Warning: suicide discussed. May trigger some people.
Last week I had a really rough session with V. It’s easier for me to talk about it now, now that I have had some time to put things into perspective, but it is still a very difficult issue for me.
It’s about termination and the end of the work we do together. I don’t remember how V had brought it up because my immediate reaction was an emotional one – an intensely extreme one at that. Almost immediately I accused her of abandoning me. I wanted to bring up rage and anger, but that inevitably led to me breaking down in tears. The fear I felt was cataclysmic. The sadness was overwhelming. I had to leave V’s office to hide in the washroom for a while as the sobbing got the better of me. I was a mess.
V tried hard to let me know this wasn’t going to happen immediately. She said she would be willing to contract for another year, after which we may cut down sessions to fortnightly. It’s a professional relationship, I understood that, but it was tough to hear those words being said.
And no matter how she tried to reassure me she wouldn’t “dump” me, that was all I could hear her say. The foundation has to be laid. It is the beginning of the end. It may be another year from now, but the reality does not change, no matter how much I don’t want to hear or talk about it. And for that, she has to prepare me, knowing how hard it would be for me.
After the session, V wanted to make me a cup of tea and suggested that I sat in the waiting room for a while until I felt better. But I left immediately after the session and headed in to work. Throughout the day, I would break down into tears many times. It felt as though my entire world had come to a standstill and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t imagine ever smiling, living, or eating again. I would call V again in the afternoon, seeking that reassurance that she was still there. Her words would be something I clung onto like a life preserver – “I will not abandon you”.
But that brings little comfort, even though it is enough to preserve my life for now. I cannot expect to be in therapy or to see V for the rest of my life. V works for a public service, and as such, resources are limited. Even though V has reassured me that termination would be made on a clinical basis, I know that there will come a time when it has to be done. Otherwise the ineffectiveness of therapy would have to be declared – to me, this is merely an “out” for those professionals to dump you if you are still not “better”.
This whole week has been rough. I’ve had to consider the thought of existing without V and my conclusion at this point in time is that I cannot do it. If V had meant to dump me in the near future, say next week or next month, I know that the pain of that would drive me to suicide. A year from now? I don’t know, but I’ve lived this entire life fixated on one figure after another and a year from now, I know that an end to my relationship with V will still drive me to suicide.
So this week, my thoughts have hovered almost constantly on ending my life. I have no life without V. How sad is that? That my life has been reduced to my weekly therapy sessions. How shameful is that? My heart agonizes over this, over this insatiable need for care, for validation, for love. My heart is torn, over the shame of it all.
I’ve been pretending to live an independent life when in truth, my entire world rests on one individual. My world is so extremely fragile. If that one individual is removed, my world will collapse. Did that surprise me? Yes. It surprised me a bit. I always knew I was attached to V, but it has struck me a somewhat unexpected blow to come to the realisation that I would need to take my own life if she wasn’t there anymore.
I’m scared. I’m scared about the possibility of this.