Time to Move On

I am currently studying a MS in Psychology. The class I’m taking this term is “Relationship and Intervention Skills Theory and Application.” I find the content fascinating, especially about the corrective emotional experience of the relationship between the client and the therapist.

“the impact of the therapeutic relationship in its own right as a potentially corrective experience” -Paul L Watchel

Twist that knife.

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I didn’t get to end therapy this way. I didn’t get a process. I got an email and one last session.


Moving on is hard.

Change is never easy… especially for those of us who like control.

“Life isn’t perfect, but you have come to accept these imperfections, and you feel equipped to handle life’s challenges when they come your way.” 

Part of me feels robbed. I feel robbed of the process of letting go of that relationship. Part of me wonders if it would have just made it harder.

Mostly, I focus on what she told me in our last session. I can’t change the situation and wishing I could doesn’t help, so I’m trying to make the most of it.


It took a lot for me to trust a therapist. (I went through four before finally settling with this one.)

And part of my gut reaction is that because of how hard the way we have ended is for me, I don’t want to trust again. But the truth is I’m learning about what it means to rely on other people and let them be people too.

Unconditional love doesn’t mean being perfect.

My therapist did more for teaching me what a real relationship is about than anyone in my life. And she did this through the cancellations, the last minute scheduling, and all the ups and downs of human relationships.

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I tend to hold myself to a crazy standard of perfection and drag everyone else along with that. The paradox of recovery is needing other people and finding out that your standard and expectations for what that means are really off base.

Some days I feel like I need to find a new therapist to work get over ending with my previous therapist. Other days I’m excited by the possibility of figuring out what is next.

I miss the accountability and the safety net.

I have to remind myself daily that sincerity with myself doesn’t mean perfection. (I didn’t think of that myself – one of my friends told me that yesterday.)

I can make mistakes.

I have a natural support system.




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