My Therapist is Leaving

“There’s also a lot of vulnerability in a relationship where the sole connection will someday be severed. A relationship that can be severed so completely by things other than death, things I have no control over. A relationship that is both real and a business transaction. This is where I get tripped up. It doesn’t matter how much I respect the therapist/client relationship for what it is; it’s also a relationship that will end. Hopefully not soon – but I’m perfectly capable of worrying about it now.” – Me, 2.5 months ago.

After all of those conversations about my fear that she would leave and trying to believe she really wasn’t going anywhere — my therapist is leaving.

When we had those conversations, she didn’t know she would be leaving anytime soon. Intellectually, I know that. Emotionally, it is a lot more complicated.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone look as reluctant to tell me something as she did as she tried to get the words out.

For my part, I sobbed in her office and didn’t say another word.

I’m feeling a bit burned by the universe right now.

Thankfully, she’s not leaving because she’s sick or because she’s retiring. I think the reason she is leaving can best be summed up as, “therapists are human, too.” Their lives get complicated and overwhelming, just like anyone else. And sometimes they’ve got to prioritize their own mental health.

The part of me that appreciates her as a person understands. If we were friends, I suspect I’d be cheerleading this change.

The part of me that loves her as my therapist is less understanding. That part of me cries every time I try to write about it. That part of me feels abandoned, angry, and betrayed. That part of me does not give a fuck about what I intellectually know to be true.

*Both* parts of me will really miss her.

I know some people “don’t believe in” long-term therapy that lasts for years upon years. And I’ve spent a lot of time worrying about being too dependent on her.

But now that she’s going away I think I can see the dual truths here.

I will do okay without her. There was still more I could have done with her.

I relied on her.  Sometimes I’ve relied on her more than felt comfortable. But I never relied solely on her.

It feels a lot like being broken up with. I know she’s not rejecting me in particular.

I’m hopeful for her. I’m sad for me.

We are having some conversations we might not have otherwise had. I appreciate those conversations. I still wish she wasn’t leaving.

We are also navigating my need to worry about her feelings, to protect her, to not add to any negative feelings she may have about leaving.

Embracing this whole “two things can be true” concept is hard enough when I’m dealing with my own brain. Now I’m also struggling with understanding the ways that is true for her, too. The idea that she gets paid but she also truly cares. The idea that she made the right decision for her at this time but she’s also sad.

She has been the most consistent aspect of my life over the last decade.

I went from one kid to two kids. I got divorced. I’ve moved twice. Boyfriends have come, and boyfriends have gone. Friendships have waxed and waned. But my therapist stuck around. She was there at the very lowest points of my life.

I’ve spent a lot of time grieving — specifically, I’m no stranger to grieving ahead. To relationships with expiration dates. In a lot of ways, her leaving feels like a culmination of everything we’ve done over the last 10 years.

It’s the specific mix of our personalities, her abilities as a therapist, and the intersection with the circumstances of the last decade of my life (and hers, I suppose) that have led us here.

The mix of variables will never be recreated. I’m glad, because this past decade has tried me in ways I never expected. Yet, I find myself also really grateful for the lessons I have learned and the relationship we have created.

I’ll look for a new therapist, but it’s going to be prophylactic more than an acute need. There will be no way start from where I am with someone new. Another therapist may even have fresh and interesting insight, but they won’t know me like she does. The work we are still doing is going to have no choice but to wrap itself up.

I’ve got anxiety, OCD, ADHD, and recurrent MDD… chances are good that something is going to eventually hit the fan again, and I don’t want to be caught off guard.

So I find myself with these two truths of missing her before she’s even gone, and a sense of curiosity about what comes next.