Ghosting My Therapist
It’s not you, it’s me. Well, maybe it is you and it’s not me at all. Okay, it might be a little bit you and a little bit me. Or maybe it’s just time to move the fuck on . These were the internal thoughts I had with myself for months leading up to the day I ghosted my therapist.
One thing I have learned from my 10+ years in therapy is that the relationship with your therapist is one of the trickiest to navigate. I quickly learned that my therapist was not my friend…as much as I would like to think we were at times. It’s difficult since you divulge some of the most intimate, gritty details about your life to them which allows a sacred bond to form. However, the stage-5 clinger turned cynic in me would say it’s a one-sided, business relationship since there is a monetary exchange and you only talk about yourself.
I want to preface this post by stating that I had an excellent therapist for 7 years. I started seeing her through a very dark, personal time in my life in 2015 and she went on to help me through some very tough obstacles that I would have not been able to navigate on my own. Some of these being health struggles, OCD episodes, several family and pet deaths, and the alcoholic beast that was slowly but surely getting stronger by the day. She taught me about boundaries and how to utilize them which gave me a freedom I will always be grateful for. She was a place of solace during the pandemic when I was alone in my apartment in Colorado for two months. I cherished our sessions together and will always look back on our time fondly.
It wasn’t until year 6 that I noticed a clear shift in her boundaries. In fact, she made them ironclad. Her price would increase every 6 months and by the end of the 7 years, she had more than doubled her initial fee. Her demand grew, as did the majority of therapists during the height of Covid, but it was becoming impossible to keep up with her steep price tag. She also started to STRICTLY enforce her 45-minute session (she used to go over by 5-10 minutes if we were discussing something important) and, fair or not, I started to see it as very transactional. Around the 42-minute mark, she would start wrapping things up, even if I was in the middle of discussing something important.
In hindsight, I now know she was doing her job and did not owe me anything over the 45 minutes I paid for. She might have felt that her boundaries were being pushed and wanted to establish how she wanted the sessions to go moving forward. While I want to emphasize that I know she did not do anything wrong, I took it very personally, as I did (and do) most things. But with everything in my life right now, I’m fucking working on it.
As I am writing this, I am realizing that I had some co-dependency issues with her. Every time something would go wrong in my life, I would break down and immediately text her to schedule a session. I rarely handled things on my own volition and would rather lash out irrationally as opposed to having an adult conversation to try and rectify the situation.
Even though I was becoming subconsciously distant towards her, I knew I needed (and will probably always need if we’re being honest) therapy and felt disloyal if I found someone else. She knew all the main characters and pivotal events in my life and I did not want to go through that with another therapist. I also had an incessant need for her to like me and approve of my actions. I would often leave feeling guilt-ridden when I would tell her something that I was ashamed of doing which is quite literally the opposite of how therapy should work. Upon reflection, she was an incredibly nurturing and compassionate woman, but rarely held me accountable, which is what I needed and craved. I was obviously not making much progress and was continuing to see her solely out of routine. Towards the end of our time together, I started to withhold some essential details that would have been in my best interest to share out of fear of letting her down. Let me tell you, people pleasing is one hell of a cycle to break.
As a result of all this, the frequency of my sessions began to dwindle. I went from seeing her every week, to every two weeks and finally, to every other month. My last session with her was in March of 2022. I did not have any intention of it being our last session, but I guess, subliminally, I knew it was time to go.
Looking back with a clearer mind, I believe she was not only keeping me afloat, but also was instrumental in stopping me from completely unraveling. As a result of terminating that relationship, my mental health quickly took a nosedive and led me to that fateful night in August of last year. I needed to end that association to allow myself to finally hit my rock bottom in solitude.
About two months into my sobriety, after the pink cloud of toxic positively wore off, I started to experience major anxiety and depression. (I know this is starting to feel like a broken record, but trust me, we’re about to turn the corner.) This was when the hard realization set in that putting down the drink was only a fraction of sobriety. Now the hard work that I had been putting off for years would actually begin. When I finally shared my mental health struggles with my sponsor, she recommended that I seek out a therapist. I held off for a while since I wasn’t in the head space to do much of anything besides not drink. The thought of trying to find a new person to open up to and start working on my deep-rooted issues with was daunting which caused me to find every reason under the sun to put it off.
However, I finally hit a breaking point and decided to take her advice. I spoke to a few women but Joanna, my current therapist, immediately stood out. We only spoke on the phone for a few minutes but I felt a great sense of relief after our phone call. I can’t fully explain it but I had a feeling of hope for the first time in a while that everything would be okay.
Fast forward 10 months, and Joanna has helped me heal in many aspects of my life. She holds me accountable when I need it while validating my feelings and allowing me to be heard. It was often challenging for me to express how I felt in a cohesive way without getting defensive, and I often felt dismissed by those closest to me. I grew up needing to be right and defending my honor, like I was the fucking Queen’s Guard or something. I believed that if I did not stand up for myself in every single argument, I would be seen as a walked-over, sheepish wallflower.
However, this would end up causing me so much anxiety and inner turmoilI that I needed to make a change for my own sanity. I realized that anything that affects my mental health is not fucking worth it. Today, I am trying to eliminate toxicity out of my life. Whether it be toxic people, conversations, situations or my own behavior when triggered by something traumatic, I’m learning to let it go with the help of Joanna.
I hold so much gratitude and respect towards my last therapist. I believe people are put into our lives during certain periods to teach us lessons, and Jennifer was certainly one of them.
