Friday, I took the day off of work so that I could attend to two appointments: my second laser appointment, and my latest appointment with Tom, the depression therapist I had started seeing after the suicide attempt.
Honestly, I was thinking of telling Tom that we were about done. In our time together I have gotten some good things from my sessions with Tom, but they have always been Him sessions. I talk to Tom as a man divorcing from his wife and a father parenting his children; we don’t talk about being transgender, at all. He gives me advice from his own experience as a man and a husband and a father, and I tell him how I feel frustrated as a failed husband and a father. In a lot of ways, going to Tom has been helping me resolve His issues for good before I leave Him behind entirely.
However, I am now over my ex, my depression is under control, and my transition is about to kick in big time. Every session with him has felt less and less useful, to the point where I don’t really need to see him anymore. Unless he was willing to make the shift to gender therapy, which I suspect he wouldn’t be very good at. I suspected it would be an uncomfortable conversation — I’ve never “broken up” with a therapist before — but it had to be done.
Or rather, it didn’t. Because when I arrived at the office it turns out he wasn’t there. Not as in, “Tom took the day off,” but as in “Tom is no longer with this office.” Excuse me? When did this happen. “About two weeks ago. We sent letters out to all his patients.” Oh, I must have overlooked it. Where is he now? “We don’t have that information. Would you like us to set you up with another therapist? I can see if we have something open today.” No, that’s fine, thank you.
Well, that was easy.
So, Tom, wherever you are, thanks for the conversations. Thanks for helping me get over some of His lingering issues so that I could put Him fully in the past.