There’s a term in therapy called transference – when feelings meant for others get projected onto the therapist.

I started seeing my therapist, Harry, over a year ago, mainly to process a difficult on-and-off-again relationship. Three months in, I noticed something shift. I found myself curious about him – how he thought, where his calm came from, what his life looked like outside the room. I looked forward to sessions more than I expected, and eventually, realised: this wasn’t about Harry. It was transference, because I barely knew the guy.

Harry has always been gentle, non-judgemental. As a behaviouralist, he focused on the here and now rather than digging into my past. Although I sometimes wondered if he truly saw me, and hoped he would probe more. Perhaps it was simply his way of holding the line.

Therapy relies on safety. And when the room no longer feels safe enough to be vulnerable, something has to be named, or paused. A few days ago, a friend said something simple that landed hard: if you leave therapy more confused than when you walked in, it’s worth paying attention. My feelings were getting int the way of sharing. And so I decided to stop.

“I hate goodbyes,” I told him, my voice cracking. “I have so much more to say.”

“I hate goodbyes,” I told him, my voice breaking. “I have so much to say.”

I had shared some of my deepest, darkest thoughts. We felt close to something meaningful, maybe even transformative. But my feelings had begun to bend the dynamic.

He glanced at the clock. “Just mindful of the time,” he said with familiar half-smile. It stung, And yet, it reminded me why boundaries exist. His restraint (intentional or not) was part of what kept the relationship safe.

Here’s what I’m taking with me:

• Expectations matter. Clear boundaries protect both people from over-attachment and quiet resentment.
• Patterns repeat. The therapy room mirrors my life. When intimacy deepens, I panic, and sometimes pull away from what could become good.
• Agency matters. Not everything is failure or self-blame. Some relationships (therapeutic or romantic) simply end. I made a choice with the awareness I had.

And now, I move forward. Wiser. More honest. Still learning.