One of the perks of being on Wellbutrin is that sometimes I have this wickedly vivid dreams. It’s great when I’m dreaming of a really hot character, like Harvey from Suits,but it’s not nearly as much fun when I have a disturbing dream.
Last night I was in rehab, surrounded by a ton of people of all different ages including kids. It was almost like a summer camp – everywhere I went there were people laughing, working on things, talking, but none were talking to me. I went to eat and there was a table with huge bagels and doughnuts and giant sub sandwiches – the sort of food that really freaks me out because it’s so carb-laden, there’s no way to make it healthy, and it disgusts me. So I couldn’t eat, but I knew they were watching me because it was rehab.
Then people were asking me personal questions because they were getting ready to go into a session where there was a test on the other participant’s history. I wanted to run, but they took my sneakers. I wanted to cut, but there was nothing to cut with. I went from bathroom to bathroom looking to purge but either they were closed for cleaning, or there were people there. There were people every place I went, but I was alone. I had no idea what to do, there was a test I didn’t know about, there was nothing I could eat, and there was no place to purge. I finally found a spot of peace and a counselor confronted me. It was all a test, the whole scenario. He badgered and bothered me in front of the group until I finally admitted what they wanted to hear.
I admitted that I was anorexic, that I wanted to run, to cut, to purge because of the test I knew I’d fail. I wanted to do all of this because I don’t fail. I don’t make mistakes like that. I always test well, it’s what I do. I kept begging them to tell me what I needed to do – to lay out the path and then I would go to the meetings, follow the steps, eat what they told me to, and I would be better. But they all laughed at me, and I woke up in a sweat.
I know that doesn’t sound terribly scary, but for me it was terrifying. The thought of failing a test, of not knowing what was expected of me, of going public, and of not succeeding at recovery is anathema. Even now, I’m still shaken up. But I realized in this awful, clear dream that this is what I want. I don’t want to have to go to rehab (I’ve never been and hope to God I never go). I want someone to lay out the steps, to tell me what to eat and when, to get better, and be done. And of course I want to do this without changing my weight or size. I really want to do all of this and drop about 3-4 pounds. I really want to do all of this and not mess up my kids, my marriage, or my career. And I don’t want anyone to know about it.
But that’s probably all about as realistic as my dream.