He told me that he is probably leaving his practice and will be working for a large agency about 50 miles away. Oh, he promised that he will still be able to see me, but...
In that tiny moment of silence between when Mr.S told me his new plans, and when I began to shut down, Mr.S began to speak quickly as if to stave off the inevitable implosion he knew was next.
He felt the need to explain why he made this decision - in many ways. Truth is, I totally get it. It makes sense that he would take that job for the better of his future. I told him he'd be crazy not to take it.
After all, there is a part of me who understands that I cannot be a catalyst to any personal decision Mr.S makes. I am selfish enough tho to want a little more consideration. For nearly 2 hours, I sat there, totally forcing myself to say all the things I went to say and I was so proud of myself. I wanted more from my therapy and I'd managed to ask for it - or so I'd thot. Maybe not, now I don't know.
After saying all that, Mr.S then shared his news. I was devastated. I'd just shared a request for changing the direction of my therapy, and he was telling me there may not be any more. --- But with that statement, let me elucidate: Mr.S DID tell me he would still be able to see me. Mr.S DID tell me I would still have access to his personal cell number. He DID tell me not to worry because my sessions would just be in a different building in a different room (maybe on Saturday). He DID try to suppress my fears and concerns.
But at the same time, the part of me who is quick on her thinking feet, calculated: Okay, Mr.S lives 10 miles east of where I live. He will be driving 45 miles further east to work each day. That means he will not be getting to his home town until nearly 6 each day. I work for the government, he will be too, and I know that he will be exhausted at the end of each day, not good an environment for doing therapy. I also know that I cannot expect him to give up time on one of his days off (Saturday). Every avenue I look at this from, it spells guilt (for me), or no time for him to see me.
As I was leaving his office, he wrote up my receipt, I took it and asked if we should make another appointment. He didn't look up at me, but said, "Okay, if you want to." I made the appt but I'm not sure I'll go. I think he's done with me and wanting to "move on".
There isn't anyone else here in my little town that I can see and I can't afford to drive an hour to see someone else who will charge me $150 per 50 minutes.
I feel thrown away. I shouldn't, but I do. All the excitement of moving forward with a new direction of therapy is collapsed and laying in shards at my feet.