It’s tomorrow. The day that I’ve been dreading for the longest time is finally on top of me, and there’s no escaping it. My last session with Therapist. There’s no going back this time. No changing my mind, no matter how strong the urge to do my usual 180. After tomorrow, I no longer have the right to contact her. I cannot ask for any more sessions. I cannot try and reconnect in 6 months time. We’re done. I’ve had 6 weeks to get used to the idea, 6 weeks in which I’ve had to work incredibly hard not to take this ending personally. I’m not sure how successful I’ve been. Logic tells me it has to be this way, that’s she’s doing what’s right for me, that she might, just maybe, be a little sad about this ending too. But emotionally? Ha.
I spent the day with various friends today, all of whom know what faces me tomorrow, all of whom were incredibly kind and asked if I was ok. I am today, or at least I was earlier. Not so much now. I wasn’t at several points last week, and I strongly suspect I won’t be tomorrow. I’m working in the morning, so hopefully that will provide distraction up until I see her. And then? Then I hope I’ll be able to contain the shaking long enough to make it up the stairs, and have the strength not to baulk, turn and run at the last minute.
Will we have a full session? Unlikely. After all, it’s not like I can start talking to her about anything that may be on my mind. Tomorrow is about saying goodbye. I’d like to think emotion won’t get the better of me, that we’ll be able to have a proper conversation. I need to tell her how much I’m going to miss her. I need her to know just how much of a difference she’s made to my life, to my family, that she has saved my life several times over. I’m a very different person to the Fiona she met all those years years ago, and it’s all down to the work we’ve done together. I don’t know if I can ever adequately express how much I appreciate everything she’s done for me, the patience, kindness and understanding she has always shown me, no matter how much I’ve pushed or what I’ve thrown at her.
I hope that I can get through this last session without getting defensive and shutting down, because I don’t want to walk away leaving anything unsaid. I don’t want regret. It’s going to be so bloody hard, there’s no getting around that. But this time tomorrow, it’s done. I’m on my own.
The lump in my throat is back.