After Closing My Psychotherapy Practice, I’m Considering My New Freedom

Crow’s Feet Writing Prompt #49 Freedom

Talking about freedom attracts me at this moment because only 26 days ago, I ended my 28-year career as a psychotherapist. At this point, the full impact of the decision hasn’t hit me. I have a little more time than I usually do, but all kinds of odd things have filled it anyway. I thought I’d ponder the new freedom I am just beginning to realize I have.

I began thinking about retiring from my job of doing therapy online from my home, where I have been since 2020, about a year ago. There were a few things that made me realize it was time to stop. I realized that I wasn’t very interested in learning more about the field. I found myself being casual about following through on things I’d agreed to do, not attending to paperwork as carefully as I once did, and becoming impatient listening to people talk. This was not the kind of professional I used to be and not the way I wanted to be. I wanted to feel good about my work, and my clients deserved better.

I tried to regenerate my enthusiasm with continuing education about new topics in the field, but it just didn’t work. There were other things — poetry and writing and playing piano — that had my attention. I didn’t need a pep talk to feel excited about them. I decided it was time to stop doing therapy. (With a caveat that I will maintain my license and insurance for a few years to make sure I truly want to be done.) The process went smoothly; I gradually wound down my caseload and said goodbye to everyone. Though it was sad, and the change was difficult, overall, most people were happy for me. I was 74; it was a respectable time to stop working.

What am I noticing now that I am free of that job? There are several things.

Freedom to relax

It is taking me a while to get this. I still bustle about with a scheduler, journals, routines, and plans as if I were managing a business. Organization is one of my strong suits and I despair when there is nothing to apply it to. Since I now have time to take care of myself, I’ve begun experimenting with things like routines for meals, housework, and exercise — things that should help with relaxing.

I am also working some regular artist dates into my schedule, as well as a writing group and poetry groups. I can already see my schedule becoming overrun with things I’d like to do. As with anything, I will have to find a balance between too much and too little. I will let you know when I finally get that feeling — like I felt at the beginning of the pandemic when I was condemned to my home for months — that I am — sigh — relaxed.

Freedom to make a new plan for what I’d like to do next. Or ditch all the plans and wing it.

I have a long list of goals for the year. If I were really free, I wouldn’t have to do them. I could tear them out of my journal or just ditch the journal along with my daily routines like yoga, free writing, piano, etc. Would I be more free then?

It doesn’t sound like a good idea because I have long known that these routines keep me in a good mood and moving forward. I do experiment with them some days just to check. But there’s no one to say I must write another poetry book this year or finish this Beethoven sonata. I am free to make new rules if I want. That is an interesting realization that pulls the rug out from under my feet. Maybe that's a good thing? Or a disaster?

Freedom to be me

As a Licensed Professional Social Worker, I had some clear ethical rules around boundaries. I had to keep my personal and professional life separate. I was obliged to maintain a professional online profile. I had to keep my home address and phone number, the names of my family, secret. I had to take care not to talk about my clients outside of the work setting, or reveal any information about them that could compromise their anonymity. If I met someone on the street or in the grocery, I had to let them make any contact, not to reveal our relationship. There were many things like that which involved secrecy or at least careful assessment. All these things to consider before talking to someone are burdensome. They make me less likely to engage in relaxed, off-the-cuff conversations, more careful, and less spontaneous. This is hard on all of us who do this work, though you do become accustomed to it.

My struggle with the boundaries of the Social Work profession began a few years ago. I gradually began to want to share my experiences and my real self with the world and give up some of the secret-keeping. In 2019 I wrote a very honest memoir. I began writing poetry and sharing some things about my history, my family, and my own development as a person. I had some fleeting concerns about clients learning about my background but as I felt retirement was around the next corner, I would take a few chances. It would be unlikely that anyone would read my memoir or poetry and even less likely that some clinical relationship would be harmed by it. So I took down that wall.

At the same time, I noticed a loosening of my boundaries during my work and a willingness to share more of myself more frequently than I usually did. Again, this is not bad in itself, as some personal revealing is okay as long as it is in the client’s interest and not my own. But I was paying attention to this change in my style. As I worked at writing more honestly, I felt the tug between honesty and privacy within me. I think this is another factor affecting my decision to stop working as a therapist.

Now I am free to tell you all about myself. Of course, there are pitfalls to that for everyone and I’m not going to go overboard in this direction. In fact, deciding how much or little to share with my readers is an ongoing process, as it is for most writers, I’m sure. But I think I am more free in this area, now.

Some general freedoms

I have time to go to doctor appointments, both mine and my husband’s. (Wheeeeeee)

I have time to do fun things: start a writing group at the library, join a knitting group, make new friends, and plan activities with them.

I have long stretches of time to write.

I have time to make a weekly routine and fit less pleasant chores into it so that they get done but don’t take all my time.

I can cook a little more, keep a sourdough starter going, and try new recipes.

I could consider other kinds of work I’d like to do, register for classes, start a new business, or volunteer.

I could be available to help other people without feeling over-taxed because of my work.

I probably can’t do all of these things at once, but they are all possibilities waiting for me to choose.

Follow me at jeanfeldeisen.com

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