Content Warning: this isn’t my usual sort of post. There’s talk of terrible therapists and toward the end there’s discussion of emotional abuse. If you’re in a vulnerable place, feel free to skip this one.

The thought of walking into a successful stranger’s office and talking about my flaws and failures terrifies me. That’s the biggest reason that, in spite of years of crippling depression and anxiety, I never went to therapy when I was young. I probably could have learned a lot from a caring professional, but instead I did a lot of thinking and read a lot of self-help and figured out enough to build a pretty decent life over time.

Then the pandemic hit and old anxieties started flaring up. Online therapy was everywhere, affordable, and for part of the pandemic it was the only option for new patients. Plus, texting a successful stranger about my flaws and failures felt safer than sitting there in person, and I get a lot out of writing things down anyway.

So I tried Better Help about a year and a half ago. I filled out the online quiz about my problems and preferences and they matched me with a therapist. Even though I specifically asked for a non-religious therapist, I guess the algorithm saw that I was from Utah and matched me up with a Mormon. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t a good fit for me so after a few texts back and forth I had the service match me with a new therapist. Who also turned out to be Mormon. For pete’s sake, Better Help, not everyone in Utah is Mormon! This therapist seemed otherwise pretty good, though, so I stuck with her for a while and she was helpful about some things. I quit after a couple months, though, because Better Help makes you constantly fill out useless little quizzes and worksheets and read little articles about basic psychological concepts. I’m sure that’s helpful for some people but it left me very little time to actually discuss my specific concerns.

I took my insights and moved on. I focused on getting through the pandemic, moving, finding my passions again. Then around New Year’s my oldest daughter wanted to talk to a therapist about some things. We chose Talk Space, the other major online therapy service. This one lets you choose a therapist from several options. The first one my daughter chose never answered–she seems to be still listed but not actually working with Talk Space anymore–but the second one was a good match and my daughter feels really helped.

After seeing her success, I thought I’d try it for myself. I had noticed some recurring patterns I fall into, especially when I’m stressed, and I wanted to talk them through with someone. It did not work out the way I’d planned. I went into my Talk Space experience more or less okay, and 4 therapy attempts later I came out devastated.

The first therapist apparently doesn’t type. He also doesn’t read, I guess. I took the time to type out my issues and questions clearly and only got short, vague voice mails in reply. When I signed up I got a free 10 minute live session, and this guy wanted me to do that before he could help me. I had COVID, so I requested live chat instead of video because I was coughing and sniffling a lot. He agreed, then stood me up because he didn’t want to text. Believe it or not, I didn’t request a new therapist there and then. I didn’t quit until he sent me a voicemail about self care that included, among other weird advice, the claim that I needed “7 hours of sleep a night, no more, no less.” Whatever, dude.

The second therapist was worse. So much worse. I told her I had some lingering issues after quitting the Mormon church, and that leaving created a lot of awkwardness between me and my in-laws, not to mention all the weird love bombing the neighbors tried. This therapist repeatedly messaged me back that she’s worked with plenty of Mormons who walked away and were fine. She was very insistent about this. They were fine, so I should be fine. She told me that if it bothers me so much I should start a support group. Yup. I thought if something bothered me so much I should bring it up to a therapist, but I guess not.

The third therapist did not exist. No contact at all. Which, to be fair, is a better response than I got from the first two.

At this point I started googling “Talk Space refund” and the results were discouraging. So after a week or two of hating the first two therapists, I tried one more time to find a normal human on Talk Space. I wasn’t expecting much. In fact, my first message was a brief description of why I’d left the first three options and an admission of how low my expectations are.

This therapist was wonderful. She was understanding and insightful and supportive, and when I explained what I wanted to work on she had helpful things to say. I jumped in with both feet, trying to really lay out my recurring patterns and the traumas that pretty clearly contributed to them.

Two days into this vulnerable process, she quit Talk Space. She felt really bad about it and tried to work something out, but by this time I was so disappointed and disgusted with the whole ordeal that I just couldn’t. It just felt so awful, finding the promise of help and having it snatched away like that.

Going to therapy is a vulnerable thing, and most people seeking it out are not in great emotional shape. As an entire industry, the therapy world should be sensitive to this fact and make it as easy as possible to find a good therapist and make a good connection. Instead, there’s this. Even if I had the energy and willingness to find an in-person therapist it generally means weeks on waiting lists and the real possibility of half a dozen unpleasant or even damaging interviews with new therapists befor you find a good fit. This isn’t right at all.

I think a good relationship with a therapist can work wonders–I’ve known dozens of people really helped by good therapists. I just think the industry as a whole is kind of a cruel scam, making it so hard and painful to even find a good therapeutic relationship. I’m not sure I’ll ever find it in myself to try again.

But there is a silver lining. Before the nice therapist abandoned me, she suggested I look up narcissistic abuse. After I was done crying about Talk Space and demanding my refund, I did indeed look it up and found some really useful resources, including a book called Healing from Hidden Abuse. I haven’t finished the book, but one of the first things the author does is drive home the idea that narcissistic abuse is not an accident. The narcissistic person isn’t trying really hard to care about you or be a good person, they’re choosing to do this awful stuff for their own personal reasons. Sure, they may be broken and have a lot to deal with, but they’re choosing to deal with it by manipulating and abusing people instead of some better way.

This hi me hard. Years ago, I had to cut off almost all contact with my mother. You’re not my therapist and don’t need my childhood traumas dumped on you, but it had to be done. The day I hung up the phone on her and blocked her number was the day I really started healing from a whole lot of things. I felt really guilty, though. Of course I felt awful about it. I really saw her as a person who wanted to love me, tried to love me, but just couldn’t overcome the weight of all her traumas and emotional issues. I had a lot of compassion for that broken woman, but I had to accept that she might never be able to fight through it.

Then I started this book, and my whole perspective changed. I finally realized my mother isn’t drowning in trauma at all, she just says that to excuse her incredibly selfish and abusive behavior. I mean, I’m sure she has traumas; something happened to push her to such narcissistic behavior, but she still chose and still chooses to abuse her family instead of seeking help.

When I realized that, I realized I’ve lived my whole life terrified of drowning in my own trauma. Not consciously, but deep down I thought that I had at least as much trauma and emotional baggage as my mom, and if she couldn’t rise above it and learn to be happy I might not be able to either. I put all my efforts into being perfect, because anything less than 100% effort might not be good enough. Of course, if my mom is actually just a narcissistic jerk who doesn’t really care how much she’s traumatized her kids, well, I’m already not that. I’m already okay. I can relax.

I’m not sure I’ve explained this well at all. It might not make any sense without a lot more depressing details about the way I was raised. But this insight has changed everything for the better and I can feel my life transforming in subtle but foundational ways. And it’s all thanks to therapy, I guess. Without all that shitty, useless therapy I might never have found the cheap self-help book that changed my life. So thanks, Talk Space. I guess.