My guide of what to look for & expect when seeking a therapist.

Growing up on old-school Disney, I was familiar and even believed in the concept of kissing a few frogs en-route to finding my prince. It was only with hindsight that I realised the same process is true for finding a counsellor.

I’ll share my journey in a hope that it shines the way for your own.

Once upon a time in a doctor’s surgery just up the road I was allocated my 1^st ever counsellor. And whilst I had no choice (except the choice to not attend), what I learned from her became more important than I’ve ever actually realised before today. 

I don’t recall her name, but I’ll call her Jackie. Jackie was a short, middle aged, “mumsy” lady who gave me, very literally, tea and sympathy on a weekly basis. I felt we spent an hour together with her basically saying “boo hoo, poor you” Yes she validated how I felt, but . . . 

Lesson the 1^st – Sympathy is NOT empathy.. And empathy is vital to successful therapy. 

Sympathy holds you where you are. Whereas empathy, used well and in conjunction with other skills can help you to move forward.

Still, Jackie really listened and gave me hugs as I left.

Lesson the 2^nd – a good therapist really listens and hears you.

With my own mother living thousands of miles away, she happily filled this void and for this I was grateful. This is the bare minimum you should be able to expect from your therapist.

Lesson the 3^rd – I personally like female therapists who in some way (often looks, warmth and their energy) remind me of my ideal of a mother.

My 2^nd cry for counselling came some years later when I’d moved to the sleepy suburbs of Surrey. My memory of this therapist is hazy at best. I don’t even recall if I made it beyond 2 sessions, and here’s why. . .

Lesson the 4^th –  I do not work well with therapists who are clinical in their approach.

No matter how mum-like they may appear at first glance, this is a huge barrier for me. If a therapist is sat taking notes, making little eye-contact and trying to diagnose and categorise me – our days working together are numbered. Now qualified, I know that this lack of engagement means there is no attunement, essential for healing trauma, of which I had plenty. Again she (and she was so insignificant I won’t even find her a name) was doctor referred, so it was her or no-one. Much to my dismay, at the time I decided I was by far better off alone than feeling like an inconvenience, a number and not a person. There was no warmth and neither sympathy nor empathy. Whilst the words “just get over it” never fell from her lips, I felt it as a strong message radiating from her, and so I quit. Yet another frog!

Lesson the 5^th – No therapist was better than the wrong therapist!

Feeling let down by what the NHS kept offering me, and embarrassed and ashamed to be rejecting what they constituted as “help” it was over a year before I tried again. I’d moved closer into London and with a new doctors surgery came the possibility of a new counsellor. You may be questioning why I was still even trying at this point – but it’s a reflection of where I was mentally, and equally the doctors kept suggesting it.

We’ll call this next lady Kendra. I found my way (pre sat-nav) to the street of her office. It was in a part of town I was unfamiliar with and my anxiety was high as I felt the definite need to put my steering lock on and mentally note where I’d parked. I prayed my car would still be there and in 1 piece upon my return.

Lesson the 6^th – I needed to feel safe & comfortable accessing therapy.

I sat in a cluttered reception that was very doctors surgery-esque, wondering who Kendra would be. After waiting beyond my scheduled start time she finally called my name.

Lesson the 7^th – punctuality in a counsellor is very important to me.

As I took in the person stood before me my heart sank. She was not the mother figure I subconsciously craved. In fact we were poles apart and I wondered how we might relate to one another. A Titanic quote popped into my head:

“I know what you must be thinking, poor little rich girl, what does she know about misery.”

And yet ironically I wasn’t rich, but I perceived myself to be in comparison. Or at least I projected onto Kendra that she’d think I was privileged and with no real justification for my suffering.

Lesson the 8^th – I needed to see some relatability between me & my counsellor.

I clocked these thoughts, beat myself up for them and as we walked to the room, resolving to try and make this work. Open to the fact I was being judgemental, and as always, happy to be proven wrong.

Kendra was practiced in CBT, which I was then unfamiliar with. The 1^st session passed uncomfortably with me trying to justify my presence by relaying some of what I was and had been going through. As I sat in my car after, relieved she was just as I left her, I didn’t know how I felt. I’d spent the session trying to validate myself to her and had no idea how it had landed. She hadn’t been warm. I wasn’t put at ease. The only thing I felt marginally more relaxed about as I made the journey back there the next week, was knowing where I was going and having some faith in an apparent lack of car crime!

The wait became familiar, her face was now familiar, only this 2^nd time I noticed an almost scolded-child feeling as I trailed behind her to the room. As if I were being taken to the headmaster for a crime I was unaware I’d committed. 2 things are clear from that week, 1 she forgot my name and 2. despite her rigorous note taking the week before, I had to recount my story again. That had been lost too!

Lesson the 9^th – if your therapist forgets your name or your story and doesn’t bring it into the conversation or/and apologise – RUN! And if it happens more than once (without a very good reason), even with the apology – RUN!

