A Goodbye Letter To My Therapist

This letter has been a long time coming.  I think it is time to sever our relationship.  We had a lot of fun at first.  Whether it was sitting on top of the hangar drinking some homemade wine with my best friend or just having a few drinks with friends.  You always made me feel great and helped me come out of my shell.

There were some downtimes early on as well.  That should have warned me about what was to come.  Remember when we got arrested?  Or when we almost got kicked off the football team?  Granted, I was probably in the best shape of my life following that.  But was it worth it?  Not really.  Then there was that hot summer night in 1987.  I was so close to home, I could have thrown a rock and hit my house.  But the State Trooper had other ideas.

After that night we didn’t talk very much for a long time.  Then came that terrible day in 2007.  I’m sure you remember it well.  I came running back to you like a long lost friend.  You were able to calm all the anger, hurt and guilt of that day.  I started meeting with you daily.  I needed the therapy, or so I thought, to keep from going insane.  Little did I know at the time that I was already insane and sick.

You took full advantage of my weakend emotional and spiritual state.  I came to depend on our morning, afternoon and evening sessions.  It was the only thing that enabled me to get throught the night.  Although there were many nights I still cried myself to sleep.

Eventually you felt it necessary to increase our sessions from a few times a day to all day, everyday.  Honestly, I would have preferred group meetings but you insisted on meeting one on one.  I objected for a time but eventually gave into your demands.

After about a year of this intense therapy, I felt it was time to cut back on our meetings.  You reluctantly agreed.  But you were always sending me messages that you felt I still needed the intense therapy.  I finally couldn’t take the noise any longer and I agreed to return to your office on a regular basis.  This eventually began to cause problems at home.  My wife was jealous of all the time we were spending together.  At one point she made me take a month’s vacation from you and her.  This was supposed to take your place and clear my head.  All I had to do was follow a few simple steps.  I started walking but my heart just wasn’t in it.  My wife decided it was time to move on.  I came back to you like a son running to his father.  Arms opened wide to hug and hold you.

We kept our daily sessions going for a little over a year again.  Even after a not so friendly encounter with a Hudson Oaks Police Officer.  Shortly after that meeting, I stopped seeing you all together.  I missed you terribly.  I was still lonely, angry and fearful.  The guilt was consuming me again.  So I came back.  Not for daily sessions though.  Usually two or three times a week.  I thought I finally had it all under control.

I met the love of my life during this period.  I didn’t tell her about you.  I was afraid she would move on and abandon me, just like what happened the past two times.  She eventually found out about.  It was inevitable I guess. She wasn’t so much jealous as she was hurt and heart broken over our relationship.   I was ready to end our relationship.  We tried many times.  But I was always drawn back by your siren song.  Not caring that my ship would eventually crash on the rocks.  Hmmmm, on the rocks, that’s pretty ironic alliteration now that I think about it.  There were many rescue attempts.  Some of them were partially successful.  But I always heeded your call in the end.

This has gone on for the past 6 years.  My ship has taken on all the water it can hold without sinking to the depths of the ocean.  All that is visible is the crow’s nest.  Barely above water.  One last rescue attempt was made and my ship was towed to shore.  Once on dry land, I began the process of baling the water out bucket by bucket and throwing the ruined supplies of anger, guilt and fear into the dumpster.  It is a long walk, but the steps are simple and will lead me to a new place where I can provision my ship with happiness, excitement and love.

I wish I could say thank you for everything.  But I will not lie to you.  The journey has not been fun.  We left a a lot of pain and hurt in our wake.  Things that I will have to make amends for on my walk to fill my ship.  I won’t be needing your help any longer.  I would wish you safe travels.  But I wouldn’t wish your version on therapy on anyone.  As far as I am concerned, you can sail off into the Bermuda Triangle.  Goodbye and good riddance.


Your Former Patient,

Robert the Alcoholic

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