After 5 months of intensive work with my therapist, I accepted that I had outgrown therapy and had met all my therapeutic goals. I terminated in April.

I know there is no right or wrong way to handle what happens post-termination. I've texted my former therapist a few times about whether he thinks we'll see each other someday in the future. I was frustrated when I got no response. He did not respond to texts even when I was still in therapy with him, so I don't know what I was hoping to gain by doing that. Reassurance, maybe? Perhaps I was avoiding having to start grieving the end of the relationship? I soon realised I was being stupid and impatient for agonising over his silence, because ideally, relationships evolve naturally and organically and should not be forced. Do I feel guilty about sending those texts? Not at all. It was simply part of the unscripted process of termination.

My last contact with him was through a letter I wrote at the end of May. In the letter I acknowledged that we did indeed have a strong bond and that I was receptive to his suffering too, but unfortunately the therapeutic framework prevented me from doing anything about it. I tried to make it clear that I intended to leave on good terms, and that I'd be happy to see him socially in the future if things ever go that way.

Two weeks after I wrote that letter, so many things happened -- all out of my control -- and I spiraled into another deep depression. This time I didn't have support from a therapist, and so I drew upon other resources to help me cope (crisis phone lines, short-term counseling, calling friends). It has not been easy, but I am managing.

All of this has evoked intense feelings regarding my former therapist. I feel guilty for ending therapy even though he didn't want to. I feel guilty for hurting his feelings. But therapy should be about me. I ended it because I felt I was ready to leave. His feelings shouldn't matter. But how could I be so cold to another human being?

Today I deleted documents on my computer that I had written for myself while I was in therapy. I'm going to put my journals containing my thoughts about my former therapist in a box. This apparent hole in my chest feels all too familiar -- it is, as anticipated, the unmistakeable feeling of grief. Why does it feel like a close friend has died? I can only imagine how my former therapist is feeling. I wonder how he is coping? I wonder if therapists miss their clients to the same degree that we miss them?