I decided to find another therapist

This time a Christian and a specialist

She explained dissociative disorders

In a way that was less frightening

And gave tips on teaching my son to be mindful

I walked away both comfortable and okay

And as for my primary therapist

I guess it’s time to say goodbye

I cried in front of her a few times

That’s so rare.

I mean really really cried in front of her

She normalizes my struggles as a parent

Normalizes my struggle with self-harm

The part of me that carries anger

Trusts her.

So rare.

She normalizes my transference and says

“You can always keep me in your back pocket”

When I am dissociated

She teaches me to walk down into the dungeon

And pull my little girl out

She addresses my little girl

And that is what I need at times

She gives me a juice box and sometimes two

Last time even a granola bar

Because I didn’t eat breakfast

And now I must say goodbye

I felt so safe with her

When do you choose to find someone new

When the choice is safety versus

More specialized treatment?

Will I heal with this new person?

Or will I fall apart with every

time I must separate from someone I trust

For the rest of my life?

Am I making a good choice?

What if I miss her?

Am I stupid because I have attached?

I quit once because I realized I was attached

And now I must leave for good

Where will the rage inside go

If I am not safe anymore?

I need a hug.

And. My. Therapist.

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Saying Goodbye


I fold up the bed I meticulously created for her. I gather her clothes, dressing her in her favorite dress. Her hair is a mess, but I do my best to run my fingers through and pull it back into a ponytail.

Today I say goodbye. It is just a doll and yet, it feels like so much more. She was my childhood doll, the one I held when I was afraid; the one who kept me company at night or when I hid in the closet. She shared my dark secrets with me and her eyes recall more than I ever will.

I have felt discomfort since reuniting with her on Saturday. I had been hoping she would bring healing to the child inside, who is desperate for connection with her past. Last night, I tried to fix her hair and I removed her clothes to put on a new dress. There is blood on her.

I don’t remember the blood but the blood triggered a string of flashbacks. Now I am shaky when I see the doll because I recall just how much of my darkness and shame she was privy to. All of a sudden her sweet face looks demonic and her body feels violated.

I must say goodbye to her. But I say goodbye to more than just her. I’m not sure I can verbalize it just yet. My inner child is crying out and is desperate for her doll, but I must find a different way to soothe her. This doll is too painful. And yet, letting go is painful; my inner child feels I am abandoning her like I am abandoning the doll.

… And I might be desperately trying to do just that.

Her jacket is on and I give her a hug. It’s time to go to a new home. Stay safe, sweetheart. I love you.