It had taken many years for me to find a therapist that I trusted and who wasn’t trying to foist their agenda or beliefs on me.

When I did, for six years they provided a safe space for me to explore, feel, bleed (metaphorically) and heal from my painful past experiences.

I started to sense halfway through the fifth year that I was approaching the end of my time with them. It was good news, of course, but it did come with a sense of sadness and foreboding.

My relationship with my therapist was professional but a bond was created by what I was sharing with them and what they were providing. It takes a lot to trust someone with your darkest, most painful thoughts and feelings. My trust in them had been right.

It’s hard to leave a relationship like that behind but I knew that I could not, and more importantly should not continue just because I was afraid of what would happen next. I was very aware of the dangers of depending heavily on someone.

My main concerns were:

Was I ready to go it alone (as it were)?

What if I needed therapy again? Did it mean I was weak or a failure?

What if I “jumped” too soon? Would my therapist scorn me/ refuse to take me on as a client again?

What if my therapist laughed and told me I was wrong?

I figured I had three choices:

1. Keep my feelings regarding ending my sessions to myself, allowing them to fester and become part of the problem.

2. Tell my therapist and explore them together so that the end is gradual and handled well.

3. Cut and run.

I’m pleased to say that I went with option 2.

Upon telling my therapist that I felt that my need for therapy was coming to an end, there was no laughter, just the quiet understanding that I had come to know over the years.

We discussed how I wanted to approach the end and I was assured that my concerns were valid and normal. Change is scary, even if it is positive change. I was reassured that I could also change my mind at any point. I was in control of how this happened. It was an empowering feeling.

So, over the next six months, we started ending things. We reduced the number of sessions I had, talked more about going forward with my new insights and coping mechanisms, explored my fears and saw them for what they were.

When the last session came, it was hard but I knew that I could stride forward on my own, my past and pain now understood. There was an air of finality mixed with hope for the next stages of my life. I also left knowing that therapy was not always a one-time thing and that it was ok to need help and support in the future.

None of us are infallible or indestructible. We are human.


WRITTEN BY LORNA SMART

BLOGGER @POEMSTELLIUM

INSTAGRAM @LORNASMARTWORDCRAFTER

LINKEDIN:WWW.LINKEDIN.COM/IN/LORNASMARTWORDCRAFTER/