At the beginning of this month, I let my therapist know that I would be canceling for March while J and I attended couples’ therapy, since I couldn’t afford both. When, after the 1st session with our couples’ lady, I told J as much, he looked agog — horrified, morelike. Uh, so maybe it would be good for me to see her while we go through this? Perhaps he was right, so I scheduled back on with my own lady.
Then, after our 2nd session with the couples’ person, we broke up and I had a little more funds to throw at my own personal therapy… but really, I didn’t want to. I was sick with the flu last week, so we had a phone session instead, yet as we hung up, it was me who asked, “Same time next week?”
But the truth is I’d meant to use that session to end things with her! I didn’t want to continue going. Part of the reason we began together was so that I could parse out what was going on with me and J. Now that that’s (relatively) settled, I truly don’t feel the need to keep going.
After that call, I wrote in my journal, “So, let’s get this straight: You’re continuing to see a therapist because you think that’s what she needs?” And so it came that I emailed her yesterday to officially and for all (foreseeable) time cancel our upcoming appointments.
She wrote back to say okay, but also that this on-again-off-again with her was redolent of how it’s been with J, and that if I wanted to schedule a last session to process this idea, and how our therapy has gone, she’s open to it.
NO! I don’t. And YES, she’s right about the parallels.
When I was in the final phases of processing and deciding whether to leave this relationship, a friend said that we’re having a silly-putty breakup. Huh? You know when you break apart silly putty in a slow way, she said, it dangles on, a thin strand getting weaker forever? Well, when you break it apart quickly, the whole thing breaks off in two pieces at once, with a clean edge to both sides.
My breakups over the last dozen years have allll been the llllong silly-putty break-ups. Months of questioning. Months of negotiating out of it, into it, back out of it. Months of tearful phone calls to friends about “what to do.” And months of continuing to sleep with the person I’ve told I don’t want to be in a relationship with anymore.
And painful. So, when my therapist lady asks if I want to process any more? For the love — No!! I am so done with processing. Can I change this habit of stretching my decisions on into infinity? Yes, I believe I can. Do I have to give this relationship any more than I already have? No.
So, I believe I’ll just email her a simple thank you, put my two halves of putty away, and go for a goddamn walk.