Metamorphosis: Chapter 14
| June 13, 2023“And,” she continues, “that’s why I decided to become a therapist myself.”
Afterward, I think about explaining to Esther how I felt. I practice with my reflection. It takes a few tries but I figure out how to clearly formulate my feelings.
I think about all the times that I fall apart when my mother doesn’t get me. I decide that next time I’ll put thought into it and then calmly clarify my position. I’m building my emotional maturity. I look at the quote on my wall that says: “You don’t know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.” Then I finger my necklace. I think of all I’ve been through. I’ve slowly been discovering my inner strength.
Today, it hit me that I really have OCD. I mean I’ve known I have OCD for a couple months already but now it’s really hitting me. More like punching me. In the heart. What’s wrong with me that I have OCD? I know I have to make sure no one ever finds out.
It’s not the first time my diagnosis bothered me, but until now I mostly felt relieved. I had been weighed down by the belief that I was beyond hope, and when I found out I had a real and treatable condition I felt a couple of tons lighter. Now, though, I’m upset about the whole thing. Why did I have to have issues altogether? Why couldn’t Hashem make me normal? I cry for a long time over the girl I was who is gone. Now I’m gonna be tainted forever.
My parents and therapist are adamant that OCD is nothing to be embarrassed about.
“It is not in your control,” Esther says.
Easy for her to say. She doesn’t have a mental illness.
Until she shocks me.
“Actually, I had an eating disorder as a teen,” she says.
What?!
“And,” she continues, “that’s why I decided to become a therapist myself.”
I see butterflies gliding toward the sky.
But then we discuss my feelings anyway and she totally validates anything I feel.
“It’s a journey to acceptance and overcoming the shame,” she tells me. “It took me years just to be okay with myself along with my challenges.”
I feel much better.
We’re having our last practice — from ten to late at night in Meirav’s house. There’s tons of food and blasting music that has nothing to do with our dance. Then Tehillah sets up a slideshow with dance memories and we play Scattergories.
Around midnight we start a kumzitz. Then we end up DMCing. Sometime around one a.m. someone pushes Meirav to the front to “tell her story.” I didn’t even know that perfect Meirav had “a story.” It seems to be common knowledge, though, because Shaindy says she’s heard part of it before.
First everyone claps but then the room goes silent. Meirav smiles at everyone and starts speaking.
“So it started three and a half years ago in the beginning of ninth grade, when all of a sudden I started wearing short skirts and putting on a full face of makeup every day, even to school. I decided that my wardrobe was outdated and I threw everything out in one day. My parents were freaking that I was going off the derech but as quickly as the stage came, it left. We bought new clothes and forgot about it. Then a week later I climbed into bed and wouldn’t get out. My parents thought I had the flu or something. Then one day I jumped out of the window in the middle of class. I was sent home, where I decided to redo my room and paint the walls red. I stayed up all night to finish.
“My parents are incredible, but it was still hard for them to admit that something might be wrong. Who wants to think that their daughter has ‘issues’?”
“Well, eventually they took me to a professional and I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.”
to be continued…
(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 965)
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