Meltdowns

I had a good session with my shrink last night. This past week I have been more depressed than usual; obviously, my grandmother’s memorial service and the whole travelling fiasco have something to do with that. However, a lot of my problem is perceived self-image and an extreme unhappiness for how I look and feel due to my weight issues.

I’ve written about how I’m suffering from some form of ugly duckling syndrome or some such. I currently feel miserable all of the time. I am constantly aware of how terrible I look and how uncomfortable I feel. I am frustrated at not being able to find decent-fitting clothes. And I feel disappointed and angry with myself for gaining the weight in the first place.

Needless to say, all of this has weighed heavily on my mind and my need for approval and validation from my parents also came into play. When I lost all of that weight back in 2002, my parents didn’t see me for about a year. There was about a 40-45 lbs difference and my father said how proud he was of me and bragged to his friends. I guess I know that they are proud of me in other ways but I feel like I let them down somehow by gaining the weight back plus some. So, with only about 5 weeks between when I saw them this time, I guess I felt like the loss of 8 lbs should have been more visible. I felt like every bite I took was being watched and judged while I was there since they know I’m back on program and I was keenly aware of how dumpy I looked in the clothes I chose to wear over the weekend.

Anyway, on Saturday at the memorial service, my family, my grandmother’s best friend, and the nice man who volunteered his boat left the rented luncheon rooms at the yacht club to take the ashes out to “sea”. When we left, we had a table were we had put our things that seated four — perfect for the four of us, right? When we came back, two new arrivals had claimed spaces at our table. I commented to my mother that someone had taken our seats; I guess, I needed my mother to be the one to take charge and reclaim our space. My mother’s reaction was to wave it off and tell me that it’d be o.k.

But I kind of went into a panic-mode and shutdown mentally. I did not want to sit at a table with strangers without my parents. (Yes, I know I’m 34 going on 35.) There were no tables with four seats left and I really felt like someone should have been thoughtful and considerate enough to think that the family would want to sit together.

I ended up sitting in a chair in the corner, clutching my purse. I think I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights. Finally one of my grandmother’s friends noticed and asked me what was wrong or didn’t I want to sit at a table or something. I childishly told her that I really wanted to sit with my parents. I felt like I was 6 years old. However, she was very nice and she took charge and reclaimed our table for us. I was so relieved.

Now I want to tell you about another incident from the weekend before I talk about my session with the shrink.

On Sunday, I got stranded in the Atlanta airport as many of you know during the big New England snow storm. It was a very stressful end to a very stressful and depressing weekend. I really just wanted to go home and change out of my dumpy clothes (I was wearing the same clothes I’d worn on Friday) and go bra shopping — I have a theory that finding the Holy Grail of bras will help me resolve some of my self-image issues; maybe it’s best that’s all you know. Mostly, I just wanted to be home with my cats in my PJs possible wrapped in a blanket in my rocking chair.

When I got off the plane from Ft. Walton in Atlanta, I had checked the screens for my gate. At that time, my flight said it was “on time”. By the time I’d gone from Concourse C to Concourse B and got to my gate, my flight was cancelled — an hour before the flight was supposed to leave.

Delta’s way of dealling with people who need flight changes is to send them to a “courtesy” phone that dials directly to a call center somewhere — some people complained of foreign accents when using this number. The person on the other end is supposed to help reroute you, etc., and then you have to go wait in another line to get your printout of your new tickets. Well, first I had to wait for a phone; then the foreign woman on the other line was rude and she insisted that the soonest I could get out of Atlanta was Monday afternoon. She claimed she couldn’t even confirm that and that I would have to go to the ticket counter to get it confirmed. By the time I got to the ticket counter, she had apparently confirmed a flight for me but it was for Sunday at 4:55pm to Cinicinati where I would catch a plane to Portland at 9pm and get back to Portland around midnight.

So that began my long wait in the airport with the hundreds of other stranded souls. It was a long, tiring day that allowed me too much time alone to fret about how dumpy and horrible I looked and obsess about how I wanted to change into some clean clothes — I couldn’t find anywhere in the area inside the security lines that could sell me a new outfit; trust me I would have bought something overpriced just to feel better about myself. I grew very tired of having to haul my carry-on luggage, bulky coat, purse, and book around. My feet hurt, my butt hurt, my back hurt, my arms hurt and I felt like a fat cow. I was tired and cranky and after 8 hours I was ready to be on a plane on my way home.

