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My final session with Ms. Analyst happened over three weeks ago. It hasn't taken me all this time to write another blog because I have nothing to say. Actually, I may have more to talk about than I ever have in the history of Mr. Analysand. But I didn't know where to begin.
I have to start somewhere though, right? And I think I better start with telling about what The Last Session was like. I think all of us in therapy have imagined and imagined and imagined how the final day with your therapist will feel. How it will go down...if it will ever happen.
Well happen it does, and as I mentioned in "The Next Day", for me that was just about the fastest 45 minutes of my life. I admit I had a game plan. Sort of. I knew what I wanted to say, I just wasn't sure how, or when in the session, I would say it.
I could try and describe it all in great detail - the parting thoughts, the bittersweet exchanges, the moments of joy, doubt, longing, and intimacy - but the most important thing to share is simply that all those things were there, and them some.
I can tell you exactly what happened at the end however.
Counting Down...
As our session came to its final couple of minutes, a slowly satisfying wave washed under me. "I feel like reciting ‘Goodnight Moon' to the room," I said, and I started to look around at the furniture, artwork and walls that had all been silent but somehow active partners in my experience. "Goodbye chair. Goodbye couch. Goodbye maze painting. Goodbye rug."
A silence fell over the room again. One minute to go. I was finished. Or was I? One final thought erupted out with a relieved urgency - an additional concept I had wanted to touch on.
"And I'm glad," I said, "that we were able to ‘land the plane' properly. We were able to pick a disembarkment date and work up to it. My deepest fear was that we would be ripped apart by something out of my control, or yours, before we were finished. But that didn't happen." And with that, I truly had left it all out on the field.
Another moment. Two. And then Ms. Analyst spoke up, "I think we are out of time," she said, in a way that was, what...Gentle? Affectionate? Totally OK? Sure enough, the clock now said 5:00. I wasn't one to argue - it was time for me to go. I felt funny about that. But I also felt sure of it.
I swung my legs off the couch, took two steps to the table across from it, and put my wallet, keys and phone in my pocket like I'd done at the end of every other session for four years running. Then I turned to the right, time for The Handshake. One more connection for the pair to make.
Priceless Advice
As genuine warmth passed between our palms, Ms. Analyst looked right at me and dispensed one last piece of advice - as simple as it may prove everlasting.
She said, "You take good care."
I gazed back, but said nothing for a moment. Then I went to pick up my bag and said, "You too, Ms. Analyst."
"ULP," she replied, opening the door for me. I walked through.
Down the hall to the elevator. Out of the building, where the twilight bustle of 5th Avenue bubbled up, and coaxed me in.
**
Now as I approach a month apart from analysis, my mind constantly changes moods about what I've left behind. And what I'm moving towards.
Do I miss Ms. Analyst? Absolutely. Do I miss analysis itself? Only rarely. Was I right about the timing of my disembarkment? Down to the second. Do I wonder what we could have accomplished if Ms. Analyst and I had all the time in the world? Sure -- we met and exceeded so many goals by a mile. But others, we didn't even come close.
There is much I continue to struggle with. But if analysis itself is the operation, I understand now that only afterwards, when the procedure is done and you're off the table, can the healing begin. And that is what I'm doing today, and tomorrow, and I believe I can keep doing.
Ms. Analyst and I made many tools for me -- only now am I truly putting them to the test. I am using them to the best of my abilities. I am taking good care.
-- Mr. Analysand
