When therapy ends

There is this person, whose couch I could always curl up on and cry, laugh, or simply vent about my life.

This person showed me a kindness I had not ever experienced. A basic, human kindness–empathy. She saw me for who I was, respected me for who I was, and allowed me to be and feel whatever I needed to.

She believed in me.

And, eventually, it allowed ME to believe in me, too.

It has been almost two months since I sat on this person’s couch. Two months since I’ve seen her smile, or given her a hug, or laughed or scowled at her.

This person? She is one of my favorite people…She is my therapist.

Any good therapist will tell you that the ultimate goal in therapy is to no longer need her. For years, I thought that this would never, EVER, happen to me. I could not imagine ever not NEEDING this person to guide me through all of my ups and downs.

And yet…here, I am.

I’ve been going through some tough feelings and situations lately. On those days where I start to feel lonely, and vulnerable, and achy, I itch to reach out to her. I grab my phone, wanting to draft out a text, but I stop…will she change anything for me?

The answer, truthfully, is no. I have gotten to a point where I can now navigate through my own messes, on my own. I have a circle of supportive friends that I can vent to and bounce worries and ideas off of. I have confidence in my own two feet and my ability to keep standing on them.

But…oh, if I don’t miss her. I do.

I hope she knows how deeply she has impacted my soul. She treated my vulnerability with such gentleness, even when I tried to force it out like a huge wall in front of me, spray painted in graffiti that dared her to run away. I pushed my boundaries. I tested her. I dared her to be the kind of person who I was so used to knowing–the one who used my pain and hurts against me, to teach me lessons, and to push me away.

She never did that. Steadfastly, she was there.


Deep inside my brain and my heart, I know she always will be there. I could call or text and get into to see her quickly. But, still, knowing that I will no longer see her regularly feels like a loss of sorts.

She encouraged me to stretch my wings and grow. To believe in myself. She walked with me on my path out of panic attacks and debilitating anxiety. She watered my roots so I could bloom and grow right where I am planted today.

The end of therapy is bittersweet. I am happy for myself…I have gained so much. But I miss my cheerleader, my confidant, and my role model.

I am so thankful for the kindness and caring she has shown me. ❤



3 thoughts on “When therapy ends

  1. Miranda Rae Brooks October 1, 2018 / 7:36 am

    I can feel your sense of loss. In a way, it really is like moving away from a friend, but thank goodness you know you could reach out if you needed.

    Despite those feelings, it is so wonderful to find yourself in a place where you can stand on your own feet without needing to reach out to her. That’s really great.


  2. worrylessjourney October 1, 2018 / 1:35 pm

    It is wonderful that you can move on but why don’t you write her a note (on paper) thanking her and expressing how grateful you are. We never get to hear the good things.


  3. ponderingmissylou December 27, 2018 / 10:56 pm

    I had one like that, too. Reading your blog was as if I wrote it myself. While I have grown with her wisdom and guidance, I still grieve as I miss her.


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