When they finally announced to begin boarding, I was one of the first people in line. We were down the stairs and had those little pink valet tags on our carryon luggage and were about to head onto the tarmac to the plane when we were stopped by flight crew. We were sent back upstairs and told that there was a problem with the plane. It turned out some sort of flight manual was missing. They couldn’t fly without this manual and apparently you can’t just run up to air traffic control and get a new copy or something. You have to get a whole new plane. So they announced a delay until 7:30pm, which would cause me to miss my connecting flight to Portland.

The woman at the counter for my gate was extremely rude and unhelpful. She behaved as if I were an unnecessary burden on her day and actually told me that to some degree. She basically told me that all of the flights to Portland from Cincinati were booked until Tuesday afternoon and that there was no way she could get me to Portland from Atlanta. There was nothing she could do.

This was the last straw for me. All of the emotion and stress from the weekend just couldn’t be contained anymore and I started crying as I dragged my belongings once again halfway across the concourse to the “courtesy” phones. When I started talking to the woman on the phone, I had a meltdown about the whole thing and how I just wanted to go home and that I had no where to go in Atlanta and why couldn’t they have told me at 5:30am when I was still in Ft. Walton with my family that my flight was going to be cancelled and how I was coming from a funeral and this just was too much.

It took 15 minutes, but the very nice lady on the phone got me the very last seat on the only flight out of Atlanta to Portland on Delta ASA on Sunday night. That flight was at 8:55pm, which meant more waiting in the Atlanta airport, but at least I was going home.

Obviously, I made it home that night and obviously not everyone at Delta was rude and insensitive. I really respect the ones that acted with grace, patience, and calm.

So. What do these two events have to do with each other and my therapy?

The fact is that these two incidents were very stressful moments in my life and while I melted down in both situations, I handled them very differently. In one case, I simply shut down and couldn’t function and in the other I got upset and did something about it.

So, what should I learn from this? My shrink wanted to know how I might have changed the first situation so I got what I wanted without having to depend on someone else noticing on their own. Obviously, I should have told my mother how important it was that we sit together and I could have asked those nice people to sit somewhere else — though I felt uncomfortable doing so since it seemed petty and childish.

The truth is that when I was a kid, I was very different. I would talk to pretty much anyone. I made friends with everyone. My mother said I would charm strangers all the time.

Something happened somewhere along the way to make me withdrawn, self-conscious, and overly shy, but I’d like to have that courage I had as a child. I would like to never worry about what anyone else might think and I would like to be able to start a conversation with anyone.

I certainly would like to find a way to take charge and get what I want without melting down.

What my therapist told me is that I need to at least once a day sit down and think about the things I’ve accomplished that day rather than the things I haven’t done. It doesn’t matter how small the accomplishment. For example, rather than focus on the fact that I used the elevator 3 times, pat myself on the back for taking the stairs that one time.

So, I had a meltdown at the airport, the important thing is that I got what I wanted and needed. So, I get a pat on the back for that.

So, I feel fat and flabby, but I ate a banana instead of the cheesecake. Pat on the back.

tags: depression, dysfunctional family, therapy

One comment

1. on February 15, 2006 at 1:32 pm

   Tamara said:

   Hugs. Glad you made it home safely, and that you finally got someone to help you. Hey, sometimes meltdowns are productive!

   I’m so sorry about you feeling badly about your body. You will make progress and begin to feel better, physically and emotionally. I know you will. I’m so glad you have someone to talk to about it.

   For some reason when I pictured you in those situations, or even just sitting by yourself at home, fretting about your flabbiness, I picture you not breathing. As in holding your breath, almost, something I do when I’m stressed, have a migraine, etc. Even though I know it will make me feel better.

   Anyway, maybe you could try some breathing meditation. There are a few good CDs and I think there might even be videos. Andrew Weil, MD, has a good CD, for example.

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