You’ve been here before. You tried therapy, it didn’t quite feel right, and now you’re left wondering what that means. Was it your fault? Are you too complicated, too resistant, too broken for it to work? Did you do it wrong somehow, or is therapy simply not for you? Finding the right therapist is harder than anyone tells you, and when it doesn’t work out, the easiest person to blame is yourself.
It probably isn’t any of those things. The fit was wrong, or the approach was wrong, or the level of work was wrong for where you were at the time. That matters more than most people realise, and nobody tells you this when you’re starting out.
I’ve had several different therapists over forty years, for many different reasons. Some felt right. Some were limited in their helpfulness. And some have been an absolute haven. The difference was rarely about their qualifications or experience.
The right therapy for the right season
At a very raw time, a bereavement counsellor handed me a paper assessment form. I started ticking boxes, felt something in me resist, screwed it up and threw it in the bin. She didn’t seem to mind. I carried on seeing her for a few weeks because I desperately needed some support, and she provided it.
But that was containment, not the deeper work. She was right for that occasion. What I needed then was someone steady to sit with me while things were very raw. Most people aren’t told there’s a difference between that kind of support and longer-term relational work. If therapy felt surface-level or the changes didn’t stick, it may simply be that you were offered crisis support when what you needed was something slower and more relational, or the other way around. That’s not failure, it’s simply a mismatch.
When the approach gets in the way
On a couple of occasions, my partner and I saw a sex therapist together. In each case it wasn’t particularly helpful. It felt more like being in a remedial class at school, being handed homework to get us back up to scratch. The therapist wasn’t really relating to us as a couple; we were being put through a process rather than being understood for who we were and what the issues actually meant on a deeper level.
We later found tantra groups where we were encouraged to explore massage, mindfulness and breathing. We were getting to know our own bodies and what we needed, rather than following someone else’s protocol. The difference was simple: in one setting we were a presenting problem to be corrected; in the other, we were two people trying to understand ourselves.
That distinction seems important. A therapist who is more interested in applying their model than in understanding you will leave you feeling processed. You might not be able to name it at the time, but you’ll feel it.
What a good fit actually feels like
I’ve been seeing my current therapist for over three years. I cycle to her each fortnight with a few thoughts going through my head, but I never arrive with an agenda. Stuff just spills out. She knows my background, elements of my childhood, my relationships, the highs and lows of life past and present. She knows about the imagery of my inner child and parts of my experience where feelings are more vivid than factual detail. Each session takes us on a journey inwards.
As we come to a close, she asks what I’m doing afterwards. It started as a way of reminding me to ground myself before getting back into ordinary life. Now she knows the answer: I will find a café, order a hot coffee and something comforting to eat, and spend at least an hour alone. No social contact, no talking, no scrolling. Just sitting with whatever happened in the room, letting it settle.
That question, “What are you doing after this?”, is a small thing. But it tells me everything about how she sees me. She is thinking about me as a whole person, not just the fifty minutes. She wants to know I’ll be alright when I walk out the door.
That is what a good fit feels like from the inside. You arrive without a plan, something moves anyway, and afterwards you need to be alone because you’re full.
So what are you actually looking for?
Not credentials. Not a long list of models and modalities. Those things matter less than you’ve been led to believe.
Start with the profile. Does something in it connect with you? Does this person seem interested in people, or in problems? If nothing lands, move on.
If something does, there’s often a phone call. Notice how you feel during it. Do you feel heard, right there in those ten minutes? That’s information.
If you get to a first session, notice what happens in the room. Do you feel like a person or a case? Are they following you, or leading you through their process?
And pay attention to the hour after. Do you need to sit quietly and let things settle, or are you left with a vague sense of discomfort and unfinished business? Both can be useful information, but they’re different kinds.
The felt sense of a session is data. Your body is registering something your mind hasn’t caught up with yet.
If therapy didn’t work before, you probably knew something was off. You just didn’t know you were allowed to trust that feeling. You are.
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