I’ve been working with a white, male therapist for the last year and as I approach the end of this therapeutic relationship, I’m stunned by the depth of loss I feel. I’m pretty open about living with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and the challenges I face with my mental health. Over the past five years, therapy has been an important component in supporting me to manage these ongoing challenges.

Prior to working with my current therapist, I’ve had three amazing therapists, all of whom are Black women. I’ve loved each of them and feel grateful to have fostered these deep and transformative connections. Each relationship has played a significant role in equipping me to better regulate the difficulties I experience with my mental health.

Each course of therapy ended for different reasons; one therapist took a career break, another went on maternity leave, and the third was put on pause because I could no longer afford it. I grieved each ending in my own way, however in each case my embodied experience of loss presented as measured and proportionate.