To all the clients I’ve worked with before

    To All the Clients I’ve Worked With Before, 

    This is a subject I find particularly difficult to talk about but I thought I’ll give it a shot here. Given how much courage you show in therapy, by being vulnerable, and doing the work, I thought I could try to do the same. What’s on my mind today is how therapy ended with you, and all the myriad of feelings that it brought up for me. 

    Although, one of the goals of our work was to reach this place where you’re able to go on without therapy, it still feels a little bittersweet. I’m proud and happy to see you feeling equipped to step out and navigate your demons by yourself. At the same time, a relationship is coming to an end for us and that makes me sad. What a journey it was, seeing you every week, and co-creating a space for your thoughts and feelings. 

    I recently learnt that research says that the ending of a therapy process can feel similar to the loss of a relationship. And that makes sense, doesn’t it? The therapeutic relationship between the therapist and client over a period of time comes to represent a form of attachment, albeit, a deep one if both are able to feel safe in the presence of the other. So when this ends, no matter on how high a note, it can bring up feelings one associates with having gone through a loss. 

    As a therapist, I was always taught I’m supposed to be neutral, objective– almost a reflective mirror to help you see within. It’s not that I don’t have genuine fondness for you– and sometimes, I really want to be friends with you! But my work is to keep this aside, to make space for you.

    So when therapy ends, I too experience that similar feeling one gets after someone you know so closely stops being a part of your life. Every Monday, you don’t get to hear their weekly updates, and you’re left wondering how they might be doing– did they finally have that conversation with their boss; did they find a new place to move to; how is their mom’s health now? It can feel like a sudden, gaping void. I catch myself wondering what you do in that hour these Mondays. 

    In time, I’ve learnt that I don’t have to carry this grief all by myself– I can take it to my journal, my therapist, or my supervisor who can help me navigate it in the best way possible for me. 

    Of course with certain other clients, it’s harder. There are times when I go back to thinking about the clients that have ghosted me. Self doubt crawls in. I wonder if it was something I did, or didn’t do– that made them not want to come back to therapy. 

    But perhaps, the endings that are the hardest are with the clients who didn’t particularly find a fit with me. The ones who requested they want to change their therapist because they don’t feel it is working with me. Or the ones to whom I might have to suggest that our work feels unhelpful. 

    Here’s when my therapist self and the person in me collide. My need to be helpful and liked by people shines through. There’s even a theory for this: It’s called the ‘self of the therapist’ and it means that who the therapist is as a person, can also show up in our relationships in therapy. But I have to remind myself– as much as I’d like to, I can’t help everyone and not every client would be the right fit for me. 

    But here’s what I’ve understood, when it comes to ending the therapy process with you, is that as long as I’ve acknowledged all difficult feelings that erupt I have been able to do better with the next person who walks in my therapy room. After all, isn’t that what we as therapists encourage you to do all the time? I find myself more aware of my feelings and then I’m able to make space for my clients.

    I still wonder how you are feeling about our sessions now. If the grounding technique I shared with you is still helpful, or if your relationship with your sibling is still as big a source of support and strength. I still think about our conversations sometimes and yes, goodbyes hurt, but learning to let go has also helped me grow as a therapist and as a person. 

    Sincerely,

    A Vulnerable Therapist 

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