I hadn't seen my therapist for two months. She texted me to enquire if I would like my slot again. My every-two-weeks-but-not-in-the-summer Wednesday morning slot. Every September for the last nine years when that text came, I sighed happily and texted straight back 'yes please'. But this time, my first thought was... 'Is it time to say goodbye to my therapist...?'
Of course, two seconds later, my brain went into a spasm of panic. I need her. I admire her. I want to be her when I grow up! She challenges me. She listens to me. She understands me.
What if my ex-husband scares me again? What if my anxiety reaches a peak again? What if my kids/ my mother/ my friend/ my job/ my poor racy head pull me apart with self-doubt again? How would I cope?
I need my therapist.
I don't buy fancy clothes. I rarely drink. I don't smoke. This is how I choose to spend my 'me' money. I allow my brain to breathe, my eyes to cry, my tongue to rant. I allow myself be a cursing, resentful fool but also be a witty, clever story-teller. But yet, it's not pretend. In that room, it's me. The real me. I'm not pandering to anyone. I like the me I am with my therapist.
I have never said those words before. I am going to say them again! I like the me who is in that room with my therapist. And I sense that my therapist likes me too. She doesn't judge me. I love my kids and my friends and my family. But they all judge. For goodness sake, I judge myself - why wouldn't they?
My therapist once said: 'You are a force to be reckoned with and I want you to know that, to feel that...'
Me? A force? I carried those words around for weeks. Dark weeks. You know what I mean. And when the darkness turned darker, I reminded myself 'I am a force' and my shoulders straightened and my head tilted higher and I put on my funky shoes and my berry lipstick and I faked the force until I felt the Force. (Yes, I am a Star Wars fan!).
I went to my therapist last week and she asked how I felt when I got her text. I told her the truth. I want to stay in this safe yet challenging space forever but I wonder am I... ready to leave? By asking the question, it certainly suggests I am ready to discuss it.
So, we are not going to rush into anything. It's been nine years. We are going to take it slowly. She said she needed time to say goodbye to me too which I take as a compliment.
I think this will be the only amicable break-up I have had in my life...
Salt Water Mum
A Moodscope member