I’ve spent the last hour fighting with Therapist in my head. I’ve almost made it through our break, and have just a little over a week to go before our last two sessions. Perhaps not unsurprisingly though, I now find myself very much in two minds about whether or not to go. I’ve been avoiding thinking about this as much as possible, but it’s starting to sneak back in the last few days despite my best efforts. I’m always ambiguous about starting back up after a break, because I generally will have spent said break feeling incredibly rejected and abandoned by her. This time is different though. Not only do I have the imagined rejection and abandonment to contend with, I also have the very real fact that this will be one of the last times I ever speak to her. That takes rejection to a whole new level.
The last time I saw her was absolutely horrendous. It was during the time when I wasn’t writing, so the closest I can get to describing it for you is to say multiply the trauma of this post by about 1000%. I remember her saying she was sorry it was so awful for me, and that I responded by saying I could cope with awful, that what I was feeling at the time was so, so far beyond awful I couldn’t come up with a word for it. I was inconsolable for the rest of that day, and much of the next. It’s taken the last four weeks to put myself back together, and try and get my head around the fact that there is quite literally nothing I can do to change this situation. I’ve also had to accept that DBT isn’t going to happen any time soon, and that during the gap between the two, I will have to manage on my own. That is scary as fuck.
So the quandary I’m facing now is whether or not I want to risk opening all that up again, only to have to swiftly try and shut it down. Her recommendation was anything up to four sessions to close, I chose two. But what on earth will we talk about? She told me this next one would be to allow me to say whatever needs saying, so that I wouldn’t be left with regret, and that the last one would be to consolidate the work we’ve done over the years. But the fight that’s being going on in my head this last hour or so is over just that. How can I be left with no regret? How can we possibly consolidate 6 years work in any kind of helpful way when I don’t want to leave, when I feel like I’m being pushed, when I know I have such a long road ahead of me? I have so many questions, most of which I already know the answer to, or can predict what the answer will be. There is quite literally nothing she can say that will make me feel better about any of this, or make me feel like it’s not entirely my fault. Technically, this is a planned ending in so far as we know the date on which it’s going to happen. But it’s far from mutually agreed. I don’t want it. I desperately don’t want it.
I would love to go into our last session and for her to let the therapist mask drop. I’d love to see her upset, to tell me that she’s going to miss me, that she’s struggling with this as much as I am, that maybe if we our paths cross in the future we could be friends. I know none of these things will happen. She’s nothing if not professional, so I’ll never see inside that mask. We cannot be friends. Do I really want to expose myself so cruelly again? I can’t stomach the thought of sitting there, being in pieces at the prospect of a future without her, and yet being met with nothing in return. Even thinking about it now is making me feel sick, and so incredibly foolish. It’s one thing to sit in front of a therapist and share your innermost thoughts when it doesn’t relate to them, but when it does, it’s another matter entirely, especially when being met with the mask.
I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can go in there, bare my soul again, and again the following week. I don’t know if I can keep myself together enough to make it out of the office and home without losing my shit entirely. I can’t stand the thought of yet another snotty, tear filled walk across Galway, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with passers by. And yet, if I don’t go……….Will I always wonder? I think I know the answer to all those questions, but do I? Maybe she will let the mask go, after all, she won’t be my therapist any more. Am I cutting off my nose to spite my face again? Because if I choose not to go to those two sessions, that’s it. Game over. No going back. Can I live with that? Because no matter how much it hurts, like ripples on water, it will eventually pass and settle again. But if I don’t go, it’s quite likely those questions will come back to haunt me again and again, and for that I will have no one to blame except myself.