Thursday, July 2, 2015
He knows more about me than I know myself. He notices the way I speak, the way I walk, the way I look, the way I breathe. He notices the way I do my hair, my gestures, and how my makeup has been applied.
He cares about ME, me. He knows my entire story, from several sources, and he still wants to see me.
I don't see him often enough, but the relationship has been long and very good for me.
I am officially announcing I have the best psychiatrist in the world. You read correctly, the best, the very best!
I saw him yesterday. What he had to tell me was incredible. He said he's never seen me so happy, really happy. My breathing, for the first time in years was normal, the look in my eyes genuine, and my gestures flowed, and I was relaxed, he told me.
Before I left his office he told me the last time he saw me he couldn't believe the difference, the transformation, I had made. I credit it to him. He says I'm doing a lot of the work myself, which I do try, but I admit I need support from time to time.
The day he retires I will be devastated, but he has given me the tools I need to work with. He knew what I was dealing with before I did, but I didn't believe him. Finally with his help, as well as the help from others, I've accepted the fact that I am dealing mainly with PTSD.
We're working on adjusting my medications to treat that as the major demon I have been facing. He said it's so much easier to treat me now that I am accepting what he, two therapists, and other officials, have been telling me for years.
So here's to my acceptance, my recovery (which will be ongoing), and the man in my life that has stood by my side all these years, even when I wasn't there for myself.
Doctor, I thank you, and I love you. Thank you for helping my wings to truly emerge.