I stuck out 4 sessions with Kendra before I bailed on her. 4 weeks of repeating myself and not being remembered only diminished my incredibly low self-worth further. It would have been better for my mental health if I’d apologised and bolted when 1^st I saw her.

Lesson the 10^th – trust your instincts & intuition.

Time passed, seasons changed and I felt better in moments and then worse. You know, life happened.

When I initially sought out Sally it wasn’t for myself. But the success I saw her have with my now ex caused me to turn to her when I finally felt brave enough (& desperate enough) to try again.

Sally only agreed to see me because her sessions and my relationship with that partner were both very much over. I appreciated her clarifying this boundary. I’d seen 1^st hand how she’d worked with my ex which had given me faith in her. The fact that she was now being ethical and wouldn’t have seen me if we’d still been a couple (conflict of interests) made me feel sure that she’d never forget my name!

And in the 4 years we worked together, she never did.

So I know the question on your lips is likely “what was it about Sally?” The big thing, was that I’d finally learnt from all my previous experiences.

* She showed me empathy, not sympathy.

* She was my idea of “motherly”.

* She was humanistic and not clinical – never trying to diagnose or interpret me.

*She worked in a location I felt comfortable accessing.

* If she ever ran late, I would receive an apology and the time would be made up at the end.

*There was a relatability that meant I didn’t feel I had to prove myself.

* She tracked my story and emotions throughout our time together. 

The real turning point in my journey with Sally came 2 years in. I’d been a very avoidant client, often missing sessions. As I was paying, I thought this was ok as hey, she got paid for doing nothing – what wasn’t to like from her perspective!? I know I wouldn’t tolerate me as a client! One day, she told me we’d been working together for 2 years , and that was usually the limit for the service she worked for. Before I could burst into tears she continued with a however. However . . . she’d be happy to continue our work if I could make a much bigger commitment to attending.

They say children crave boundaries and that’s how I felt in that moment. Although in my early 30s, my inner child was very active. Rather than feeling scolded or chastised, I felt she really wanted to help me, if only I’d show up and do the work. My reasons for avoiding had been valid (to me). Hard up financially I often chose work over a session as I was self-employed and worked infrequently. And when my depression crippled me I found everything required too much energy – which I didn’t have. But following this very warm, boundaried and honest conversation, I went from avoidant imp to star student almost overnight. I often felt alone & lost in London (which paradoxically was part of the appeal) but in Sally I’d found something I’d so desperately been missing – someone who cared.

Now a therapist myself (which came about as I wanted to do for others what Sally had done for me) I can better articulate what she gave me:-

*Space & silence – to be, to think, to consider and re-examine.

*Safety – amidst the hustle & bustle of London life I felt safe in her company no matter how vulnerable I became.

*Trust & reliability – she was there for me weekly, consistently, even when I wasn’t! Her responses to me were also trustworthy & reliable in their consistency.

*Empathy – she was warm & genuine & always tried to get how things were for me. Never assuming or jumping to conclusions.

*Autonomy – I always got to choose what we spoke about. I never felt led or rushed. If she had an agenda other than to help me on my terms, it was never apparent.

*A complete lack of judgement – I said some terrible things in that room & yet her warmth & positive regard of me never wavered – even when I baited her to.

Sally did what a great parent does and somehow taught me to parent myself.

Consequently, I flew the nest when I felt confident to.

Was Sally perfect? No. But she was a perfect match for me at that time, which is the best I think you can realistically hope for. Thank you Sally. X

And so, when over a decade later I was in the thick of my counselling diploma, working with my own clients, I found myself in a very enviable position. My peers would say “You’re so lucky to have a supervisor you work well with.” LUCK!!!! It had nothing to do with luck – it was a bloody hard slog!

Fortunately for me, 3 years earlier I’d decided I’d like to work with a counsellor again on something that kept playing out in my relationships.

Trawling through counselling directories can be an overwhelming task, especially with the market as saturated as it is. But I felt I’d nailed my selection process.

1. Search by area – how far am I happy to travel? Face to face was important to me.

2. Filter for women only.

3. My need for a motherly type meant I was looking for older women.

4. As I was a trainee counsellor, I knew I’d need a supervisor further down the line, so added that training specification in.

5. Relatability – this would be all down to the photo.

6. I knew maybe I wouldn’t strike gold the 1^st time, so I looked for those offering a free 1^st session.

A few clicks later and I found Joyce (a pseudonym). I didn’t doubt my choice as I typed out and sent that 1^st email, and have never doubted it since. I won’t call her a prince, to conclude our tale, and maybe it wasn’t all happily ever after as I’ve since learnt life isn’t a fairy story. But I do know that I am done kissing frogs!

Therapy can be costly, but when I found counsellors who were right for me it was, and still is the best money I spend every month. So big thanks to Sally & Joyce.

Here endeth the lesson.