A girl’s first time is something she will never forget.
The first man who really gets her. Who looks in her eyes, his gaze penetrating her heart. Who hears everything she says and grasps the meaning behind each word.
So of course, breaking up with my first psychotherapist was a poignant moment in my life.
I had been seeing Dr. Dixon twice a week for five years. Now it was time to say goodbye.
It started because I felt lost
I hooked up with Dr. Dixon when I was 22. I had a boyfriend, but I knew the relationship wasn’t good. I was depressed and always had been, though I had a master’s degree, a pretty good job, and not a bad life on paper.
Driving to my first appointment, I got lost and arrived a half hour late. I cried so hard during the remaining half hour that I could barely make it to work the next day.
I was hooked.
Years of tears followed. After about two years the depression started to lift, and I continued to progress.
Finally, I was able to decide to marry my boyfriend. Perhaps not the best decision—we eventually divorced—but better than the five years of indecisiveness.
It seemed like time to quit psychotherapy. My boyfriend had never been a fan of it and was jealous that I may be telling Dr. Dixon his secrets.
The wedding was a few weeks off. The time had come
Dr. Dixon and I established an end date. I still remember walking down the hallway to the elevator for the last time. Sad but it seemed like the right decision.
It’s like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz
Dorothy’s gang, in meeting the challenges to find the Wizard, discovered they already possessed the traits they were seeking.
And so it was with me.
For five years I stood up to my boyfriend, family and friends in defending my decision to go to a shrink. After all, as they all told me, they could tell me what was wrong with me for free.
I persevered and felt much better.
Dr. Dixon said that psychotherapy is like a stool. In therapy you build the first two legs. After therapy you build the third.
I’ve been to other therapists, including a great one I am seeing now.
Contrary to your probable impression of me from this story, I’m not all that crazy. It takes a certain type of person to pay good money to talk to someone, and I’m that kind of person: Jewish. Reflective. Highly verbal.
I guess a blog is similar to therapy because both support self-discovery. Thank you for reading.
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Filed under: myself