I've had depression my entire adult life and I've seen a handful of therapists over the years. Several were quite forgettable. One guy was creepy. Dr Ruth was really great (motherly, understanding, compassionate). One dude was too old school and pathologized everything (made me feel sick).

Then I met J. He was different somehow. He was great. He was just so normal. So down-to-earth! I could talk to him. All of a sudden everything opened up for me and I actually talked for the first time ever about... the stuff I never talk about. And then that stuff wasn't so horrible or scary anymore! Isn't that exactly how therapy is supposed to work? It was great. He helped me tremendously. He changed my life. (In a way, I even met my fiancé because of him). I felt so incredibly grateful to have finally found the right therapist for me. I felt like I had someone who understood me. I wasn't alone anymore.

But then I had to go and **** it up. I don't know why. In January I restarted taking some anti-depressants I had been on before but something went wrong and they made me suicidal. I was in so much pain. I was desperate. I said some horrible things to him. I apologized but it did no good. He told me he couldn't help me anymore: I needed another kind of therapy that he wasn't trained in called DBT. So after two and a half years, that's it. It's done. Best therapist relationship of my life over, just like that. And I'm devastated.

Now I have a new therapist. He's like the last one: easy to talk to, friendly, down-to-earth. but I'm scared. I'm telling him all this deeply personal stuff now because I'm so desperate. I'm setting myself up to be hurt again I know! but I'm hurting so much now I'm willing to undergo future pain for short-term relief now. I'm telling myself that I won't let it happen again. I won't let myself develop feelings for this new person. But c'mon. Is that realistic? Do I really think I can go see him every week and tell him all this deeply personal **** and expect NOT to feel a ****ing thing??

Why am I doing this to myself? Why do we do this to ourselves? I mean think about it: we're sitting there talking to these people who LOOK like friends and ACT like friends and TALK like friends BUT THEY AREN'T OUR FRIENDS. They can leave at any time and break our hearts BECAUSE TO THEM IT WASN'T FRIENDSHIP AT ALL. It was just... business.

I wish someone would just shoot me before I fall in love again.