Before you read this, know that this isn’t going to be fair. So, before I write all the negative, poisonous, unfair things swimming round my head, know this – I know that you do more than your best, every day. I know that you won’t ever purposefully hurt me. I know that this is something we will move on from, because we always do. I also know that I love you more than I ever intended or anticipated, and because of that I will fight to work through anything and everything, if it means we can keep this relationship – the most healing, safe relationship I have ever been a part of, as a child or an adult.
Argghhh I’m so pissed off with us seemingly never being in regular sessions at the moment 😦 it feels like, since Christmas, we’ve always either been preparing for you to be away, trying to cope with you actually being away, or rebalancing after you’ve been away. I can’t remember what it feels like to be sat with you without a slightly uncertain feeling in my stomach. That’s my attachment crap, and it’s my fault, but it’s also my reality and I am tired of being constantly uncertain. I just want you to stay still, to be here and not be going away or having operations or doing things that are more important than me…
…which is what this rant boils down too. You are never far from me – our relationship is how I have the strength to live my life, go to work every day, meet friends, start to date, eat every day… I use our connection, the stability of it, to take risks of instability. When I know that I am safe with you, it makes it easier to take a risk with a new job or a new boyfriend – because I can feel the safety net of you underneath me. If I fall, I know it’s not that far until I land back with you – that you catch my falls. I know, of course, that in reality you are significantly more important to me than I am to you, and though that physically aches sometimes I can just about ‘sit with it’… until suddenly you’re on holiday, on a course, having operations, on holiday again… a million and one things that are happening to you, or around you, that are more important than me. I want to be the most important thing in your world – I want to be your every thought because that’s just where I am right now – if you would let me live tucked under your ribcage then I would. I want to be your most important person. But your email on Friday was a really stark reminder that not only am I not your most important person, but I’m so far down your list that yet again I’ve filled my diary with sticky notes showing when you can’t be with me, when I need to change sessions etc… yet again the next few months in my diary are littered with examples of days and weeks when you have something you need to be doing, that stops you from being with me.
I know that I have no right to be getting shitty about you having another operation – you and Little can deal with the ‘you’re going to die’ stuff when we next meet, but clearly surgery is something that has to take priority and that’s that. I don’t have a right to be getting upset about it – but I am. Which then makes me HATE myself, despise myself for feeling this way, and those feelings lead to feelings of needing to punish myself or harm myself to make this right… because I’m getting upset over something I have no right to be upset about. I said to E this morning that, now the initial panic has passed, I’m more upset about the week you can’t do and haven’t given me a reason for – just need to move to earlier. That’s fine, you have a life so much bigger and greater than me but ARGH. I just want to be a priority to you.
I’m absolutely terrified that you’re getting busier and more things are happening for you and I’m falling down your list of priorities. You work incredibly hard and I know you are always spinning a million plates at once – but I feel like maybe you’re deciding you can’t keep them all spinning and you’re starting to put them down. Moving our sessions to earlier, weeks you can’t do, holidays… they all feel like reasons or excuses that will lead to me being dumped and you moving on without a backwards glance. You tell me at least one hundred times a week that you won’t leave me, but this feels like the pre-cursor to being left. Fuck, I’m terrified you’re leaving.
I’m also cross that when I put R into our slot, you really weren’t impressed – even though it was a one off. I prioritise you over absolutely everything, because I don’t breathe, eat or sleep without you – but the one time that I did need to change it didn’t feel okay. And then on Friday I get an email full of changes to our usual slots and of course, they’re fine, if you wanted to see me at 3am I would do it, because you matter to me and my sanity. But you didn’t like it when I replaced our slot with R, and I really don’t like it when I’ve been replaced by other things that are more important to you. Again. For what feels like the millionth time since Christmas.
This is a pathetic, bratty, spoilt email full of my own failings and inadequacies and I know that. I know that. And I know that tomorrow, either I will completely forget how to be cross with you because I will be so distracted by an overwhelming need for you to sit with me and read me stories and remind me that we’re okay, or Sass will take over and it will be an absolute nightmare, and I will leave without the comfort I really need. I know I’m being a spoilt brat about this, and don’t worry, I am already hating myself and punishing myself enough for feeling this way. But I can’t help it. And I wanted you to know, before we sit down together tomorrow, in case all these feelings get pushed aside by Sass’ anger at the world or Little’s blind panic that you are going to die. Because if, tomorrow, Sass rolls her eyes at you and tells you that “it’s fine” or “whatever”, you need to know it’s not fine, or whatever. Fuck, T, it’s not. I hurt. My eyes have just welled up writing that, and I’ve swallowed them back down and rearranged in my seat so I can sit tall and create the illusion that I’m fine. But I’m not fine. I’m useless and pathetic, I know that, but I’m also fucking terrified of you leaving me, and of how I am supposed to cope for another 3 months of uncertainty, when the last 5 have hurt too much already. How do I make myself okay with something that isn’t okay, but has to be?
It’s not fair. I know it’s my fault, not yours, but it’s not fair. I hurt.