For me, therapy was a last resort. I had reached the point where I couldn’t go on. My brother had died, my high-pressure job was too much to bear, my relationship was rotten, and I wasn’t dealing with any of it. On the contrary, it was dealing with me. I was anxious and depressed, and my weight had plummeted. Antidepressants weren’t an option — I was afraid of taking them — and my doctor was nothing short of unhelpful. I had tried everything else I could think of, so I opted for therapy.
It seems obvious now, but you don’t have to be on your knees before you ask for help. You can use therapy to deal with sexual hang-ups, relationship troubles, grief, even to get to the bottom of those unexplained problems that won’t go away, such as insomnia. Like many others, though, I waited until I hit rock bottom before I went looking.
How did I find my therapist? Through a friend. This isn’t an approach I would now recommend, as anyone (yes, anyone) can call themselves a counsellor or a therapist. The field isn’t regulated by law. I have learnt that the best course of action is to see a helpful GP and get a referral to a therapist who is accredited to one of the big organisations.
If you can’t wait the six months it could take to reach the top of the NHS waiting list, find a way to pay for it. Don’t do what I did and sign up to see the first person who passes you a tissue, without knowing what school of thought they belong to. It’s bound to be wrong for you.
I saw my therapist — let’s call her Anna — once a week for an hour, at £65 a time. Her approach wasn’t Freudian or cognitive, more tea and sympathy. I didn’t question it, because clearly it had worked for the person who had recommended her. My head was in a spin, so how was I to judge whether or not she was right for me? She was warm, she was motherly and she was qualified. We spent a long time talking about my “difficult” childhood, dwelling on the past. We didn’t discuss how I could make changes in the present, and that was what I needed. She would just pat my hand and sympathise, and with every session that passed, I felt a little bit worse. I began to wake up, sick with nerves, at the prospect of facing another day. I could see the therapy wasn’t working, yet still I went back for more.
Anna put to me the possibility of drugs to treat my anxiety. I refused them, seeing drugs as a failure. But my situation was spiralling out of control. I felt that I could no longer help myself, so I looked to her to take care of me. And quickly, like many others before me, I was hooked. I’ve spoken to people who have spent years in counselling, with therapists they adore, yet are not getting any better. Of course, you don’t just get hooked on good therapists; you can come to rely on those who are downright dangerous. So how can you tell if your therapy is working for you?
Don’t go into it thinking it’s going to be easy. It will probably be something akin to a mental assault course. You may find yourself raging and crying, hating your therapist and what you’re being put through. But that’s not a bad thing. To have your long-held ideas challenged is tough, and your therapist is not doing you any favours if they give you an easy ride. My ride with Anna was way too smooth. Then, one day, she told me something I really didn’t want to hear. At the end of what was to be our last session, I asked her why she had become a therapist. “My daughter died,” she told me. “She was hit by a car, and I fell apart.” My heart went out to her and, instantly, the relationship changed. She could no longer look after me, because, to my mind, she needed looking after herself. The balance of power had changed irrevocably.
I never went back to see Anna. Not because of what she had told me, but because I was physically unable to. I had become so ill that I gave up my job and left London, to be looked after by my mother. And treated with drugs. Was it my therapy that pushed me over the edge? I can’t answer that with certainty. Maybe I was ready to topple anyway. But I can’t help feeling Anna broke me down without ever intending to help pick up the pieces, and I now know this is a common complaint from those who have found the talking cure ineffective.
It can also be depressingly long-winded. A faster-acting alternative is cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), which helps patients recognise negative ways of thinking and turn them around. This has worked for me. After my first negative experience of therapy, I did my research, consulted my GP and found that a short burst of CBT would give me the tools to help myself. Not that I can afford to be smug. Treatment is hard. And the demons are still just around the corner.
Christiane Amory talked to Mia Ogden
HOW TO FIND A THERAPIST
See your GP for a referral, or find a qualified therapist via the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy (www.bacp.co.uk), the British Association for Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapies (www.babcp.org.uk) or the United Kingdom Council for Psychotherapy (www.psychotherapy.org.uk). It is not unsual to see several therapists before you find one who is right for you. Make sure your therapist is properly qualified and “audition” suitable candidates on your first visit. Your therapist should be sympathetic, but detached enough to be objective.
WHICH THERAPY IS RIGHT FOR YOU?
Psychodynamic psychotherapy
Stresses the importance of the unconscious and past experiences in current behaviour. Good for Family problems, abuse and “I hate my mother” syndrome.
Cognitive therapy
Helps patients to recognise negative beliefs that are influencing their emotions and, with practice, alter habitual thoughts and behaviour. Good for Anxiety, phobias, panic and depression.
Person-centred therapy
Provides patients with an accepting listener to whom they can express emotions and thus come to terms with negative feelings. Good for Bereavement and life crises.
