When you don't get to say goodbye.

       Based on a conversation from earlier today, I started thinking about the closet full of ghosts that all therapist's have. This ghost closet is conceptually similar to a skeleton closet, though not exactly. It's not really a skeleton closet in the sense that this is where all of our past bad deeds or moments of questionable judgment are kept. But the ghost closet is that space within us where we keep all of clients that we didn't get to say goodbye to, all of the clients for whom, for whatever reason, there wasn't a proper termination.

     My career so far has been short, (arguably it hasn't begun at all) but still I have several ghosts of client's that haunt me. I have moments where I remember these clients and remember that we never got to say goodbye and I feel this pang that makes my heart slightly fold in on itself. I don't have these moments so much that I am unable to be present or unable to connect with new clients and those around me, but I have them frequently enough to never really forget the clients the ghosts represent either. For me, these clients are in limbo; gone from my practice and from my physical world but nowhere near gone from my heart or mind. I find this discrepancy deafening. This phenomenon of the ghost closet often takes on physical form because we're art therapists and frequently left with the art work of our clients.

     As a student therapist I sometimes observe that I seem to feel things bigger than the professionals in my field. I just seem more sensitive, more likely to feel surprised, and more likely to feel in general. It's not that over time people learn to care less, they just gain experience with all of the potential outcomes of a therapeutic relationship with a client. Since I'm new at this, I don't have much experience, I'm only just becoming aware of what the different outcomes are. And every time one of them plays out it's usually the first time that's happened to me. Even in my inexperienced state, I know that clients coming and going without notice is par for the course. I know that this could always be your last session with a client. While I have internalized this, no amount of knowing that it could always be your last session prepares you for when you find out it actually was your last session.

     I feel like generally speaking I get really close to my clients. Yes, it's very boundaried and yes we're close in very specific kinds of ways but close is close. In order to fully connect with them I must be unequivocally connected to myself. This connection loop, that starts with me to myself and then extends to my client, makes you get close. We're basically in a trust loop. I trust me, I'm inviting you to trust me too, and to trust yourself while I trust you. These connections are powerful and raw, and when they suddenly end it's sort of tragic and maybe even traumatic. As the therapist in the loop I'm left with this feeling of un-finishedness, sadness, and grief. Yes, I can do my own work and settle my feelings as much as I can about the abrupt end, but there is some part of me that will always grieve these clients more than the ones that I got to properly terminate with. There's something about those clients that stays with me in this place that they can never move out of because our connection was still present, still live, when they left. Neither of us had time to properly tuck in our connecting parts and say our goodbyes.

  It's like holding hands with someone. When you're actively holding someone's hand your fingers are interlaced or your hands formed around theirs. When you let go your hand returns to a resting position. But what if one hand was suddenly just gone, if it suddenly disappeared? At first, the remaining hand would still be molded to the hand that disappeared. The remaining hand may search for the other hand, the newly exposed skin might feel a slight breeze. For me, this is what it feels like to not get to say goodbye. My "hand" is still in the position it was in when we were holding hands. And in some ways, it will always be that way. There's some part of me that will always be waiting for the other hand. There's some part of me that will always be wanting to plan letting go of each other instead of one hand just disappearing. Because I'll always be waiting, these clients don't live in the same place in my head or my heart as the clients that I planned to let go and planned to let go of me.

  So what do you do when you don't get to say goodbye? I cry. A lot. And I draw. And I find myself wanting to talk about it. I find myself wanting to tell my mentors and supervisors about my client and the work we did, about how it feels now that they're gone and about the hope that I have for them. I find myself wanting to sit in my thoughts of my client and be with them that way. I fantasize about expressing my anger to the person that represents the circumstances under which my client had to leave. I recite in my head all the things I would have said if I'd known it was our last session. And then I cry some more.

   I'm writing all this because I'm trying to figure out how to be okay with being vulnerable and authentic in relationships that are fairly unstable. I'm worried that if I can't learn to comfort myself and cope with the grief of unexpected termination then I won't make it as a therapist. I don't want to burn out because I never learned how to cope with not getting to say goodbye, because unexpected termination is a reality in the field we're in. So while I'm getting used to the reality that this is going to happen, I'm far from it not affecting me. It seems like the only thing I can do to keep myself balanced is to be true to all of these feelings when they occur. Acknowledge those painful, heart-folding moments and then spend some time remembering why it hurts. Don't expect to feel better and do learn how to hold that this wound may bleed for a while. I think I'll be more worried about myself  if I ever don't have a response to an unexpected termination than I am right now. Because if I don't care that someone's gone then something has gone awry. When I think about it like that I'm okay with continuing to work on this. My supervisor at school told me that if I'm feeling disappointed that the relationship is ending (or in this case has ended), then it was good work. There's rapport and connection there. So that's something to hold on to. It was good work. But I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get to package our work and review all of the gains. And I didn't get to convey that it was truly an honor to be with this client. And that's the part that stings.