I was talking with a friend about therapy over dinner last night. She’s in, I’m out. I’m actually not going to a psychotherapist anymore–or going so randomly and infrequently that I don’t consider that I am “in” therapy any longer. After almost 20 years of nonstop psychotherapy, I can honestly say I’m done. Not “cured” and not finished forever, but for now I need a break, a long rest from dredging up all that haunts and hinders me, which is not very much anymore.
I’m in a good place right now, with my writing, my relationship, my finances, my illness(es) and such that I don’t need a weekly check-in. And, I’ve been feeling for some time that I need to be more independent of the mental healthcare system. I’m extremely grateful for all the support and help my most recent therapist provided, and still kind of angry about my other long term experiences with therapists. But no matter, I’ve come out the other side and feel good enough about stuff these days to go it alone.