I had a therapist for a few months before covid started.
He was amazing! He was a great listener, he knew exactly when to interject, and respond like a friendly human. He was helpful in the sense that I finally had someone to talk to, and who responded back in a way that made me feel happy. That man had loads of empathy and it showed.
I moved to the UK a few years ago, and have not been able to make friends locally, so I really needed someone like that.
He also gave me a few tools to deal with anxiety, which I still use.
I have been struggling so much these past few years, with deep deep sadness, and difficulty dealing with society in general, completely crumbling in the face of expectations and obligations. I have finally been able to see a psychiatrist through the NHS after a 6 year wait, to have an ADHD and autism evaluation.
That psychiatric consultation was awful! the doctor had lost my diagnostic test, he had not even read it. I had done a lot of introspection and taken notes based on the questions on that test.
Instead, he insisted to have a casual conversation where he asked me very open ended questions. I really struggled to remember on the fly what could be relevant for adhd/autism. He interjected in the weirdest places. He kept insisting that "that's nice, kids these days don't have nice experiences like that" (ok, I saw ponies when I was 3 years old, that doesn't mean I am now cured, what the hell?!) He also was annoyed whenever I asked him to explain better what he was asking. He refused to expand on anything, he kept telling me to just answer his questions. He was robotic and as neutral as possible, right there in the uncanny valley of human behaviour. I saw no empathy in him, nothing seemed geniuine besides his irritation.
I ended up just giving him a bland overview of my entire life, with very few relevant point for sure.
He then told me I had ADHD and autism traits, but we all do, and that it doesn't mean I have ADHD or autism. He prescribed an SSRI. I have yet to have my follow up consultation scheduled, so I have no help until they remember I exist.
I did have a couple of good days since I started medication little more than a month ago, but I mostly have mediocre days, or awful ones when I really have to fight the urge to end it all from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep.
I think I had too much faith in the help that was coming. The hope that help was coming was what kept me going for 6 years since I had asked for that referral.