To All the Therapists I’ve Loved (and Hated) Before

Words by Zoe Mills (she/they)

Depression and I go way back. We’re tight. Buddies, so to speak. Like many other students balancing uni, mental illness, and the soul-crushing pain of student debt, last year I began therapy again.

Therapy and I are also well-acquainted. I began seeing mental health experts when I started intermediate. That’s when my ill-fated, topsy turvy journey of depression, anxiety, and the NZ mental health system began. I’m a firm believer that everyone should have access to therapy at some point in their life—it’s a basic human necessity. While I've been fortunate enough to have access to it, the current system is expensive and hard to break into. Finding the right fit of a therapist is even more of an ordeal. But, once you find the right one, it makes all the shit worth it.

Here are the epic highs and lows of the four most significant therapists I have seen (not including the many one-session-and-run therapists), and the lessons I learnt along the way.

Therapist No. 1: Debbie the School Counsellor

My first experiences began like many others in New Zealand—the school counsellor. You already know how it goes. I was in Year 8, sitting in an itchy school uniform and fiddling with a well-thumbed rubix cube while the counsellor handed me a pamphlet on mindfulness. While school counselor Debbie was empathetic, she very clearly was not prepared to confront the large amount of issues that the young students presented to her. I explained to her my problems, staring at my shoes, and looked up to meet a face of deep puzzlement. “That's… a lot,” she told me, flipping through her thick stack of pamphlets again. 

School mental health professionals love both pamphlets and lavender essential oil. Debbie was well-meaning, but this first introduction to therapy taught me that schools need to be equipping their counsellors to deal with much more complex issues than school stress. 

Therapist No. 2: Jaded Janet

Janet did not get my jokes. Janet did not understand my humour at all, which I used as a way to cover up my feelings. Janet did, however, like to roll her eyes and talk to my mum like I wasn’t there. 

I first met Janet when my mum found her online, not long after Debbie. A registered psychologist with a long career of practice, what could possibly go wrong? I walked into her office and was immediately put off. Janet’s office was painted bleak grey. Gone were the motivational posters of my school counsellor's colorful room. Gone were the plushies and sweaty plastic fidget toys. I was in a Grown-Up’s office. Janet’s room was stiff, the air smelling like a hospital, with chairs that were slightly too hard. Janet’s personality matched her interior design. 

As I spoke, I was met with a steely, blank stare and an occasional grunt. Her prognosis felt more like a medical prescription from my GP rather than therapy. Was it her years in the industry that led her to feeling so unempathetic and jaded? Who knows. I went to three sessions before I called it quits.

Therapist No. 3: Facetime Frankie

Frankie! Oh, Frankie, wherefore art thou?! Frankie and I met in the summer between first year and second year at uni, after I left halls feeling the lowest I’d ever felt. Frankie was a therapist at Piki, a free counseling service available to 18-25 year-olds in Wellington. I hadn’t been to regular therapy in a couple of years, and my expectations were low. 

Frankie knocked it out of the park from day one. Someone understood me at last! Despite the signal occasionally flitting in and out from our Zoom calls, Frankie was everything I needed in a therapist—empathetic, funny, yet structured and no bullshit. Our sessions were the highlight of my week. 

But, our time together was cut short. Just as I began opening up around the sixth appointment mark, Frankie informed me that my free sessions were over, and I wasn't able to see her anymore. I was HEARTBROKEN. Soul-shattered. She told me she understood my frustration. The way in which the mental health system works in a box-ticking, ‘quick-fix’ way means that long-term help is hard to access. I closed my laptop and went to call my mate out of frustration, only to be told that she too had had a similar experience in an Auckland system. 

It felt like ripping off a bandaid to a wound that had only just begun to heal.

Therapist No. 4: Bestie Bailey

Finally, I met Bailey. I found Bailey after a string of bad first dates with other therapists, and to put it bluntly, I was losing hope. I’d been emailing practitioners only to receive message after message that they were too full to take on new clients. As I continued to scour PsychologyToday for hours on end, Bailey’s profile popped up and I decided to take a chance on a practitioner with a different specialisation than I’d usually go for. 

And shit, the shoe actually fit. During our first session, I mechanically explained to her my problems. She stopped me and said, “Damn. That sounds really shitty. But we can work through this.'' It was the first time that a mental health professional actually validated my experience and didn't try to talk down to me. 

Bailey makes me feel seen and heard. She pushes me to deal with the tough shit but is also compassionate. Unlike the other professionals I've seen, she actually gets my bad jokes. Everyone needs a Bailey. While it took me ten years to find the right fit, it doesn't have to take you that long. 

There’s a Bailey waiting for you. Go find her.