I was feeling hopeful when I went to the appointment with a new psychologist, P.   I had asked my GP to refer me to someone ‘strong’, and not too ‘nice’.  I felt I needed someone who could withstand my overwhelming sense of anger and unforgiveness, and was concerned about finding someone who could accommodate this.

I felt further assured when I entered the office and saw the quirky furniture and handmade items, such as the crochet tissue box cover.   It signalled to me a comfortable, non-clinical environment, and I found this encouraging, as this was the kind of atmosphere I preferred personally.

The psych herself was at the reception desk (fine, I thought, I am used to sole practitioners who handle their own phone calls).

After we moved to the treatment room, I listened to P for approximately 7 minutes of dialogue about fees, how they were related to the Health Plan option which my GP had not yet shared with the psych, and as I conveyed, my GP had said she would pass on the plan after my first consultation with P.

And then I was walked through a 2 page details form on a clipboard, which I had to be talked through, apparently.  Part of this presentation involved the conditions of confidentiality, and the conditions under which it might be bypassed, including a recent example of the court case she had been required to speak to on the previous day, which she felt the need to expound upon at some length.

At this point, I did actually ask her to ‘move on’.  It was becoming more about her than me, and I wondered how this was supposed to establish a rapport.

(I knew she wanted to be paid, and of course I expected confidentiality: this needed to be communicated of course, but there must be a better way!)

By now, I was becoming quite irritated by the focus on her receiving her payment (which we had already discussed in a prior phone call from her), including the fine details of cancellation fees etc.

Also, I had started the day with hope, that a rapport with a good professional might really turn me around.  I had made an extra effort to not look grey and dreadful – to go in there looking not totally demented and beyond salvation.

(As much as I know about psychology, cbt, and coaching, through my own studies and lived experience: I was prepared for and needed to accept the help of someone else for my own desperate situation.  But this hope was rapidly dissipated.)

Then, she moved on to administer a 42 item questionnaire (after another lengthy explanation, and my GP had already administered), and which I had to complete on a tablet.  No problem for me, relatively tech savvy, but another irritating 20 mins or so in an over bright office, while she sits there doing who knows what!  (all this time part of the $135 fee? I suppose so).

And then, surprise, surprise, my online score shows that I am ‘extremely depressed!’   I could have told her that at the outset – or some professional to professional communication from my GP could have established this, at the very least.

Right. Ok.  But then comes at last, the first non-fee related, non-administrative question, after, say 20 mins of a 1 hour appointment:

“So, Dianne, how can I help you?”

All my hope for positive work with this therapist had by this time evaporated, and it was at a great cost that I was holding on to my rage.

I need to add some context here, as a few days prior I had spoken to a lay counsellor, whose strong but gentle, proactive approach had elicited, and given me the safety to share in a way previously unknown.  She had the ability to ask the unaskable questions, the questions that NEED to be asked; else clients will NOT volunteer, for all sorts of reasons, but mostly with depression, it is because we stuff it down!  We need someone to bring it out!

For me, to sit with this ostensibly qualified person, making sure that they receive their full payment ahead of any other priority, and not be expected to support or seek out all the hard stuff, was just too much.

I wasn’t just giving her ‘clues’, I was telling her straight out what was not working for me.

I almost walked out, and told her that, and asked how she would feel if that was what happened.  It took her some time to respond, but she said it would be ‘ a shame’.  Then I asked “you will still get paid for this time, won’t you?”  She nodded.

Trying to do ‘the right thing,’ I gave her an extremely truncated version of my history, but there was no way I was going to explore anything beyond that – she simply had not earned my trust, or made any effort to do so.  I made it as short as I could, and was grateful for an outside phone call that made it acceptable for me to leave sooner.

I know in this day and age we place huge importance on academic qualifications, and I acknowledge wholeheartedly that our society needs suitably qualified health professionals of all kinds.

But we need more than ever, especially in areas of mental health, to acknowledge the skill and efficacy of those individuals who enter community service with ‘lived experience’, rather than a roll of academic ‘qualifications.’

When a person is on the brink of a life or death scenario, surely this should be the overwhelming priority, rather than who PAYS THE BILL.

If you find yourself in the consultation room of a mental health professional, surely the priority subject of discussion should be the reason for the visit, rather than ‘who’s gonna pay me?’

How do you work this out ahead of time?  Between the health professionals surely – not at the expense of the state of mind of the patient who, by definition is caught up in this scenario as the result of a mental health crisis and ill-equipped to deal with the barriers that distance from what may be desperately needed help.

At last, time was up, and she asked if I wanted another appointment.  After a pause, I told her I would think about it.

But, it’s not really a great choice.  I’m not going to spend another 5 hours on nodding and smiling, even if it is at the expense of the taxpayer.  I feel regret for those that do.  And I think that in this area, academic qualifications are way over rated and over relied upon.

As for me, I am still CTP (circling the plughole), but not quite ready yet, to pull the plug!