The Struggle with Therapy: A Therapist’s Story

If the title got you curious, chances are you’ve either been there or are afraid to be. Maybe you've rejected the whole idea of therapy altogether. Well, let’s get to what I actually wanted to share, the real struggle of going to therapy, as a therapist!

I’m a therapist myself (thank you… thank you… imagining people going wow). Growing up, I had a tough childhood, and like most people, the good and bad in me today are shaped by what I went through. So, naturally, self-work and reflection were things I knew I had to do.

It started in my second year of PG when studying psychology and therapy pushed me to sign up—out of curiosity, not insight. I expected the classic “know-it-all” therapist with glasses, a notebook, and me crying on the couch. Maybe that’s why I chose a senior therapist (old is gold, right?), thinking she’d understand me better. Since I had childhood issues, I had to go for psychodynamic therapy.

At first, it felt good to finally talk about things I never thought I’d share. But she was far—veryyy far. No online sessions. Her fees were, let’s just say, equally senior. And the work felt slow, repetitive. With my training and internship experience, I expected more direction. After 10-11 sessions, the long travel, high cost, and slow progress made me question if I could continue. So, I just stopped going.

Months passed. Then came a personal crisis. My relationships were suffering, and I could see my patterns resurfacing. This time, I knew exactly what I wanted—therapy to fix my relationships. My campus had professors doubling as student counselors, so I tried therapy there. But the dynamic felt… off. It felt like I was being judged, like I had to correct my behavior. I walked out of sessions feeling guilty, ashamed, and more self-critical than before. Instead of healing, I started isolating myself, overthinking, picking fights. Eventually, I felt so low I just stopped therapy altogether.

By now, I’d worked with therapists using Psychodynamic, Transactional Analysis, and Person-Centered Therapy—and none of it felt like it worked for me. I kept wondering:

Am I the problem? Is it the approach? Am I choosing the wrong therapist? The frustration, disappointment, and even hurt kept piling up.

But I didn’t give up. I kept trying.

Finally, Schema Therapy clicked. It gave me answers to long-standing questions. I did the homework, had breakthroughs, and actually noticed a change in my patterns. This was what I had been looking for. But just when it felt right, my therapist became unavailable. She had limited slots due to another job, and I had to book sessions 2-3 weeks in advance. Honestly, I cannot wait that long to process things. Eventually, I dropped out again.

At this point, therapist-hopping became exhausting. Just when I found someone I clicked with, something went wrong. One therapist quit mid-treatment. Another went on maternity leave and referred me to someone else. And then, after three sessions with another therapist—after opening up, sharing my history—he casually mentioned he was on his notice period and wouldn’t be able to continue. My first thought? Why the hell didn’t he mention this before starting the work? Followed by: Why does this always happen to me?

And the worst? A therapist shared something deeply personal from my sessions with her team. I only found out while booking my next session. I confronted her, and she admitted her mistake and apologized.

After all these experiences, I’m left with more questions than answers: Where do I go from here? How do I trust another therapist? How do I find one who won’t abandon me mid-journey? Will I ever find the right fit? Will therapy ever fix me?

And if this is what I—someone from the field—have gone through, I can only imagine how much harder it must be for someone with no background in psychology. One disappointing experience is enough to make someone give up on therapy altogether.

But despite everything, I haven’t lost hope. Maybe the right fit is out there. Maybe the real work is in keeping at it. Maybe, just maybe, therapy will finally feel like home someday.