“How’s it feel to be dumped?” my newest therapist asked.

I looked at him, stunned. Silence filled the room, and my glasses fogged.

“How’s it feel to be dumped, Rebecca?” he asked again.

I felt myself lift up out of my body and could see myself fidgeting with my hands. There were teardrops on my pants, and my feet were twisted like a French braid. I opened my mouth to speak and began choking.

“She dumped you, Rebecca. Your therapist dumped you,” he said.

I was numb and disengaged for a long time until the smell of sage brought me back to my body. I felt my feet again on the floor and looked past the therapist’s shoulder, locking eyes with a book on mindfulness. “Let go,” I read.

I had grown to truly hate that pillar.

“She dumped you.” His words replayed in my head, and I could feel my shoes coming off as my feet continued to twist. I dissociated again and floated higher.

“I’ll see you next week, Rebecca,” he said. I quickly stood and left to cry more in my car. His words replayed in my head that day and for the next nine months.

Over the year, I had lost interest in what used to excite me. I lived in a fog, coming out only briefly before returning. The slightest change in my day, and I would break into tears.

I feel her absence most on Sundays. I often wake up at 2 a.m. and sob into a pillow. I feel like a child who has lost her mom. There is a hole in my heart, and I can’t seem to fill it.

I flip through emails at times and reminisce about the good days when things were different. I had never written much until she encouraged me to do so. I’d email her frequently when I was struggling or wanted to share something beautiful that happened. She was always there. She was always present.

I had left therapy with her to try something else, thinking I could always return. When my next therapist didn’t work out, I realized I wasn’t ready to leave. I attempted to return, but my therapist had closed the door and kept it closed.

It’s been a year, and I still cry. She thought this would be healing, but it feels like hail hitting my skinless body.

Maybe there is a silver lining. I want to believe there is. I want to believe she loved me and is doing this to help me heal. I want this to be so, but the words, “she dumped you” just keep replaying in my mind.

How’s it feel to be dumped? It feels like my fractured self is falling with no ground beneath it.

How’s it feel to be dumped? It feels like a tale that replays over and over again in my life.

How’s it feel to be dumped? It hurts. It truly hurts.

I was told that time heals all wounds.

And yet, I still miss her just as I did 365 days ago.

I sit now in therapy with someone new.

I didn’t choose her.

The universe did.

I didn’t want this, but maybe there is a plan.

Maybe this is where I am supposed to be.

Maybe I am okay.

I smile at my new therapist.

I like her.

She’s funny.

She makes me hold a picture of myself when I was five.

Together, we have found the hole. Together, we are healing it.

~