I’ve had so many therapists
their names blur together—
new offices, new chairs,
new promises that this time
someone would stay.
They tell me to open up,
so I do.
I unpack the heavy stuff,
lay it out carefully,
like trust isn’t fragile.
And then—
they move,
they switch jobs,
they say it’s “nothing personal”
like that makes it hurt less.
I’m always right at the hard part
when they leave.
Right when the words start to come easier.
Right when I stop flinching
at my own feelings.
They say I’m resilient.
That I’ll be okay.
But it feels cruel
to keep teaching me how to attach
just to practice letting go again.
I’m tired of starting over,
of retelling my story
like it’s a script I never get to finish.
Tired of needing help
and watching it walk out the door.
I don’t need someone to fix me.
I just need someone
who doesn’t disappear
the moment things get real.
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 12:02 PM UTC
I’ve had so many therapists
their names blur together—
new offices, new chairs,
new promises that this time
someone would stay.
They tell me to open up,
so I do.
I unpack the heavy stuff,
lay it out carefully,
like trust isn’t fragile.
And then—
they move,
they switch jobs,
they say it’s “nothing personal”
like that makes it hurt less.
I’m always right at the hard part
when they leave.
Right when the words start to come easier.
Right when I stop flinching
at my own feelings.
They say I’m resilient.
That I’ll be okay.
But it feels cruel
to keep teaching me how to attach
just to practice letting go again.
I’m tired of starting over,
of retelling my story
like it’s a script I never get to finish.
Tired of needing help
and watching it walk out the door.
I don’t need someone to fix me.
I just need someone
who doesn’t disappear
the moment things get real.
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