The Letter I Never Sent To My Psychoanalyst

Sonnige Stube by Vilhelm Hammershoi, 1901

The years have passed since we last met in your office, bathed in half-light...

Dear Mr. Prof. M.,

The years have passed since we last met in your office, bathed in half-light. Since our last session, when I brought you back the National Geographic—with a tribe on the cover, dressed in a variety of beautiful colors—which I had taken from your waiting room a few years earlier… Since that final day, when we said goodbye as we did at the end of each session, without shaking hands.

Since then, I have changed homes a few times, I met my wife, and together we have traveled the world, discovered and rediscovered landscapes and cities.
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I did not stand still, I gradually grew within the corporate world, and completed an eighteen-month on-the-job development program, delving into executive coaching and organizational consulting through psychodynamic lenses. The experience allowed me to revisit concepts that resonated deeply during my time on the couch.

Recently, I launched my consultancy practice as an organizational psychologist and executive coach. It felt like flying from the nest—sometimes soaring, sometimes stumbling. I had dreamed of independence for a long time.

In the future, I may be asked for "proof" by professional associations that I have undergone and completed an analysis. This would be the first time in my career that my work with you could also be seen as a formal "asset" in the professional world. This is the reason  why I am writing to you today. Would you be willing to send me a letter confirming that I underwent psychoanalysis with you, three times a week, for over eight years, if my memory serves me right?

The work we did together enabled me to transform disparate feelings of anxiety into a sense of coherence and strength. It has stood the test of time. The lessons learned through our journey together have now become a source of resilience in my daily life, continuing to help me navigate the complexities of my inner and outer world.

I thank you for your time and consideration.

Yours sincerely,

Frédéric

PS: This is the letter I wrote and never sent to my psychoanalyst. As I was ready to send it, I learned that he had passed away. It was the first time I had cried in years. I was sad, yet I was not feeling lonely. The melancholy feelings that arose were more reminders of connection than burdens. I could recognize with profound gratitude that the sadness I felt reflected the deep impact of our relationship. And perhaps also a sign of some emotional development and, hopefully, a greater capacity for love.
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