To My Therapist Who Disappeared:

I’m hurt.

Usually, I’d say I’m pissed, but my new therapist taught me anger is sad’s bodyguard. I have found that statement to be true in almost every instance since hearing it.

Anyway, I’m hurt. I thought switching to the first day of the week would reduce the cancellations. I must say, nothing beats calling the scheduling woman only to be told, “Oh, I left you a voicemail on Friday. Your therapist is gone, and we don’t know when they’re coming back. We can put you with a new therapist if you’d like.” I never liked this woman. She was almost always on her cell phone, engaging with FaceTime calls when I’d come to check-in. Sometimes, I even received an attitude—very unprofessional.

Anyway x2, that was March 23, 2020. Today is December 27, 2020; you never came back.

At first, I didn’t understand what the desk woman was saying. I tried to fight for myself: “How do you not know when they’re coming back? How can a therapist disappear?” She replied very rudely: “We can’t tell you about their personal life. We don’t know when they’re coming back; that’s all I can tell you.”

Since when is asking about your therapist’s return from their unexpected disappearance a step into their private life? Do I not have a right to know? I had been working with you for over a year. I was FINALLY starting to trust you. I couldn’t even say the word “rape” until a couple of weeks before you left. I had FINALLY opened up about one of the most significant traumas in my life two visits before you disappeared. Can you imagine what your absence did to my brain? Trust doesn’t form quickly.

I was difficult, I know. We argued nearly every session, and there were times I’d be nasty to you. UGLY sides of me came out during those sessions, but you didn’t give up. You continuously pushed when I sat in silence for nearly a whole session. You pushed when I’d threaten not to come back. I somehow always came back, though. Why? If I would’ve known this was how our “therapeutic relationship” would end, I would’ve never returned.

As you know, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder while in PBH and then by a psychiatrist from a different facility. Of all people, you should know how hard it is for me to formulate and maintain healthy relationships, not to mention the instability in my emotions and reactions. What the hell prompted you to dip out on your clients? Perhaps something tragic happened in your life, or maybe you finally took that other job you were looking into. Either way, we deserve closure. Ending a “therapeutic relationship” without a goodbye, especially when your client just opened up about being raped, something YOU pushed for, is one of the worst things a therapist can do.

And you did it.

I sobbed that day. As someone with BPD, it felt as if you died. I guess essentially, you did. At one point, I felt as if my reaction was over the top. My disorder causes such reactions, no doubt, but I have been validated repeatedly by my loved ones. And then, as the months progressed, I was validated by myself. I feel deeply and intensely, so your disappearing after finally earning my trust wrecked me. You were one of the best counselors I’ve had, but also the worst.

You were the best because you pushed me and didn’t give up on me; I would’ve. I was awful at times. You taught me a few skills that I’ll continue to use. You were the worst because you canceled on me all the time. I felt invalidated by you, too.

You come to mind a lot—nearly every day. The first couple of months, I had nightmares about you: you would yell at me, tell me everything was my fault, or flat out pretend you didn’t know me. In every nightmare, I sobbed and begged you to talk to me. The nightmares have decreased but continue to hurt when they occur. I drive around my town wondering if I’ll ever run into you; I’ve dreamt about that, too. Why does this bother me so much? How did you get so stuck in my brain?

I think it’s because I shared one of my deepest hurts with you. I was finally ready to talk about that night and work through the damage, but then you disappeared. Now, I feel even more guarded around my new therapist. I brace myself for another unexpected departure.

You made trusting even harder. I didn’t think that was possible.

Here I am on December 27, 2020–writing a blog post because I was tearing up earlier, thinking about your absence. I lay here in my bed thinking about the breakthroughs we’ve had but also the arguments. I think about my loved ones telling me I should get a new therapist, but I never did.

Oh, how I wish I would’ve.

I understand therapist and client relationships have an endpoint, but mine wasn’t supposed to end in March. Either way, there should’ve been closure—a goodbye, a closing session, reflection, anything.

There was nothing.

I sincerely hope you and your family are okay. I hope wherever you’re at in life is where you want to be. I wish you well but know I’m forever impacted by you not saying goodbye. I know my BPD plays a role in how much this affects me, but you did wrong nevertheless.

If you take anything from this, let it be the necessity of providing closure to your clients so they can move on with their therapy journey.