Some Thoughts About Termination

Recently, my patient, Mike, ran into his old therapist at a museum. Mike related: “It was great seeing Dr. O—warm fuzzies, you know. I told him that I think about him a lot, sometimes with unsettled feelings, and understand our work together in many new ways. Then he says to me, ‘If you have unfinished business to discuss, make an appointment and come see me’. I wanted to punch him—the response was so off-putting.” I asked Mike what seemed wrong with his old therapist's response. Mike answered, “Over time and from my work with you, I understand so much better his [the old therapist's] part in our work. I understand things that he and I never explored, things that I doubt he's thought of or owned. I have something to offer him, but I don't want to go back to the old power configuration. And I certainly don't want to pay him to take my gift.”

Mike's feelings jibe with my own about the aftermath of my analysis. About 2 years after terminating with my much-loved and respected analyst, I wrote her a note in which I shared some complicated thoughts about our analysis. The period of mourning and reflection following the end of our work brought me new insights not only about myself, but also about her and us together. Thus, my letter contained some musings about our relationship

that I had not quite formulated while still seeing her. Foolishly, as it turned out, I thought these musings would interest her. Here is my analyst's reply: “I'd like to view your note as a momentary reaction, for whatever reason, of a former analysand and current colleague. If it's more than that, I invite you to come and talk to me about it.” My former analyst seemed neither interested in nor amused by my note; and, like Mike, I wanted to do some punching—and for many of the same reasons as Mike. My analyst's stiff and formal response seemed strange to me, as it dramatically contrasted with the easy and intimate flowing of our late analytic interactions.

Mike's and my experiences bring me to the