Closing the Loop

Some messages aren’t sent to get anything back — just to honour the part someone played in your becoming.

I messaged my old therapist the other day. Just a simple thank you. Nothing dramatic. No backstory. Just… a moment of clarity, and the need to name something I hadn’t said before.

Because the truth is, he helped me more than I realised at the time.
He helped me stay steady when I wanted to cut ties with my mother — not by talking me out of it, but by slowing me down.
By reminding me not to throw the baby out with the bathwater.
Not because the “baby” was her — but because I was.

At the time, I didn’t quite understand what he meant.
But now I think I do.

He wasn’t protecting her.
He was giving me the space to step into my power — slowly, carefully, with dignity.
He saw that the dynamic had shifted in my favour, even if I couldn’t see it yet.
And he trusted that I’d know what to do when the moment came.

I think he knew this would happen.
That she would make one last move.
That I wouldn’t bite.
That I’d walk away free — not bitter.
And that when I did, I might one day write to say: thank you.

And so I did.

I wasn’t looking for anything.
Just wanted to close the loop. To honour the space we shared. To acknowledge the part he played in helping me become who I am now.

He replied:

“I feel very privileged to have played some part in your growth. Good luck with everything.”

That was it. And that was enough.

Because sometimes closure doesn’t come with fireworks.
Sometimes it’s just a quiet message sent from a place of peace.

And when you no longer need a reply — that’s when you know you’ve truly moved on.