Thinking Beats Sinking

In the immortal words of Ben Gibbard, it’s been a basement of a year.

Kellie and I had such grand plans for 2026. We’d been envisioning what it was going to be like when we could finally go into private practice together since at least 2012. My therapist told me 2026 was going to be our year, and we believed her (but it’s really not her fault that it wasn’t). Working together was kind of a dream. It’s a hard time for private practice therapists these days, since the current administration’s policies have destroyed the economy (and so many people view therapy as a luxury expense). But the real shock for Kellie was how many clients wanted to work with her in private practice. We had been prepared for things to be extremely slow for six months or so, but that never happened. She had far more clients than we ever planned on, and that never ceased to amaze her. I mean, I always knew what a fantastic clinician she was. But imposter syndrome is a hard nut to crack, and the validation of client after client choosing Kellie as a therapist was an ever-present reminder that other people valued her insights and skills as well. I’m grateful that she got that experience, even for a few months.

When you work in a counseling agency as we both have, you don’t have a lot of control over the type of referral you take—someone sends you five more folks to work with and that’s just how it goes. But private practice gives you the space to be much more selective and targeted in the type of client you think you’ll most click with. Kellie felt, for the first time in her professional life, that her entire caseload of clients were all perfectly suited to her, from a needs perspective and a personality perspective. These clients were her ideal clients, and I’m so glad that she got to end her career with this group of folks. They’re struggling, and there’s very little I can do to make this process easier for them. That’s a hard thing for me to face.

I started off making notifications to them myself, but those interactions did not go well. I would explain how sorry I was to have to tell them this news, then told them she was gone, and then would break down myself, and then every one of them would immediately say that their own grief was unimportant and that what really matters is that I’m okay. And then the next thing would be them offering to bring me food or offering to care for me in all kinds of other ways. Those calls were some of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and there’s no way I could have continued to make them. I was able to research and speak with an attorney and eventually write up a contract and BAA so that I could hire a friend and fellow therapist to have the vast majority of those conversations with her clients.

If you’re one of Kellie’s clients and you’re reading this (because it’s a small world and small community), I want you to know that the reason we haven’t spoken is not because I don’t care about you. The opposite is true—we haven’t spoken because I care about you too much, and that’s not the foundation for a good therapeutic relationship. It would not be healthy for me to hold on to you as a symbolic representation of Kellie, and it would not be healthy for you to care for me for the same reason. I’m sending out referrals to everyone in a couple of weeks, but know that I would work with every single one of you if it would help either of us. I just doubt that that’s the case. I know what she meant to you, and you need to know what you meant to her. And that’s going to have to be enough. I’m sorry.

And that brings us to the fact that it’s suuuuuper hard for me to stop taking care of other people right now, even in the midst of a time when everyone keeps telling me I’m supposed to prioritize myself. It’s a real learning experience, and it really sucks.

Today has been a day of deep introspection. I’ve made some progress in all kinds of areas, and I’ve also had a lot of time to just sit and think (though that’s not been a bad thing, not at all).

Wait for the year to drown

Spring forward, fall back down

I’m trying not to wonder where you are

All this time

Lingers, undefined

Someone choose

Who’s left and who’s leaving

Memory will rust and erode into lists

Of all that you gave me

A blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest

The best parts of lonely

—The Weakerthans

I woke up early-ish, at 7 something. Coco was not well-behaved enough to sleep with me last night, which is okay. It’s a work in progress. Ivy has been having some seasonal allergy issues, so I called the vet to get her prescription refilled so we can take care of that. We also did a midnight bath last night, and that seems to have helped a little bit at least. I got around five hours of sleep, which is pretty average for me these days.

The very hardest thing (I know I keep saying multiple things are the hardest thing, so maybe life is all just a collection of the hardest things) is filling my time. I don’t have anyone else to agree with on a TV show or a snack or bedtime or playing something, so it’s just an endless stream of decisions about how to spend a few more minutes of my day. I’m not at all used to that dynamic, and it’s really difficult. Hence the midnight dog bath. We had to figure out the best way to dry her, since Kellie’s job is operating the hair dryer.

This morning, I also made myself breakfast. It’s the first time I’ve cooked anything since before Kellie died, and I’m absurdly proud of myself for coming up with something I wanted to eat and actually making it happen. Baby steps.

Kellie was always deeply concerned by my dried-out feet, and she was the one who made sure that I was taking care of myself medically. I haven’t ever scheduled myself a dentist appointment, for instance. So I’m also very proud of myself that I applied medicated balm to my worst heel this morning. Again, baby steps (since it’s hard to walk regular steps if you don’t take care of your feet). Here’s proof. Coco deeply enjoyed licking it off my foot, immediately, but I’m sure she didn’t get all of it.

I’ve been catching up on work emails, delegating tasks that I don’t have the energy to do myself, and thanking every single one of you who’s doing something to try and ease this path I’m on. I don’t know what the future looks like, it’s way too far off to tell. But I know I cannot survive without the grace and kindness of all of you. So thanks for not leaving me to my aloneness and grief.

I appreciate the continued prayers, good wishes, and love.

XOXO,

Matt