The One Where I Finally Stopped Settling for “Good Enough”

Dave still says therapy doesn’t work for him.
But here’s the thing — therapy works. He just hasn’t found the right therapist.

And honestly? It took me years—and seven therapists—to find mine.

The first one talked more than I did.
The second gave me whiplash — one week she told me to make a chore list for my ex-husband, and the next week she laughed and said, “What are you? His mommy? Are you going to take away his cell phone if he doesn’t do his chores?”
The third one I actually liked—until she dropped me like a bad habit when my insurance changed.
The fourth was a couples counselor who sided with my ex-husband (something I can’t get into for privacy reasons).
The fifth said we “weren’t a good match.”
The sixth had a newborn and spent half the session checking on the baby.
And my seventh—finally—is the one. We’ve been together for over two years now, which feels like a small miracle in therapy years.

(There were also a short-term therapist I saw to meet insurance requirements before bariatric surgery, and another I briefly saw with my ex-husband—his therapist, who agreed to take us both in for a bit. That one crashed and burned fast—see the Mountains of Madness blog.)

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What Makes the Right One “Right”

For me, it’s not just about credentials or framed degrees.
It’s about connection and accountability.

I need someone I can vent to without being judged.
Someone who will call me out when I’m wrong—with empathy, not attitude.
Someone who can keep me focused on what’s actually important, especially when I’ve got chaos flying in from every direction—my mom’s drama, my siblings’ drama, Dave drama.

My therapist keeps me honed in on me and my girls.
They’re the compass in the chaos.

And when I lost my insurance, they went to bat for me—literally negotiated with their office to lower my out-of-pocket cost because they didn’t want me to have to reduce sessions.

That’s what the right therapist looks like: someone who meets you where you are but refuses to leave you there.

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It’s Trial, Error, and a Little Luck

Finding the right therapist is like dating—except the stakes are your sanity.

Jessie’s first therapist never retained anything from session to session, so they never got past the same entry questions.
One of Demi’s therapists was a total health nut who told him to start waking up early for morning runs—which, given that he’s about as far from a morning person as humanly possible, was doomed from the start. Another advised him to cut off the entire family—a wildly reckless idea for someone who’s already a shut-in and, let’s be honest, a bit of a pathological exaggerationist. (Yes, I know that’s not a real word, but you get the point.)

The point is: sometimes it’s not that therapy doesn’t work—it’s that the therapist doesn’t work for you.

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Before You Sit on That Couch

Before you start therapy, figure out what you actually need from it.
Do you need someone to listen? To challenge you? To help you rebuild structure?

You might not get it right the first time—or the fifth. That’s okay. Every “wrong” therapist still teaches you something about what you need next time.

Therapy isn’t a one-size-fits-all cure. It’s a mirror—and sometimes, you have to try a few before you finally see yourself clearly.

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You Have to Show Up Honestly

I encourage everyone to see a therapist—but you have to be willing to be real with yourself, too.

I make it a point to be completely honest with mine. And if I can’t remember something, or if I’ve been told I remember it differently, I say that. I’ll tell them, “I can’t recall exactly what happened, but this is what I remember—and this is how I’ve filled in the blanks.” Or, “This is how I remember it, but my ex-husband said I’m remembering it wrong. I have no way to prove who’s right, but here’s my side.”

That’s what therapy requires: openness, even when the truth feels uncertain.

Because therapy can do harm when someone isn’t honest—with their therapist or with themselves.

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Investing in Yourself Isn’t Selfish

There are so many people in my life who need therapy but won’t go because they “don’t have time.”
But here’s the thing—if you don’t make time for your own healing, it will eventually demand it from you.

You know the saying: the one in therapy is usually told to go by the ones who need it most.
That’s been true for me more times than I can count.

But I stopped waiting for everyone else to go first.
Because I finally realized—healing isn’t contagious.
Commitment is.

And I’m done settling for “good enough.”