About 13+ years ago was when I first caught sight of Dr. R (whom I'll call Dr. Ripley). It was my very first of 10 psychiatric hospitalizations, and he happened to be my psychiatrist during that hospitalization. I was so ill with mania with mixed features, and also detoxing from alcohol. When he said my name, standing 6' 6.5" tall in front of me, I was struck by Cupid's arrow. His voice is mellifluous and though he has always had a rather formal way about him, he has a deep caring spirit deep down inside of him that I've always been able to recognize.

After my first hospitalization, I didn't see him again for about a year. By then I had been hospitalized another two times and gone through Intensive Outpatient Programs (IOP), and an outside psychiatrist. After perhaps my third IOP, my therapist there recommended Dr. Ripley as a private psychiatrist. Of course I recognized his name, and eagerly accepted my therapist's offer to arrange an appointment with him.

Over the years, I developed a deep erotic transference for Dr. Ripley. For a while it was perhaps unhealthy, but luckily it didn't end the doctor-patient relationship. He was fully aware of my adoration for him, but I think he was too uncomfortable to really talk to me about it, so he would put on a professional face, only to be roused (though not aroused to my knowledge) on occasions, especially when I was manic.

Dr. Ripley never fueled the fire of my transference, and as I accumulated more time stable over the years, my erotic transference seemed to change a bit into more of a close bond between a father or mother and an adult child. I had lost my mother only about 5-6 months before first meeting him over 13 years ago, and my father, though still living to this day, has always been a bit distant, and grew more distant with time. With all past friends long gone, and just my loving husband for support, Dr. Ripley was the second leg of my support. Bad therapists didn't form a third leg, until about 4 years ago. It was at that time that my transference transformed from erotic to more paternal.

Every year in the summer, Dr. Ripley takes a 5 to 6 week vacation to his summer home. I'd say that 10 out of the 12 years I've seen him privately, I've grown ill. This year is no exception, though my illness is fairly mild. I know his absence is the main trigger though. The recent departure of my therapist of 5 years, didn't help.

Dr. Ripley is almost in his mid 70s. I am in my mid 40s. I have no children, just my husband. With the loss of a real parental figure, Dr. Ripley is obviously quite important to me. However, even though he's stated he has no intention to retire (a statement that gave me great pleasure), I know that he will stop practicing at some point in the future. It is also very likely that my husband and I will relocate abroad. My husband's desired timeline is within 3-5 years. Obviously at that time, I will need to part from my psychiatrist.

I am very concerned for myself about the future. I dread losing Dr. Ripley. I dread losing the comfort of my native home. I dread the stress involved in adapting to a new environment, and learning a new language at what will likely be 50 at that time. Who besides my husband will provide a stabilizing leg? I'm so afraid that I will feel figuratively crippled, or maybe even literally in a mental health sense.

[toomanycats]

It is true that someday, we say goodbye for good. That is true for all relationships and, indeed, for all things in life. Nothing is permanent, and that is the hardest thing to accept. How desperately do we want something so reliable that it can be promised to always, always be there?

One thing that has brought me a great deal of comfort is having experienced the tremendous loss of a therapist and then having seen that, if I reached out for help, I could still find it. That goodbye to my "heart therapist" (I don't know what else to call him) did not mean being alone. I thought I couldn't survive losing him, but I did. It hurt more than I can describe, but I survived it, and time passed, and I eventually was able to breathe again...smile again...and bond again.

It's ok to feel dread. Fear is a normal human emotion, and fearing losing someone/fearing the pain of goodbye is normal. Unfortunately, though, no matter how much we wish it to be true, there is no way out but through. But, you will get through. And, you will not have to do it alone. I promise.

Thank you for your lovely response, toomanycats! And thanks to the many others who left me hugs in this thread.

[coolibrarian]

Originally Posted by BirdDancer

Every year in the summer, Dr. Ripley takes a 5 to 6 week vacation to his summer home.

Wow. That's a long break, at least imho.

It is also very likely that my husband and I will relocate abroad. My husband's desired timeline is within 3-5 years.

Does this mean it is more your husband's desire to relocate, rather than yours. I am not judging, just asking.

I dread losing the comfort of my native home. I dread the stress involved in adapting to a new environment, and learning a new language at what will likely be 50 at that time. Who besides my husband will provide a stabilizing leg? I'm so afraid that I will feel figuratively crippled, or maybe even literally in a mental health sense.

I can't imagine relocating to a different state, let alone a different country where I'd have to learn a new language, etc. Good luck to you.