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I have often felt a great shame about attaching myself so much to people who get paid to talk to me. After all, I was your job, but to me you were one of the only people I met in everyday life.

Photo: by Andy Li on Unsplash

This is some of what comes out in a new guest post on The writer is anonymous and we do not know the person's identity. Here you read the whole post:

"I will not love her" was the first thing I said to myself as I sat in that chair in her office for the first time.

The longing for the first psychologist I had a year earlier was still there, maybe not as intense all the time but at times so strong that I cried myself to sleep. She was the first I opened up to, the first to try to understand, and the first to really see me for who I am. 

At one point she was the only one I had a conversation with during a week, with the exceptions of saying "yes, thank you" when being asked if a needed a plastic bag at the super market.

She was my psychologist and I knew that, but for me she became so important, she kept me alive and I honestly do not know if I would have been here today if it had not been for her.

Then she disappeared, it was not unexpected but still it happened so abruptly.

I was referred on and met many helpers on my way, both at admissions to hospitals and at outpatient clinics. Many pleasant conversations and many not quite as pleasant meetings.

Then I came into your office and I immediately noticed that you wanted to help me. It was not just your words that confirmed it, but also your gaze and attitude. You were not in a hurry, you were "in" the conversation and tried very hard to understand even the incomprehensible.

You stood by my side, talked my case and were there on both the good and bad days.

You even held on to me when you had to change jobs so I got to join in, at your new work place.

I stuck to the conversations with you because, like the first psychologist, you were also sometimes the only one I met in everyday life.

When the flashbacks became too intense and the suicidal thoughts fell on me, we talked about it, and we managed to lay it all to rest for a while. Sometimes you got desperate and seemed annoyed: You did not know what to do to help me. But then we got back on track.

You were my anchor, my life jacket and my safe haven, without you it felt like I was going to drown.

I promised myself never to fall in love with a helper again, but it did not work out.

I have often felt a great shame about associating myself so much with people who get paid to talk to me. After all, I was your job, but to me you were one of the only people I met in everyday life. One of the few who understood why everything in my life was the way it was.

You saw me and not only the disease.

I knew we were not going to know each other forever, that one day you would disappear without me having any power to hold you back, and no matter how prepared I was, that day came like a slap in the face, yet again.

The grief caught up with me again, because even though I might have become a little too dependent on your help, it was not just about that. I had connected deeply with you as a human being, and I have often thought that I wish we met somewhere else so we could be friends.

The weeks before you had to quit were long but at the same time they went by way too fast.

I cried myself to sleep and woke up with a lump in my stomach every single day. I counted down the days at the same time as I wanted to stop time.

The day came and we said goodbye for the last time, it sounds brutal because you are not dead, but to me you are not there anymore and I felt my whole world collapsed because you were no longer part of it.

The shame is great and it is difficult to put into words.

Other people grieve for a breakup or a death that has occurred in the family. I'm in grief because my psychologist has quit and there's nothing I can talk to anyone about.

It is a grief that for many will be difficult to understand.

I have thought many thoughts about why I became so fond of my helpers. Falling in love with people you have a relationship with in everyday life is not abnormal, but I think I would have been easier to let go if I had a closer relationship with my family or had friends who were close to me.

I do not have that - for the helpers is everything I had in my everyday life.

- Written by anonymous

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