I’m 49 years old and she talked to my best friend last year about my size. She’s not worried about my health, she is worried about what it looks like to have a morbidly obese daughter. Well, she is not going to have a morbidly obese daughter for much longer. I’m in the process of getting ready for gastric bypass. I’ve lost weight and gained weight over and over, and now I finally figured out that I need some extra help. I need to stop stuffing that kid inside me. I need to stop feeding her all of the junk she demands. I need to stop trying to shut her up by feeding her. I also need to be around for my three adopted sons. They are little, and I am old enough to be their grandmother. As we were talking about the changing my body today, I started having flashbacks of when I was a young teenager and when my mother thought I had eaten too much or had eaten junk food, she would force me to take syrup of ipecac. It was horrible. She hated when her kids puked. She didn’t want to clean vomit up. We had one bathroom. I was not allowed to throw up in a garbage can or a bowl. It had to be the toilet. It was very scary and anxiety producing. While I was having these flashbacks today in therapy, my feet were stomping the floor and my hands were balled up in fists. MT, my therapist, kept saying I was angry and it is part of the grief process and that i need to express that anger. That scared me and produced lots of anxiety for me. I’m afraid of being angry. It seemed to me that my parents were always angry. I don’t want to be them. Ugh. I’ve taken xanax again. I keep trying to focus on my breathing. I stopped taking buspar several months ago. I’m starting to wonder if I need it again. I have an appointment with my psychiatric nurse practitioner tomorrow so we will talk about it. The other thing about this anxiety that I think is making it so intense is that I used to eat when I was anxious. Now I can’t. I’m on the practice diet for gastric bypass to prove that I can stick to an eating plan. I’ve lost 19 pounds in 4 weeks. So far so goid sticking to it. I’ve tried exercising in place of eating with this anxiety, and it helps some. But I think the bot being able to eat away this,anxiety is making me even more anxious.