Therapy and Attachment Wounds
Apparently, this has been in my drafts since April 2018. Though I have made a lot of progress, these same feelings still come up from time to time. Weirdly enough, while I am trying to take a break from writing about estrangement and grief, I believe this post is still connected to that.
My weakness? Goodbyes.
Endings.
Change. (well, sometimes)
I have experienced many of these. So why hasn't it gotten any easier?
I have always been a relational person. When I connect with someone, it is always meaningful to me. I have never had service level friendships, and in small ways people can have an impact on me. I find comfort in their presence. I feel good about who I am when I am with them. I admire certain people in a quiet way, and I don't realize just how attached I am until our paths are finished crossing. I do not have an anxious attachment style, but the traits can certainly affect me at times.
I trust there can be meaning for those who enter my life, and I also trust that some people aren't meant to stay. This is a topic that my wise mind practically does a sweaty workout over (interesting description, Haley). Still, my emotional mind is saying "Yeah ok wise mind; that doesn't matter because it feels like this-"
I have experienced this many times since childhood. A nurse after a surgery, a friend, my school social worker, a teacher. It does not matter who or the amount of time spent. My heart leaps out to people whom I feel safe with. I have learned to tell people when they are appreciated, because can you imagine how many would not know if they were never told?
People see my humanity and vulnerability to be a strength, because very few allow themselves to feel this much. Though, I don't really think I can help it.
What this post is truly about isn’t so much about becoming attached to anyone. This is about something I have experienced since I first found a therapist I connected with. The feelings of attachment hit me the worst in therapy, especially this past year.
I am not embarrassed for going to therapy, but I am embarrassed by my attachment to therapists I feel safe with. I know there is nothing wrong with me for feeling this way, I just wish I didn’t.
I have been with several counselors. The first, I was not attached to at all, and our work together did not last long. The second, I was not too attached to either, but I surprised myself when I cried in our last session together before I left for college. Maybe I didn’t think I was attached, but I was gaining more than I thought by having someone listen to me week after week. When I started college, I immediately registered with my school’s counseling center, as I had been hospitalized just months prior. That office was my safe space on campus.
I was in counseling at my college's center for 2 years. My first termination (I hate that word) was at the end of my freshman year, after working with an intern. I will call her J. I knew my time with J would end after her internship, but I did not know I would be so sad when the time came. In our last meeting she handed me a funny drawing of my favorite animal, an elephant, with a list of qualities I share with them. She wrote that I had made an impact on her. It was such a comfort to have that to take with me. My sophomore year, I said goodbye to my next college counselor, S. I planned to work with S until graduation, but my plans drastically changed. My private college closed due to financial trouble. I did not expect to love my school as much as I did, and I did not expect to be leaving after my sophomore year. S, who knew of the intern’s drawing from the year before, sketched me a picture of an elephant as well. This counselor was actually an artist, so I love to see the comparisons between their pictures.
drawing by one of my former college counselors
Even though I was studying to be a social worker, the therapeutic relationship was something I could not wrap my head around. It's not that I don't know. I have enough understanding of the ethics, the boundaries, the process. I understand the difference. It is a safe space to be able to open up. I understand the professionalism, that it is not a "friendship." But it is a unique, and special kind of relationship and it makes sense why people get attached. I am sure if I sought counseling as a child it would be just as hard, if not more.
For many weeks I would be absolutely vulnerable with someone, even at the most difficult times. When the work ends, my heart hurts when it hits that there is now a "goodbye." The goodbye is most painful, because it is not in a way where we can stay in touch. It is a final, our work here is done, and it is time to move on. When someone can be there for you when you feel alone, believe in you, support you, share a laugh, a smile, hold your cries, your story- and then never speak again...it is hard.
I try my best to be thankful that we had that time together, rather than focusing on the time we cannot have.
It hasn't gotten much easier. I don’t dwell on it as much, but I still have triggers from time to time. I have asked myself if it's worth it? Is the work worth the pain I feel with the goodbyes? College counseling, yes, is supposed to be temporary. A part of me still does not understand why these relationships can't continue. Obviously, I do know why. What I mean is how this heart of mine does not hurt any less with this understanding.
In addition to college counseling, I worked with a therapist for about 2 years who was originally through BetterHelp. She later moved to her own practice where I followed via telehealth. I never met her in-person. This is a complicated story. It is also just hard for me to talk about. I had an endometriosis surgery, (a disease I knew this therapist had as well). I was hospitalized for suicidal ideation within a month after that surgery. While in the hospital, and after I was discharged, she did not address my hospitalization at all. I was very depressed, and likely had some suicidal ideation, but the reason I went to the hospital was because she told me she would call the police on me if I didn’t go. Everything changed once we resumed therapy. She may have been going through something in her personal life. Maybe it was counter-transference, but she turned cold to me. I was reserved, and asking myself what I did wrong. Someone I used to look forward to speaking with, who knew everything about me, became almost a different person. I felt so small.
I did not know our last session would be our last. I felt so uncomfortable during it. When she asked to schedule our next meeting I told her I would reach out to her instead. I definitely waited weeks before I called. I guess the time just passed, and I felt safer not meeting, until I finally reached out again. I didn’t realize it then, but I wanted to wait because I was protecting myself.
When I had called her later, she told me she already closed my file. I feel like this is the part of the story where I would take a long pause. I was shocked. It had been 2 years of us working together, and she just dropped me. She never contacted me during that time to see how I was doing; She never contacted me to see if I wanted to continue services. There was no rule about how long I could go without seeing her before termination. If there was a rule, she never made it clear to me. She still didn’t care enough to try. I felt betrayed, hated, and worthless.
