Therapeutic relationships are not your everyday story

Time to write it out, I think.
My mind is thinking on something my lovely neighbor friend said. She was talking about going through a hard time and how she was addicted to her story. Naturally I think she is suggesting that I might be addicted to my story....
and I am trying to understand this idea.
Where does it start, where does it end and am I addicted or am I simply trying to figure out how to write the chapters still? How to write the ending to this story?
Should I right/write an ending to this story?
And how addicted am I?
I will own that I am addicted to something in my story. But I am not totally sure what. I have been trying not to think about it and redirect my thinking to other things. I have plenty to think about and do, and I do think about and do plenty of other things. Yet somehow I am still stuck in this story. This Perri Cheri character still holds a place in my story, the tragic hero that I just can't quite place or has been placed and I can't quite write out of my story. I don't know how to let him stay in my heart without it breaking it and I can't quite let him go completely because I like the me he brought out and was bringing out. Yet the me he brought out is the me that was turned away and rejected. The me that was not worth helping. The me that was not heard or noticed when it so desperately needed to be. Even that me was invisible and unloveable... So I need to let him go I suppose but at the same time... sigh.
...I am not so sure it is my story I am addicted to... I wonder if I am addicted to the sensation I felt in those moments. I wonder if I am addicted to the beautiful tragedy, the comedy of errors. And I also wonder if I am not addicted at all but rather I was left in a cliffhanger of unresolved reality.
I don't know. My mind can take this so many ways and it does. So I am allowing myself a bit of space to I ponder this idea of being addicted to ones story and I wonder what to do about it.
"Just let it go"
I have and I try and I do and I don't and I can and I can't and I am but I am not and time will heal all wounds while absence makes the heart grow fonder....
and...
sigh...
the traps
In reality, I need reality, or I at least know that reality would help. To be able to put into context the reality of what happened with the person with whom it happened. It is the ideal that so few people ever actually get because we are so very human and so very flawed, proud, selfish and scared.
"Be the change you wish to see in the world"
How?
How can I be that change when I am not allowed?
I think the mental health industry has a similar problem to our education systems: We challenge kids and claim we want kids to be creative problem solvers and utilize higher level thinking skills but when they do they are punished for various reasons:

• because it posses a threat to "classroom management"
• because it is not exactly the way it was taught so it must be the wrong answer
• because the teacher does not understand the different way of saying, doing, or seeing something
• because it does not match the test exactly
• because teachers are worried that other kids might follow suit and get lost 
• because we like consistency and order, symmetry and matching and the creative approach or rendition may threaten that
• We like things to me homogenized and homogeneous- it feels safer
• If every kid were doing things their own way it would take the teacher ages to understand and grade
• The kid may be going off on a tangent that keeps them from acquiring the skill that we are required to teach them.

There are many reasons, some reasonable and legitimate, others not so much. It is a tricky balance and maybe an ideal that is impossible to achieve in our current education systems but very often kids are punished, discouraged and/or discredited for creative problem solving. They are taught to conform to the rules of the system and yet we somehow expect them to exceed and excel once they are out in "the real world" that is nothing like the system of worksheets and conformity they were nurtured in.
The mental health industry claims to want to help people be able to manage their "mental illness" and yet when they do they are not listened to, not heard, discredited, discouraged and even punished for it. They are overlooked instead of utilized.
I have learned so very much and when I look back I know I have come so very far because I have worked to manage my mood instabilities and my intensities since I was a teen and yet I am still stigmatized and not heard.
I know my symptoms, I know a lot about what helps and what I need. I know I can do many things I am not allowed to do because I don't fit inside the boxes of others.
My lovely fellow piñata person friend pointed out that they don't want to listen because then it destroys their illusions... Maybe so.
Their illusions of control and sanity that are so very ridiculous and we know because we have been broken open and we know how easy it is to be broken open. But we also know the beauty that can come along with it and how that illusion of control and sanity is making themselves and so many people behave in such unethically insane ways.
...addicted to my story
Maybe so
but also, I think that being addicted to my story keeps me alive, because in this story, with the transference that happened and the mania and the "I will never have anything to do with you" and the "let it burn out" -"it" being me- and the "we need to get you stabilized..." so maybe you should go somewhere else and here are some suggestions," mere suggestions, not referrals and not with the people they have there that have the credentials and know how "oh those two didn't work, check with your insurance because we don't want to work with you anymore" my story ends in sacrificing me for him...
I don't like that ending. I don't want that ending. I think that ending needs to be rewritten, and re-righted. It's too deep and too profound... And every time I tried to go somewhere else I had to relive the story, feed the addiction, and it was confusing to me and the new person trying to treat me. One man fed it, one women shamed me for it, one PA tried to treat me knowing they that were abandoning were better qualified to figure this out so she was careful and cautious with how to proceed, herself very likely unsure of who to believe. Each time... feeding the addiction... the story, the fantasy, the taboo, the effort to resolve, and the what was left unknown to me.
So time, yes, but there is some fighting that also has to happen to break this addiction. Some addictions just can't be stopped cold turkey because it's very dangerous to the addict.