What a Difference a Year Makes

It's been an interesting year. 

Just about this time a year ago, I had a phone screen for a job that felt and sounded interesting. It would be a slight pay increase, but carry a nice title bump, and OMG the fringe benefits.

And, as I'd eventually find out, I'd move from a place where I felt like my concerns and ideas were constantly dismissed, to a place where I was seen as the National Treasure Princess who obviously knew all in the world of communications, and for the most part, was to be valued, and trusted, and never ever dismissed. 

So I've spent the past almost year in a pretty fantastic place job-wise, and being grateful every day that I moved to a place where I am truly valued, and all I have to do is voice an opinion for that opinion to be heard. And listened to.

But, I've also spent most of that past year feeling dismissed. 

One of my friends put it best when she said she suspected that former Dietitian was weirded out by the fact that I actually, you know, ate.

Because it's true. I do eat. But there are rules. And guidelines. And what I need from a dietitian is for someone to throw the data and the science at me, and help me to see how those rules and guidelines can change -- and to challenge me to do it without making me feel either like a failure, or like my concerns are simply not valid. 

And that wasn't happening. To the contrary, it was more of fluff than even art, and certainly no science. (I once asked how she knew that this was the right amount of calories. She told me I hadn't gained weight. That's ... not what I needed to hear, especially when I did start holding on to every ounce of water weight like some sort of morphing jellyfish.) When I told her what my big triggers were, at the very first session, she listened at first ... and then implemented them anyway -- only stopping when Therapist 3.0 had a Come to Jesus talk with her and explained why these were legit issues, and that I wasn't just being difficult.

I don't suffer fools gladly. And more importantly, I don't tolerate someone not listening to my voice when I actually raise my opinion. 

And I hit a point that when I realized that going to see her was actually serving as more of a trigger -- both because she wasn't listening, and was dismissing my concerns, and because I was leaving hating myself more for feeling like a failure. 

So I did what any rational person would do and fired her via email the morning after our last session.

I have choices. And I can make them.

And my life is too valuable to spend it feeling dismissed.