Sorry to those who were actually following my 30 days of truth. I promise I will finish it eventually... it's just going to be put on the back burner for a while.
For those of you who didn't know I've been seeing a psychiatrist since early in my pregnancy. Nothing super serious - just a way to keep my hormones in check and a preemptive measure for warding off the post-partum depression I was positive I was going to experience. Well, apparently my brain just works different than most. Having my son actually got rid of all the anxiety and depression I had pre-pregnancy. So what does this mean? I'm actually doing way better than expected, and because of that "our therapeutic goals have been met." Which also means it's time to say good-bye to my therapeutic relationship.
I'm not sure how many of you have been to therapy, but it's quite easy to get attached to your therapist. Not in a romantic type of way mind you, but in a friendly dependent way. You see, this man understands me. He is the one who helped me discover that I was better suited for clinical work than research. He has been my confidant and mentor, and now that things are going better for me it means I can't see him anymore. It feels like I'm losing a friend. To make things worse though, when you get down to the real truth of the matter, he's not my "friend." He's my therapist. There's a line there that shouldn't be crossed.
I knew there was going to be a time when we would part ways. I just didn't realize it would feel so sucky.
1 comment:
I can totally empathize. I felt that way. But I was able to equate it to growing out of a childhood friend. Once Shannon (my therapist) was gone it was like looking back on a fond memory. Which is how I think it should be, rather than looking back at what put you in their office in the first place.
The bad gets glazed over, and the good is a comforting reminder.
In other news, I love and miss you and my little man. Give him a BIG kiss from Aunt Heather. :)
Post a Comment