The toughest days have a funny way of showing you hope.
My GP (called G) referred me to psychological services a few weeks ago. A horrid woman phoned me up and asked me to come to see her for an ‘initial assessment’. She was horrid on the phone, very brusque and I immediately had my guards up against her. G has been amazing with support since I finished uni. She’s been on the end of the phone and has let me rant and she’s just amazeballs. She spoke to me yesterday to calm me down about the meeting today, which really helped.
The meeting was one of those ‘not sure whether to laugh or cry’ moments. Battleaxe pushed for a lot of details, intimate details and was very probing in her questioning. Long story short, she thinks I’m totally fruit and nuts, and I’m welcome to do anything I want with regards to services from here. I told her I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to pursue psychiatric treatment or psychological services, so she’s gone away to ask her manager what she can do with the fruitloop in room 1.
By the time my 45min of dragging through what felt like every disgusting detail of my past was done, I was wobbly and exhausted. G told me she might (only might) be able to see me briefly afterwards, and to let the desk know. So I stumbled to the desk and said in my best ‘I’m not about to melt down’ voice, “could you please drop G a message to see if she’ll see me for 2 min? I need to go and sit in my car as I’m about to have a panic attack.” The woman looked very confused! But did as I asked.
And here is where my faith in humanity was restored. G wasn’t free, she had patients. But with rather a lot of jiggling around to allow herself a few minutes, she came and sat in my car. She held my hand as I cried and told her that now I’d told, I was going to die. With our knees touching, she repeated that I’m 23, I’m safe, she won’t let anybody hurt me. We held hands right through panic, a brief stop at anger and a longer pause at sadness, until we finally came to rest at complete exhaustion. She gave me a hug as she left and a promise to keep in touch – she’s moving surgery, but to be honest she is so awesome I will consider moving too to ensure she can stay to fight the battle with me. She’ll take my number with me and ring me when she’s back from her holidays.
I am a mess tonight. This is the first major attachment kick I’ve felt in a really long time. I’m desperate for her tonight, Little is screaming for her to save us, not to leave us behind. It’s so sore, it should be a bad thing. But I feel genuinely blessed today – someone went dramatically out of their way, to help me, because they understand and they believe me and they care. She cares enough to sit in the car with a panicking 6 year old, until that child becomes 23 again. She said that she didn’t think many GPs would do this, and I laughed! Because I know most GPs wouldn’t – but neither would most people, either. It’s easy to forget there are kind people in the world. But she did, because she understands.
How completely amazing is that.