I'm 54 years old. Between the ages of 28 and 34, so for six years, I saw a therapist and had an excellent therapeutic relationship with him. I learned and grew so much as a person during those 6 years. The therapy took place through the VA (Veterans Administration) system.

Well, one day I went in for my usual Tuesday morning session only to be told, by my therapist, that it was our last session. He had been transferred. No warning, nothing. Six years and BANG. End of therapy.

I felt like I was dying. I mean, really dying. I had lost my father at the age of 8 and I felt like I was going through the pain of that all over again. I remember just sitting in my home and scream-sobbing, I was so distraught.

Surprise...I lived. I still have dreams about my therapist. I still miss him, after all these years! I sometimes wonder what he's doing, where he is, and so on. I'd love to talk with him sometime. Or email him. I'm sure he wonders about me, too.

The most important advice I can give is what I try my best to do myself. As I'm living each day, I make an effort to honor that wonderful therapeutic alliance by using what I learned in therapy, and loving others just like my therapist cared about and loved me. Maybe that means a smile, or maybe it means listening to someone in need, or maybe it means volunteering. I still use the tools I learned in therapy to improve my life. I mean, I really work at it, every day.

I fully understand how hard what you're going through is. My heart goes out to you. But please take what you got from your therapist and use it to continue to better your life.