Two Years with GP


Last year’s post:

So, today marks two years of working with GP. It feels unreal that it’s been that long – having him in my life is such a blessing and I can painfully remember the time before – but it also feels too short, too, for all we’ve achieved in that time. Life has been truly remarkable since that first appointment.

I wrote a lot last year, and everything I said then is still true. He still models safe boundaries, explicit consent, and he still works with the utmost integrity and respect for me and whatever is happening for me. He still makes me laugh (even when things feel absolutely hideous). He is still Little’s first definition of what safe men will be like (although now she has a safe man in my partner, too). He still makes me feel truly blessed by his presence in my life, every time we speak. 

What has struck me recently, as we reached two years, is the security his permanence gives me. In our first year of working together, I was still very much bouncing from crisis to crisis, with very little downtime. This year has been different. Not perfect (I am never going to be perfect!) but less chaos and more calm. More conversations about physical health rather than mental health. More conversations about keeping my mental health balanced, rather than trying to stop me killing myself or at least harming myself. My secure attachment to GP has developed even further because of this shift. When I’m harming and hysterical, there is a professional responsibility to ensure I’m okay. I spent many years not really wanting to ‘get better’ because I knew that getting better would stop the professionals from working with me – being healthy meant being alone. For a very long time I had no ambition to learn to cope because professional intervention felt like love. 

This year, I’ve ‘got better’ – and GP hasn’t left. He feels permanent. There is nothing more beautiful to Little than someone who stays, permanently – she constantly chews her nails and twists the ear of her stuffed rabbit with worry that she will be left alone – but she trusts GP. She still worries about external problems, like that he will die or be killed – but she doesn’t worry so much anymore that he will leave us.

He has an almost unique ability to meet us where we are. If it’s tears and panic, or excitement and happiness, we meet there. He is as able to be a calm support in the face of heavy sobs as he is of being a cheerleader at moments of pressure, or of celebrating in moments of success. He doesn’t recoil from anything, or push for a different emotion – and his ability to sit in the space with me, no matter how painful or uncomfortable, is magic. He doesn’t scare Little by trying to make her feel something different – she trusts him that he is standing by her, no matter what. I trust him, too. 

I hope the next year brings much of the same – less chaos, more calm. I know that this shift in my life is, in huge part, due to the stability and security of my attachments developed with some wonderful people. This year has already been full of excitement with a new relationship and new house. Two years ago today, I was looking for an out. Today, I can’t wait to see what excitement is coming up next.

There really is no way to say thank you adequately. Thank you for saving my life? Thank you for helping my build my life? Thank you for holding my hand through everything? Thank you for putting up with me through everything?! Thank you for being you? Maybe that’s it. Thank you for being you, for another year. Thank you for helping me to be me, for another year. Thank you. 



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