Dear Karl,

First, I want to apologize for coming to your consulting room even after receiving the letter saying you were no longer practicing and, therefore, could no longer be my—or anyone else’s—analyst.

I realize that your consulting room is connected to your home and since you’ve stopped practicing it’s probably become part of your house now, making it off-limits to me. I was on autopilot. Every Friday night at seven p.m. for almost fourteen months. That’s a hard habit to break. And psyche kept saying, “Go. Karl needs you,” which was initially confusing because I’m the analysand and you are the analyst, so I’m supposed to need you and not the other way around. But you always told me to listen to psyche and that the goal of analysis was to individuate and know the Self well enough to align with it. Well, my psyche really wants a relationship with you. It keeps saying you need my help. Also, Darcy told me to keep going to analysis. And I just generally wanted to go, as well. I’ve really missed our weekly “analytic container,” our two hours. Friday nights.

It was hard to manage everything without our sessions, especially at first. Many people offered to find me a new you, but I kept telling everyone I’d wait for Karl. I have to admit, I didn’t initially think I’d be waiting so long. Please don’t feel bad. The last thing I want to do is guilt-trip you, especially given all we’ve been through, collectively and individually. I just want you to understand. And you always say that I should tell you everything and never hold back.

I, too, haven’t been able to return to work since the tragedy. I tried a few times, but never made it out of my car. I just sat there in the faculty parking lot watching the students streaming into the building. Some would look over at me with concerned expressions and I couldn’t tell whether I wanted them to help me or if I wanted to be invisible. It was the strangest sensation. Do you ever feel that way? I’d grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles would turn white.