So, My Therapist Dumped Me
And I'm Still Processing
AN ACTUAL CONVERSATION I HAD LAST WEEK VIA ZOOM CALL WITH MY THERAPIST OF 7 YEARS ABOUT PARTING WAYS AND MY PROGRESS SO FAR { OR RATHER LACK THEREOF }. I HAD THE CALL SEATED WITH MY LAPTOP OPEN AT MY FAVOURITE CORNER OF MY FAVOURITE BAKERY — FARINE.
Therapist: Hey *Nana Kwame... how’s it going? [IN HER SOFT-SPOKEN WELSH SOUTH AFRICAN ACCENT]
Me: I've seen better days, but nothing to complain about.
Therapist: That’s okay. You’re allowed to feel that way. Anything triggering that feeling now in particular besides… the obvious? [MAKES THE CUTEST PLAYFUL EYE-ROLL]
Me: Ummmm… nothing in particular.
[THAT WAS A BLATANT LIE. I HAD JUST BEEN STOOD UP BY A DUTCH DATE A COUPLE OF HOURS EARLIER IN THE VERY CAFÉ I WAS DIALING IN FROM.]
Therapist: That’s alright. Well…how’s the preparation going for the private dinners you’ll be hosting with your best friend…I love the name.
Me: That’s going terribly well actually. Over 4O people have signed up thus far.
Therapist: That’s great news! Okay so it's not all gloom and doom after all is……
Me: How are you doing? [I SINCERELY INTERJECT TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT.]
Therapist: Hahah… well, you know… in my third trimester now. Fighting for my life. [A NERVOUS CHUCKLE ESCAPES HER MOUTH.]
Me: Wow. Well, you look divine as always. Sounds like a healthy baby.
Therapist: Let’s hope! Anyway… how did your photo shoot go with The Sunday Times in Pankow? You were basically in Berlin, right?
Me: It was relatively chill. More chill than I expected, actually.
Therapist: Really? What did you expect? [A SMALL DOG BEGINS BARKING IN THE BACKGROUND.]
Me: Well… I don’t know. I guess with the strobe lights set up for the day and all the equipment, I expected to feel less desensitized to the camera than I was. But I was fairly calm.
Therapist: Maybe it’s because you seem to thrive within chaos, and perhaps the busyness of that environment made you feel more at home. [DOG BARKING GETS SLIGHTLY LOUDER.]
Me: Maybe… by the way is everything okay? [BREAKING THE THIRD WALL TO INQUIRE ABOUT THE PUP.]
Therapist: Sorry about Nicodemus. He’s got the runs and we need to take him to the vet. [BRIEFLY LOOKS AWAY FROM THE SCREEN.] Nicodemus, shush!
Me: No worries at all. Hope he feels better. Um… so I was going to say there was something so poetic about the location of the property.
Therapist: [SQUINTING HER EYES] Poetic?
Me: Ummm… yeah, it was this gorgeous double-volume loft that was… overlooking a cemetery—which felt perfectly full circle for me. And the host, Zinzi, prepared her grandmother’s delicious pasta recipe.
Therapist: Well, that aligns with this monomaniacal fixation you have with death, doesn’t it? Did you visit the nearby cemetery? [HER TONE IMPLIED THAT SHE ALREADY KNEW THE ANSWER.]
Me: Yes. It reminded me of the time I have left with Emmanuel before his scheduled assisted death on the 30th of July. It was, strangely, the best environment to process his death.
Therapist: Sounds quite wholesome. Anyway, I’m thrilled to hear that you were nourished in body and hopefully in spirit. And Zinzi sounds like an effervescent name.
Me: She was incredible, and her son, Lovie, was such a pocket rocket. We had too much fun.
Therapist: Right… fun. [SAID IN A MONOTONE, INCONGRUENTLY SCRIBBLING IN HER NOTEBOOK.]
Me: I still can’t believe that was dinner number 46. It’s insane how far time travels.
Therapist: [GENTLY NODS] We’ve always said that life’s greatest joy and tragedy is the passing of time.
Me: This is indeed…..true.
Therapist: So, speaking of the passing of time…..I don’t want to keep you too long—we do have to enter into a critical conversation.
Me: Keep me too long? I’m confused… the call just started 15 minutes ago.
Therapist: Exactly. So the last time I mentioned…
Me: Wait, wait, wait… what’s going on? [ TENSION BUILDS IN MY CHEST ]