Fear of Abandonment is not Something to Shame.
I wish I didn’t miss you, but I do.
I can’t help but think about you.
I wish I could erase you from my memory so I stop crying myself to sleep, but I can’t.
You meant the world to me and left in a confusing way.
I don’t understand what happened, and I likely never will.
I will, though, always love you like a mother.
It’s all I really ever wanted.
You acted motherly toward me, even up until the last time I saw you—you held my hand and said we had a special heart connection.
Maybe this is why you left.
Maybe therapists aren’t supposed to have these feelings toward a client.
I will never know, but that special heart connection meant the world to me.
I wish I could say it’s easy to smile, but the way you ended things with me stung.
It still stings.
I never thought I’d be heartbroken from therapy, but I am.
It’s been years now since I’ve seen you, and I still hurt.
I still cry myself to sleep.
I still wonder what I could have done differently—what I did wrong.
All I ever wanted was to be loved.
You showed me this and then left suddenly.
I don’t know why my attachment to you was pathologized.
I don’t know why when you said I had CPTSD, I was treated like someone with trauma—loved, adored, encouraged—and when you said I had BPD, I had this all stripped from me.
I don’t understand why I was given this label or why our work must be done for me to learn something.
I didn’t need to be abandoned to learn that I struggle with abandonment.
As the child of a drug addict and alcoholic, I don’t agree with you that my fear of abandonment is in my mind.
Rather, it’s in my body. I feel it from my head to my toes when someone I love like a mother leaves.
What is wrong with loving this hard though?
What is best when someone has both?
I may never know why I was abandoned by you, my therapist.
I may never know why this is such a normal experience of those given the label of BPD.
All I know is that this hurts deeply.
All I know is that I loved you, and I still do.