The One Where I Almost Broke Up with My Therapist
I wanted to quit therapy.
A part of me did anyway. But the therapist in me thought, That’s interesting. Talk to your therapist about it.
There was a time when it never would have occurred to me to tell my therapist I wanted to stop seeing her—unless the plan was to say that and bolt. But to talk about it? Way. Too. Scary.
Now that I’ve been on the other side, I know that talking about what is happening between us provides an opportunity to fully explore the truth of what is going on, which, with people who know how to meet you there, usually leads to depth, growth and better understanding. I knew that if I wanted to quit, talking about it was the only way to find out if quitting was the thing to do or if there was something deeper going on.
“So…I’m noticing that I want to quit therapy with you,” I began. “I even googled other therapists. And I wanted to tell you because I’m not sure what’s going on but I guess I have this fantasy that something could be better or different with someone else.”
To which my therapist replied (because she is one of those people who knows how to meet me there), “Well, that’s the thing about what we do here together, we get to talk about it. Tell me more.”
Let me backtrack a moment.
Leading up to this conversation, I had been reading The Divergent Mind by Jenara Nerenberg. I picked it up so I could learn more about ways to support the folks I work with but was quickly engrossed on a deeply personal level.
In addition to discussing women and their experiences with ADHD, autism, sensory processing disorder and synesthesia, the author talks about Highly Sensitive People—an personality trait I possess. What stood out in particular was when Jenara explained “masking” which is all the ways an individual learns to present themselves on the outside as if they are not living with the experience they are having on the inside. Whether neurodivergent or not, masking is something we all do. I had simply become disconnected from how much I do it myself around the sensate sensitivity I experience.
When I was growing up, nobody understood my sensitivity. As a result I got the idea that I was all wrong for being so sensitive. And while I thought I’d healed all the shame around this, I realized I had been masking with my therapist—and shame was at the heart of why.
I relayed all of this to her. She asked for an example of when I had masked with her and as I shared one, I suddenly began to sob. In my surprise I burst out with, “I don’t know why I am crying about this, it’s so stupid (here was the shame!) but one example is that when you get up to get a Kleenex or something and you are out of frame suddenly (we’re on telemedicine), I startle pretty intensely inside (a common HSP reflex) and I have to take a moment to calm myself down inside but I act like nothing is happening. And I haven’t wanted to say anything because I am embarrassed and ashamed that I have such a big reaction to something so small. It’s embarrassing to even talk about it. I feel like you must think I am such a baby (still crying). And I have no expectation of you being perfectly attuned to me all the time – that’s impossible – and even more impossible for you to attune to the minutia that I am constantly stimulated by (here I am caretaking her, fueled by, you guessed it, shame) but it made me really sad to think that in my own therapy I’m acting like nothing is happening when it is.”
And then she told me something I had never heard before—from anyone.
“Jenny, your sensitivity matters to me.”
I stopped crying and looked at her. “It does??” I thought to myself. How could something I hated so much about myself for so many years matter to her? She continued, “And if I’m impacting you in a way that doesn’t feel right, that matters to me too. It sounds like there are things I could do to help things feel better for you and I would very much like to do those things.”
I told her I didn’t believe her. Ok, what I actually said was, “No one has ever said my sensitivity matters to them and I’ll be honest, I’m having a hard time believing it. I want to believe it though.”
As we kept talking. I slowly believed her more and more. And, I noticed the urge to quit therapy was gone.
And then it got even better.
I told my wife about what happened, and she said, “So if you’re masking when you startle, when you express it outwardly it must be pretty intense, huh?” And I said, “YES.” Then she prompted, “And when you yelp while I’m driving and grab the door handle like you’re dying, you aren’t being dramatic or trying to backseat drive or criticize me. You are actually incredibly startled?” And I said, “YESSSSS.” And just like that, 12 years of an ongoing misunderstanding was resolved.
Masking is complex and not all bad or all good. But removing my mask with the ones who care about me the most made way for repair, connection, understanding, empathy, and healing. I’m so grateful for a second chance with my sensitivity and how it feels to navigate it while in relationship with others.