I had my last meeting with my therapist of the last six years.
It turns out, I actually had my last meeting with her a couple months ago. I have a billing issue that I procrastinated on addressing, and in the meantime she must have gotten another job somewhere because she's leaving the practice through which I saw her. By the time I set up a payment plan, and could technically schedule appointments again, it was just a few days before her last day. It was also a weekend. She couldn't fit me in, obviously.
However, she did give me a call, at about six tonight, so presumably the last thing she did before leaving. On today, her last day. She checked in, asked how I was doing, and I got to say thank you, and goodbye. I cried a little bit after, and I'm crying a little bit right now.
I know very little about her, in terms of her life, and I'm not going to list her name or anything, but she has been, easily, one of the most important people in my life.
Therapy is hard, and mental illness is hard, and I am immensely, unendingly grateful for the fact that people dedicate their lives to helping people like me cope, recover, and grow.