A Door Closes

I thought I’d be seeing my therapist for, well, at least another few years.

Back when I felt safe and supported, I had been planning to have her right there for when I make decisions ten years down the road.

In fact, the thought of ever having to terminate made me tense up.

But now, instead of continuing to cultivate our relationship, we’re in the midst of that dreaded termination, where we have our final few chats before parting ways.

I wish I could say I’m healed, that my work on this chair is done.

But no, that’s not why I’m saying farewell.

For too long now, the needle has not been moving forward. For too long, there was so much frustration simmering in the space between us. Perhaps the frustration was mine alone, as my therapist patiently waited for my trust to return, trying to cultivate an environment to encourage openness. Perhaps I was just projecting my frustration.

But it wasn't working.

Whereas in the past, I often felt glimmers of understanding and felt I could rely on empathy and compassion, as of the recent and not-so-recent past, the misunderstandings, the issues in regard which we were on different pages, and our discordant views of the work have caused a rift between us, a vortex that has swallowed all the trust so painstakingly cultivated in this place, bringing into question whether the safety has ever been there fully, or if it was only my desperation for it that had me bank on something evasive.

And showing up in that state had me feeling worse than ever.

Making the decision to move on was brutal.

I have invested so much in this space.

I have so much appreciation for the myriad ways working my therapist has been helpful. Healing.

She helped me organize so much of the chaos that was my daily reality. Helped enhance so many aspects of my life. Taught me so much and showed up in so many grounding ways.

She gave me words with which to understand my experience. Helped me touch on pieces of meaning.

But it is no longer working.

And so it feels not only like I'm betraying her sincere efforts, but also like I'm acting ungrateful, which are two discomforts I avoid at all costs.

Ending this relationship is a huge loss for me. It's a loss of the modicum of support I'm still getting there.

It's a loss of a space that has moved me forward in life.

And also, it's a loss of all the dreams I had for this space and this relationship.

And yet, this is therapy.

It has to work.

I need to move forward.

I need to address my core issues in a way that will make me feel heard.

I need to feel safe with the way my deepest vulnerabilities are received.

And so, perhaps more closed up than in a while, I get ready to set out.

To try to gather the guts to face a new therapist, a stranger, hoping that someone out there has the key to unlock my heart.