A Break Up Letter To My Therapist: It’s Not You, It’s Me. I’m Better!

Dear Barbara,

I am sorry to drop this on you, but I am pleased to announce that I am better and will no longer need to do therapy! I am definitely not ending this because you charge $500 an hour and point out all of my easily adjustable flaws. I am only ending this because I am cured now. I am incredibly well-adjusted and mentally as healthy as it gets. I AM health, I am glowing, I meditated for 9 seconds today, SOBER.

I know we’ve discussed how you tell me stuff I don’t want to hear but for some reason think I need to, but that is not why I am ending our relationship. This has nothing to do with that. It is also definitely not due to the fact that you’ve claimed I may be the reason for all my failed romantic relationships. Like what? Honestly the old me would be upset but the new me knows it’s because I am hideously and nauseatingly unlikable and I deserve nothing, so instead I will say, thank YOU!

You are just such a great therapist. I just need to move on. I don’t see this relationship going all the way, I don’t think we have a future together. It’s also totally, entirely just due to the fact that I am better and not because you keep telling me that I have flaws and that I have to do hard stuff that I don’t want to do to get better. I am just ending this because I am one hundred million percent better. I’m fixed, I am a new woman. THE CATERPILLAR HAS BECOME A BUTTERFLY AND THIS BUTTERFLY DOESN’T HIDE COCAINE IN HER BRA ANYMORE, SHE’S FREE.

I am so cured. See! You’re such a great therapist. I slept a solid 37 minutes last night and had a hearty breakfast of Gatorade, 3 almonds, 14 goldfish, 11 Slim Jim’s, and a half a birthday cake. I then went on a 12-minute walk along the water and only cried into my face mask twice. The panic attack didn’t even last an hour this time! Only 55 minutes. I didn’t scream at a baby in a stroller that its family will one day be broken into a million tiny, unfixable pieces. That would be crazy!

I am so much better! Father’s Day was fine, I didn’t throw up after calling my dad and definitely did not drink half a bottle of melted cheese after he didn’t take my call. There are no punch holes in the drywall above my bathtub. I am growing. I’m healing! My depression, anxiety, panic disorder, childhood trauma, disordered eating, and insomnia, all better!!! It’s because you’re so good at being a therapist!!!

No, I am honestly thriving in a pandemic/political revolution/recession. I cut my old jeans and made a denim vest. I shaved half my head, cut bangs, and dyed them purple. They look CHIC. I’M DOING GREAT. I realized I may, actually probably will, actually definitely it’s guaranteed absolutely 100% will die alone, but that’s OK, I’ve learned from working together that I should accept myself for the pathetic, lonely, gross, unlovable, socially inept, hairy, pasty loser that I am! See! I am gaining self-esteem! I am better. Totally better. I just am ready for a change. A relationship shouldn’t be this difficult. We’re always working on me but never on you. It just feels like I do all the work and I don’t understand why you won’t let me adopt a flamingo named Steven, it would live in the living room, WE HAVE PLENTY OF ROOM FOR IT WE HAVE A SOHO LOFT, YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME, YOUR MOTHER IS A BITCH.

OMG, your reverse psychology IS working, I’m still not over my breakup and it’s interfering with all my other relationships, and I do buy things to fill the void inside me, like exotic birds and silk disco pants!!! OMG YOU’RE RIGHT!!!!! BARBARA PLEASE TAKE ME BACK OMG PLEASE IGNORE THIS LETTER, I PROPOSED TO A SHOPPING CART AT WALGREENS TODAY, CAN WE WORK SOMETHING OUT???

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