I don’t remember everything she said in that last conversation, but she spoke down to me and her words stung. She basically told me I should have known better. What should I have known? I remember during our call I told her how confused I was, but I didn’t beg, I didn’t fight to stay. I believe I said, “ok” and might have even thanked her for everything. I knew she was done with me, and I just let her get everything out of her system before the call ended and I could fall apart. I allowed this person to bully me, and horribly let me down. I became this child who believed she was in trouble, and who believed she deserved it.
I wanted desperately to fix it. I had a breakdown in my college dorm. I don’t think I can adequately describe my pain in writing. It is a pain someone would only have to feel to truly understand everything that transpired between us. My body physically hurt. I felt like I was having a heart attack. My world was ending. I thought I did something wrong. I remember calling my best friend while hysterically crying. She knew how much this therapist made an impact on me. She was just as shocked and confused as I was.
I had leftover liquid codeine from when I had bronchitis. I took the rest of the bottle because I wanted to sleep to avoid the pain I was feeling. The pain could kill me, but I wasn’t using the codeine to harm myself. I didn’t have that much of it to end my life. I just wanted to stop feeling what I was feeling for a little while. I woke up feeling numb.
Even though I was so hurt, I felt badly for this therapist and whatever I had done to her. You see, I did not see this as only a betrayal; I saw this as me ruining the best thing that has happened to me. I wanted so badly to apologize to her. I think I recall sitting on my dorm floor whispering to whoever or whatever could be hearing me, to make sure she was OK. I figured for someone to do that, she must be really struggling. I look back now, and I can’t believe it. I cared more about her than I did myself. I wish my anger turned outward then, not inward towards myself. I know now I did not deserve it.
I finally found someone good.
I have been working with my psychiatrist for a little over 4 years now. When I found her, I was desperately seeking someone to help me to get off a slew of medications I was given in the psychiatric hospital. She prescribes, but she also does therapy. When I started working with her, I told myself I would not become attached. I went in with the purpose of detaching from her completely. I was going to be upfront about why I was there, share as much as possible, but also keep my wall up. I did not want to get hurt again. It took a long while, but eventually after developing rapport I told her about my previous therapist. I was so ashamed when talking about it, fearing she would also see me differently. She surprised me when I saw her become baffled, and that it wasn’t at me. She validated me, and confirmed that the things this therapist said and did were wildly unethical. This was about her, and not about me. I needed to hear that. Still, the fear was there with my psychiatrist. I would not do anything wrong in fear of her leaving .
When I reached 2 years of working with her, I panicked. I had never worked with a therapist longer than 2 years and I was afraid an ending was coming. We had a lot of conversations about my fear of her firing me. I needed a lot of reassurance. She said, “How about I make you a promise that in the unlikely situation that would be decision I would make, I would bring it up with you first. Not just make it unilaterally without any warning or discussion.” I agreed.
One day during our session she had to take a phone call from someone who continued to call her. She said, “I’m sorry I have to take this, it’s their first day of camp.” I heard her say, “This is ___ and ____’s mom.” I remember thinking, cool she’s a mom. Later on however, this made me very sad. I could not truly understand my emotions. Was I jealous of her children for having her as a mom? Was I sad because I had a perception of what her life was like compared to my own? It took me months before I told her about this. I cried the whole time. I knew I wasn’t supposed to know about her life, but it wasn’t my fault she answered her call in front of me. I didn’t know what she would say. I wondered if she was regretting that accidental self-disclosure. Luckily, it was a helpful conversation. She did not make me feel weird about anything.
I was insecure about attachment, but through her I learned that attachment can be a good thing. In relation to my trauma, I remember her saying, “It is a sign of resilience, because people who did not get their early needs met, don’t even see in people the potential of being in a relationship with them in any way.” I remember saying, Really?” “Haley, the fact that you can still connect and empathize- that’s strength.”
We talked about how what I want is not necessarily her in my life in a more personal way, but I want what she represents, what she has been to me, and who she is in this (therapeutic) relationship. The fact that these feelings came up with her, show that we are doing the right work together. I never knew that having the hard conversations about your therapist, with your therapist, could actually help them to help you. I still struggle at times. I get very overwhelmed and sad when our sessions end. I know I will see her again, but I still cry when I have to leave. We use the last 10-15 minutes to talk about something light, and to help me feel secure before I leave her office. We have made huge strides together. She reminds me that we are a team. I’m so grateful to have found a great, trauma-informed therapist, who I trust and have built great rapport with. I don’t know how long our work will last, but she has assured me it can last as long as I want and need it to. I have made much progress with her. Despite these past 4 years, I know I still have a lot more work to do in therapy.
Therapy is practicing. It is practicing someone supporting you and being able to accept that support. It is practicing what a healthy relationship looks like, so that when you go into your own life, those will be the relationships you’ll be able to build.
Choosing to begin therapy can take tremendous courage. Taking a chance on a therapist and hoping they don’t hurt you, is scary. I have worked with many different people, as I have moved and experienced many changes in my life. I know that if one therapist doesn’t work, it doesn’t mean none of them will. Therapy is a privilege that not everyone can access. I am very aware of this. As someone who has healed more and more since beginning therapy, I am grateful for it. I am grateful for having that space to be supported, and work solely on myself.
Still, whether it is a therapist or someone else, I will always wish that the good people will stick around.
8 years ago..the age I started therapy