Bridge: burned

I broke up with my therapist yesterday. It was one of the more difficult conversations I have had to have with someone in a while, not counting my attempts to update our address through the automated voice response systems at Comcast, Chase Bank and PG&E.

I had tried to break up with her last week and it didn't stick, so I found myself back there again this week to make it abundantly clear that this would be my last session.

She wanted to really understand my decision and what was driving it. This led to an exchange that was sort of like watching a hockey team warm up the goalie: shot after shot after shot, and me in the crease doing my best to deflect.

I made it clear that I didn't think I was "done" with therapy - I just didn't want to do anymore of it with her right now. Nonetheless, she saw ample reason to question the wisdom of my decision. And her inside knowledge of, you know, all my vulnerable spots, insecurities and weaknesses made her assault especially potent.

"In my experience pregnancy can bring up a lot of issues around your own relationship with your mother..."

"Do you really think it wise to discontinue our work together during this incredibly tumultuous and challenging time in your life?"

"Aren't you interested in exploring {insert major life issue} further?"

And my favorite: "You know, as I see it you're really just getting started."

At the end of the 50 minutes I left and will not go back. On my way out the door, her parting words were "My door's always open! Call any time!"

Unlikely.