Just under a decade ago, I found myself in a challenging place in life. I was in my late 20s, living in London, and while my job was stable, my personal life was in disarray. Following a painful breakup, I was temporarily staying on my sister’s sofa, subsisting on rice noodles. My work became my refuge, a distraction from the emotional turmoil that surrounded me.
In times of crisis, I often resort to therapy. Since I was eight, I had been in and out of various forms of therapy, from school counseling to cognitive behavioral therapy, and even Freudian and Jungian psychotherapy. I had become somewhat of a veteran in the realm of mental health treatment. Despite the ups and downs of therapy, I firmly believe in its power to heal and its importance in society. When finances get tight, therapy is one of the last things I would consider cutting back on.
After a year of searching for a new therapist, I decided to take the plunge following my breakup. I spoke to three potential candidates over the phone, sharing my story repeatedly, but none of them resonated with me. Then, a friend recommended James, a psychoanalyst she had seen for two years. Although there are ethical concerns about social crossovers in therapy, I felt there was no conflict of interest. During our initial conversation, I was struck by James’s curiosity; he seemed genuinely interested in my experiences.
Our first meeting took place in his flat in Hackney. Each session began with me removing my shoes and settling onto his sofa. He would greet me from the kitchen, bringing in a pot of tea, and we would dive into our discussions. Regardless of how difficult a session had been, he always ended with a cheerful, “OK, see you then!” as I left. This lightness was comforting, especially during tough conversations.
James and I met weekly for two years until he announced he would be moving his practice to south London. The thought of losing a therapist can be destabilizing, and I was apprehensive about the longer commute. However, I decided to continue seeing him, even if it meant a longer journey.
His new practice was located in a Victorian house near a graveyard, surrounded by busy roads. The interior was only partially renovated, with institutional chairs and pretty tissue boxes. It felt less cozy than his flat, but I preferred it. It felt more professional.
As time went on, I began taking notes during our sessions. This helped me focus and allowed me to capture his insights. However, I started to notice that his guidance felt less impactful. I began to question whether it was his workload or my own issues that were causing this shift. My notes became a reference point, and looking back, I can see that things had changed long before I realized it.
One of the main reasons I sought therapy was to address the disconnect between how I appeared to the world and how I truly felt. James pointed out that my split was more pronounced than most. He described me as “highly functioning” yet “fragile” and “damaged,” attributing this to a history of betrayals in my childhood. I found a strange sense of delight in this diagnosis; finally, someone understood my complexity.
During one session, James mentioned he had observed my demeanor while walking down the street. He noted the contrast between my outward appearance and the person sitting in front of him. This comment unsettled me, yet I felt flattered. I began to wonder if he was watching me outside of our sessions, which added a layer of complexity to our therapeutic relationship.
As spring approached, I found myself feeling increasingly angry and unsettled. I had rehearsed what I would say to James about his comments, but when I arrived for our session, he shared that he would be leaving the country for a few months due to personal issues. My anger quickly morphed into panic, and I remained silent.
James was a middle-aged man with a kind demeanor, and he had a way of making me feel comfortable. However, as our sessions progressed, I began to feel a shift in our dynamic. He made comments about my appearance, which left me questioning the boundaries of our relationship. I felt relieved when he announced his upcoming departure, but I also felt a sense of loss.
As autumn arrived, I had settled into my own flat and started a new relationship. During my final session with James, I realized that our therapeutic relationship had evolved beyond a transactional one. We discussed the nature of change, and he shared a personal anecdote that left me feeling confused and unsettled. I sensed that a line had been crossed, and the trust we had built began to curdle.
After that session, I had no intention of contacting James again. However, life took an unexpected turn when I found out I was pregnant. After much deliberation, I decided to have an abortion, but complications arose, leading to a second procedure. In my desperation, I reached out to James for support. Our conversation was brief, and while he was calm and caring, I regretted contacting him.
Months later, he emailed me, suggesting we reconnect. I had already found a new therapist, a woman who had been transformative in my healing journey. She encouraged me to report James for his unprofessional behavior, but I chose not to. I eventually replied to his email, letting him know it was over. His response was quick, acknowledging the difficulty of my decision.
In hindsight, I realized that the therapeutic relationship had been violated. Transference and countertransference are common in therapy, but a good therapist knows how to maintain boundaries. What happened with James was a breach of trust, and I understood that I had to move forward without him.
As I reflect on my experiences, I recognize the importance of speaking about mental health and the healing journey. Sharing my story has been a part of my healing process, and I hope it encourages others to seek help and speak openly about their struggles.
Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, has also emphasized the importance of discussing mental health, particularly in relation to suicide. She believes that speaking about such topics can aid in the healing process, allowing individuals to confront their pain and find support. By sharing our stories, we can create a community of understanding and compassion, helping others navigate their own paths to healing.
In conclusion, therapy can be a powerful tool for healing, but it is essential to maintain boundaries and trust within the therapeutic relationship. My journey has taught me the value of seeking help and the importance of speaking out about mental health. By sharing our experiences, we can foster a culture of openness and support, ultimately aiding in the healing process for ourselves and others.
Source: The Guardian
