People seem to think that therapy is some sort of panacea that will cure all that ails you. It sounds so simple: find a counselor (how is glossed over); tell them your problems (implies you know the root cause of your issues rather than just being depressed/stressed/anxious); and they will wave a magic wand and fix it. Simple, right?
I’m on my 6th therapist. The Fae father, his 3rd and that’s just this year. I am beginning to think we are untreatable. The first session is always the same; it starts with sitting down and explaining the problem. Right: so we talk through our daughter’s needs; our lack of time; our stress and exhaustion. We really need someone to help us figure out how to de-stress and get more time to ourselves.
They nod thoughtfully and tell us that we seem stressed and if we were less stressed things really would be easier for us. I try not to roll my eyes at this. It is at this point that 4 of 9 therapists have told us basically “good luck with that” and said they can’t help. 1 didn’t even get that far, just read our file, laughed and said NOOOOO. To be fair, one that saw both the fae father and myself actually made it through two whole sessions before saying we seemed to already have everything as figured-out as was possible, and wished us all the best.
Out of the remaining: one quit; one told me she can’t do any more unless I’m prepared to work with other people; and two told me I needed more sleep (well I’m glad someone told me that, I never worked that out myself).
Oh, this list is not including mister “I can’t help you when you’re being this logical”.
So, in answer to “Have you tried therapy?” Yeah, we tried, but apparently we have the wrong sort of problems.
Onto the next option, I guess: Who do we talk to to get the good drugs?
Raising the Modern Fae 