Finding a therapist is a lot like internet dating. You go through a series of unspoken vetting procedures as you tentatively work out whether you are a match for each other. Attracted by what it says on their profile, you make contact by email.
I am compelled to start with statistics. In October, when our course began, we were 25 – of whom 23 were women. The winter, the pressures of being adults and parents in a credit crunch, the demands of the study schedule, have reduced us to 21.
I have many friends, oh yes. In fact, the numbers probably go into the hundreds. We meet regularly for a good chat, a bit of a laugh, perhaps to talk difficult things through, before heading off in our own separate directions. I’ve never actually met many of them,
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