A bittersweet farewell

I broke up with my therapist today…

yeah it’s a happy time, I feel good to go it alone and that’s a great thing, but she really became someone special to me so at the same time, it feels like I’m saying goodbye to a close friend.

weird thing is that I don’t really know a thing about her, lol, she has that no personal disclosure policy which is cool, but I’ve often wanted to know her. I never felt that we had a doctor-patient relationship, more like a friend who was helping me figure stuff out on my own like many of my friends now do, and as I’ve become more open around my friends (also as I’ve surrounded myself with the right type of people to be open around) the line between her and the rest of my girls started to fade.

as life got better and better, especially over the past few months, going to see her has been less about getting “help”, and more about wanting to tell her about all the awesome things that are going on with me…. thing is, I’m paying her a very good rate to do so… heheheh… and money is a little tight these days

two sessions ago, while gushing about all the awesome stuff that had happened to me lately, I looked up at one point, and found her in tears with this big goofy grin from ear to ear

ha!, I feel like I scored a point there, heheheheheh, it was great to see someone who had helped me so frakin much be that touched by my experiences, by my joy

and she knows that she played a huge part in that

a smidgen over a year ago I had my first session, I remember sitting down in tears, a boy, scruffy, and just dumping the last few weeks onto her lap (which happened to be my trip to Victoria, the aftermath, Becca leaving on vacation for a month, heavy stuff) before she even got a chance to introduce herself….

those that know me, know that I can talk non stop if the need hits me

I remember walking out of there, face soaked in tears, feeling good, feeling hopeful.

even though I expected, and kind of wanted, to have a therapist who would analyze me, try to crack me open, someone aggressive (as my therapy style happens to be, and it works for me), she didn’t have that approach. She let me talk, and babble, and more often than not, I would find my own conclusions, she was my sounding board, and my mirror, and occasionally a guide through my own disconnected babbling. Her strength, with me at least, was seeing the voids in my story, showing me the one thing that I knew, but hadn’t realized that I had known, the knowledge that I was dancing around, the knowledge that once I would see I could never un-see so my mind would ignore it, keeping itself safe….

that may be confusing…. I’ll illustrate with one sledgehammer that she hit me with

this was pre-final-acceptance-that-I-was-trans, I remember being depressed, miserable about what I was, these life altering choices before me. I played a mental game with myself. I pictured myself as an old man, still a crossdresser, putting on his wig, doing his makeup, the fake boobs and butt pads, and I remember my stomach twisting, the thought literally gave me pain. I then thought of myself as an old trans woman, little saggy boobs in my little bra, old soft face, pulling on those granny panties and maybe still shaving some stubborn stubble on my chin every morning, and still slapping on those estrogen patches twice a week…. and I smiled, and while it was scary at the time, the pain in my stomach relaxed***

I was about to launch into another tangential story and a little twist of a smile appeared on the corner of her mouth…. she paused me with a look

“so, no matter what, Dawn is still going to be a part of your life right?….. you never pictured yourself as just a guy in the end”

it hit me like a ton of bricks…. at that time I was still trying to really accept that I was trans -vs- just cuckoo… and that was a big first step in making the final choice that I did

but like I said, lately, sure we talk about tough stuff, but by the time I get to see her, I’ve already talked about that tough stuff with my girls and probably with Chuck as well, dealt with it, and have moved on, so to her I’m giving her a report in a sense…. don’t get me wrong, I LOVE doing it, and I am really sad that I’m not going to be able to do it anymore… but it’s like, I love that she is proud of me, cause I know she is, I think overall, my story is a big fucking success

I hope she’s proud of herself as well…. if not….. BE PROUD DAMMIT!

the way it works up here, and for all I know, everywhere, is that a therapist can’t see a client outside of a professional setting for 2 years since the last actual session. I understand the need for the rule, and how it has to be sacrosanct (love that word), but well, it still kinda sucks, cause I would love to share a bottle of wine, chat, listen to some music, and teach her how to hoop in the park…. I know the girls would love her

and I also feel that she is on a similar journey to mine, to the journeys that we are all on, the people close to me, the seekers. Something I’ve found in all of us in the group, some more than others, we are all happy, but unsatisfied, we are searching for something, exploring life still, we aren’t sitting on the couch letting life go by

and it would be cool to share that journey, like I said before, I don’t actually know a thing about her, but I’ve learned from her eyes, her little reactions, her body speaks volumes even as she tries to keep herself under control, and there is a kindred spirit in there…. and I really hope I’m wrong…. but I have this feeling that she doesn’t have that many safe people close to her…. I’ll let her analyze that, hehe

all that roundabout stuff to say

thank you doc, thank you so much for allowing me to find myself, for forcing me to do the one thing I was always too terrified to do, the one thing I always wanted someone else to do for me

make a choice

and I did

and I fucking won

love you girl, see you in 2 years, in my park, under my damn tree šŸ˜€


***: notice what I did, completely subconsciously in that story… when I was describing the possible male future, I said “him”, when I was describing the possible female future, I said “my”….. this is what I mean by over analyzing, heheheheheh


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