Breaking up is hard to do

Breaking up is hard to do

So a couple of weeks ago my therapist and I broke up. Don’t worry, it was all very amicable. Forget all that stuff about being too sexy for my shirt, it turns out I am too happy for therapy.

Happy or not, breaking up is hard to do. Especially when it’s with a therapist.

There’s something really unique about the therapeutic relationship. I like the openness, the honesty, the guts of it all and how it empowers and allows one to resolve one’s own issues, all by oneself (with a little help from a therapeutic friend, of course.)

It’s kind of like IKEA for the mind. You have all this stuff in your head that needs sorting. Your trusty therapist can guide you and give you strategies (as if they are a trusty store guide that offers good storage solutions,) but of course, at the end of the day, we all have to be responsible for our own choices and whatever you choose to do with your stuff, like all good IKEA solutions, you have to do it yourself (with the added bonus of your therapist cheering you on.)

So yeah,  I  am a big fan of therapy, and my therapist in particular. When I arrived at her office, I didn’t just have cancer (for the second time in six months, ) I also had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Apparently. Not only was my body attacking itself, my head was in a spin too. My therapist saved my bacon,  by  supporting me, encouraging me, believing in me,  listening to me and  has done a lot of emotional hand holding these past three years since my diagnosis. I  have explored some of my most meaningful experiences with this person and I’m left with a  feeling of friendship and goodwill that I hope goes both ways, and a little bit of loss. It’s like my emotional safety net has disappeared in a puff of smoke.

I would often take my therapist baked goods and in return I got to feng shui my brain for about 50 minutes. But even I know baked goods and boundless  joy aren’t going to keep us together.

Now that I’m studying to become a counsellor, I can tell you that our last session was classic textbook. We spent our last session talking about how far I’d come, where I’m at and what I was most looking forward to next. We’ve travelled a long journey, she and I, and we’ve kind of come to a fork in the road.

I’m in  a good place and I’m ready to take responsibility for my own emotional well being and to live my life in the best way I can. The time I spent with my therapist showed me that everything I need is inside. I am world-ready.

I can’t (or won’t)  say we’ve come to the end of the road, because no one knows what lies ahead, but  should I hit a bump in the road in the future and need to return,  I know her door will always be open.

And that’s nice to know.

How do you feel about therapy? Love it or hate it? Have you survived a break up with your therapist?