““I thought this was more,” I whispered low, 
Hoping he’d stay, hoping he’d show. 
But his response, like a dagger, cut deep, 
“No one stays, my dear, not in this world .”

With those words, reality crashed in, 
My heart shattered, my hopes pinned. 
For what we shared was just a game, 
A situationship, without a name.”

Poestoryporium, ‘Whispers of Love’

I don’t know if it’s fully sunk in that my psychologist, my confident, has left me. Whenever something happens in my life- good or bad- I automatically turn to her. I go to write her an email, or I store it in a little bottle in my mind for our next session, only to remember that she is gone. It really does feel like a nightmare I keep expecting to wake up from. I never thought she would leave me and I’d have to go through this hell all over again. I thought she was different. I trusted her. Now she has left me with what I can only liken to phantom limb syndrome.

During the day I am up. I seem to be doing ok on the outside. As I wrote earlier this evening I dressed up in my Native American headdress and went for a walk today. I have been doing better. But the night is a whole different ball game. The grief is like a monster under my bed, waiting to attack. The ghost of my psychologist haunts me. She is an adept hunter, a cat stalking its prey, an irritating perfume that cannot be washed out. I dream of her and my sleep is fucked up. My mind feels like a tangled ball of string, like it is trying to make sense of what’s happening but can’t.

I have found some comfort in poetry, and recently wrote a poem myself called “The White Rabbit”. My psychologist changed her profile picture on Facebook to a rabbit, which is what inspired the poem. My friend informed me that the white rabbit is associated with mind control programming. There is a bit about that on Instagram here. I don’t know if my psychologist knew about this symbolism or not, but as I wrote in another post I believe her behaviour was calculated and malicious like these mind control programs. She drew me in, then callously spat me out once she had me hooked. She knew exactly the impact it would have on me, but she didn’t care. I am tossed around and around in a hurricane of feelings: sadness, longing, hatred, betrayal, horror, emptiness, loneliness, shock, despair, terror, guilt, regret, confusion.

Poestoryporium has written some amazing poetry which they have posted on their blog. Their poems have been of comfort to me during the wee hours of the morning. The excerpt I began this post with is from the poem “Whispers of Love- Poem on Situationship”. The poet posted this description of the poem:

“The poem emerged from a place of raw emotion, a reflection of the tangled web of feelings that accompany giving too much of myself to someone who may not care enough in return. It’s a painful realization, to pour my heart and soul into a connection, only to watch it wither away before my eyes. It’s like trying to hold onto sand slipping through my fingers – futile, heartbreaking, and utterly hopeless.”