I've so been there, and it really hurts. The first therapist that I did real work with was amazing. I'd seen therapists before (in college - so a bit younger) and I didn't know what therapy really was or that the deep connection with the therapist is the only way it really works. After seeing her for 15 months I moved out the country. I was going ot be moving back 10 months later, but her husband was very sick and she didn't know if she'd still be practicing or working with 'deeper therapy' clients. I left at a really hard time in our work - we'd just started opening up some very difficult stuff. I thought I could just wait the 10 months and pray that we could work together again - I cried at first every single day. After a month, I hit a depression and I knew that I had to find someone else to keep safe. When I first started seeing this person, I just sat in her office not saying much. Then I started talking some, but everything she did I compared to my first therapist. Finally, about six months into our relationship, I started appreciating her. She was a good fit, thankfully, as I was in a place with literally one English-speaking therapists. In general, looking around isn't a bad thing, but hard. Getting back to my first therapist back in the US--I thought about her everyday, I loved to death the little teddy bear she gave me, I thought I would lose it (kill myself or something) if she couldn't see me when I returned. She couldn't. It was hard, but eventually (after a not great therapy relationship) I did find an amazing therapist. I've had three real therapy connections - all of them different, all of them wonderful. I keep solace in the fact that I've been able to do slightly different work with each one and I have inside of my heart three amazing therapists, not just one.

It's a very odd ending for such an intimate relationship, but I guess we go into it knowing this, not that it makes things easier