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• Finding a therapist is a lot like internet dating. You go through a series of unspoken vetting procedures as you tentatively work out whether you are a match for each other. Attracted by what it says on their profile, you make contact by email. A couple of mails tell you if you are interested in the same thing. This is followed by conversations on the phone and if that goes well for both of you and there is a connection, it’s time to set up a first date. I steel myself for the inevitable miscommunications and rejections, clinging to the hope that there will be a happy ending.
  
  Counsellors and therapists are somewhat slow in getting back to emails, although patience isn’t a virtue I possess. (Thankfully I’m not on the point of doing anything drastic.) However, good manners are a non-negotiable for me. Wouldn’t it be possible for people to acknowledge they had received my plea for help at least and give some indication as to when they might be able to give it any consideration? I give them the benefit of the doubt; in their wisdom they cannot be too hasty.
  
  Some therapists require you to fill in quite lengthy and personal forms. So I pour out my heart and send them into the deep blue yonder. I feel exposed and vulnerable. One was never acknowledged. Did they just raise their eyebrows and decide I was ridiculous? You have to be quite motivated and thick skinned for this therapy lark.
  
  I am looking for a relationship, but it isn’t a friend or lover. It’s a travelling companion on the journey to the centre of my soul. The person doesn’t have to have similar tastes and worldviews or send the sparks flying. I don’t have to like this person even. They just have to be astute enough to understand me and to help me change. I don’t know how to make a judgment about this kind of relationship. I’m out of my depth. Qualifications and experience count for only a small part of my decision making. To be frank I don’t understand what the qualifications really mean.
  
  I want them to explain what a therapeutic relationship will be like; that the interactions will not be similar to any I’ve had before. I am plagued with anxieties in the lead up to meeting a therapist in the flesh. I don’t feel in crisis as I haven’t seen my son for a while – it’s our contact that leaves me inconsolable. Perhaps I need to get myself into that hurt state or they will think I am a fraud. Is therapy just an indulgence? Perhaps it’s best not to be fraught so that I can look at things calmly and objectively. Then there’s confidentiality. What happens if they know people that I know? They say you are no more than six ‘steps’ away from each person on Earth. Maybe those in remote jungle villages don’t count so that pushes the odds up for the incestuous community I live in. Should I go through a list of people I’m likely to talk about, so any conflict of interest can be declared?
  
  My first date is with a family therapist. I am greeted by a Diana Dors lookalike. This is a family house and I am aware that the other residents have been shushed behind a door. (I cringe.) I am guided to the couch. She sits on a chair. I try not to look around me. I hadn’t realised how important the sterile, minimalist offices of the medical profession are. Now I am surrounded by someone’s personal history. Here I am trying to sum up the issues in my life with the mementos of last year’s visit to Crete in my peripheral vision. She is collaborative and warm. She doesn’t impart advice, but does radiate empathy and gives reassurance. I think I could feel better about my son quickly if I spent time with this therapist.
  
  My other date is with a psychodynamic psychotherapist – an earnest Jeanette Winterson. She doesn’t say a lot at all – the odd poignant question or an observation that interrupts my outpourings. Not even any mention of any contracts or professional standards. I leave confused and with my head aching. I’d have to be in it for the long haul with her.
  
  How to choose? Two-timing might be an option if I could afford it. I know that I won’t find verything I want in one person. I’ve no idea if it is going to work out in the long run. I could keep looking forever until I find The One. Oh no, I’m a commitment phobe. I do need therapy. 
  
  
  

• Some details have been changed to protect identities.