I deliberately held off writing a post about the end of therapy until I'd had a few days to get used to the idea. On Friday, after my final therapy session, I was numb, but I knew that a huge factor in this emotion was that I had not managed any sleep at all on Thursday night.
The session itself was strange and not at all how I expected it would be or how I hoped it would be. It started with me being asked how I was. That was fairly easy to answer because I was incredibly tired so I told my therapist that I hadn't had any sleep at all the previous night. He queried this. Was I sure that I hadn't dropped off at some point? Yes, I was sure, and I proceeded to tell him all the things that I had done in an effort to get some sleep.
He then asked me what my feelings were about the end of therapy. I told him that I regretted the end of the one bit of routine in my life, that I was scared about not having the regular contact with another human being that the therapy appointments guaranteed, and that I had an overwhelming feeling of being abandoned.
And that is how I feel now. Abandoned. Left on my own again. It was not a good last session. There was no real ending. It was a conversation that was ended with "I'm afraid we'll have to leave it there" and a "Goodbye" and a handshake.
I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't that. I had hoped for some sort of closure, some hope for the future. Instead I feel as though I have something terminal and I am in the final stages. I feel as though I have just been left to die.
3 comments:
I am sorry that this has happened and I can understand that you must be feeling very bereft. The end of therapy is not unlike (in fact it's almost the same) as a meaningful relationship breakdown. I wish I knew what to suggest to help you through this. Of course you must keep blogging and keep in contact with your online friends (and please don't hesitate to email me if you need to 'chat'), but it can never be the same as having face to face contact. I wonder if you have a 'drop-in' group (always sounds so dreary) or something local for people in similar situations you could join for that regular contact. I know it's not the same and may be nerve-wracking initially but sometimes these things can spark off new contacts and interests. (we even have 'knitting circle' in Sheffield where people meet up in someone's home once a week - always makes me think of you!)It's important that you have some support. None of us can exist alone.
Please keep strong and keep in touch. I try and do 'one social thing each week' even if it's just chatting to a neighbour - and sometimes I have to force myself. You must do the same!!
Sending you waves of companionship..
K.x
I understand, I have been through that process many times and have been through it again very recently (2 weeks ago). It takes time to get used to the change, work through your emotions safely. Take care.
Bugger, I wrote a longish answer and then accidentally it disappeared. LOL Oh dear, the impermanence of it all 'eh. Well, at least that part is vaguely on-topic.
I really just wanted to say it's natural to grieve that loss. Healthy, I think... sometimes depression is a balm, of sorts. Part of the harmony we seek, maybe.
Also, to admire your beautiful hats. I wish I could make something like that :) I think perhaps the process of mourning a loss is a little like the differences between them... afterwards, we always go back and see what we have made. It doesn't always measure up to our imagination, to our brightest hopes, and this often makes me sad. But the sadness isn't necessarily such a bad thing because it also speaks of how deep hope runs.
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