mental health

4 Things to Consider When Choosing a Sex Therapist on lifesexplicit

Kate Sloan
I don’t have a suitable photo to go with this post, so let’s just pretend this is me in my therapist’s waiting room…

Sex therapists are so fucking cool. I would say that they’re “doing the lord’s work,” if I were religiously inclined; instead, I’ll just say that they save lives – because I truly believe that they do.

Sexual shame and sexual trauma are so insidiously evil that they can go unexamined for years, even decades – festering inside, often ruining relationships along the way. Sex therapists help their clients exhume and examine these forces, and hopefully heal from them.

As I’ve told you before, finding the right therapist can be really tricky, especially when you’re queer, trans, kinky, and/or non-monogamous. That’s why I’m so thrilled that there are searchable databases of sex-positive practitioners online now – such as the sponsor of today’s post, lifesexplicit, a hub for sexuality and relationships experts, including coaches, therapists, and educators. Yay!

If you’ve been thinking about hiring a sex therapist, sex coach, or similar, there are a few questions you might want to ask yourself before you start your search, to help clarify what you’re looking for…

 

What do you need help with?

Seems obvious, perhaps – but sometimes our issues can feel so overwhelming that we may not actually have a clear sense of what those issues are. Maybe spend some time journaling, or talking with a friend or partner, about the experiences/thoughts/feelings that have led you to consider sex therapy. Having clear language for your current struggles will be super helpful when you reach out to practitioners.

It’s okay if the scope and focus of your therapy end up changing, down the road. For instance, when I started working with a new therapist in 2020, I thought it was mainly to address issues around polyamory, but the deeper we went, the more it became clear that the roots of my struggles were childhood trauma, codependency, and people-pleasing – so that’s what we ended up working on most. Try just crafting a sentence or two about what you think your issue is, at the moment, to give potential therapists an idea of what sort of help you’re looking for.

(If you’re looking for a fun way to clarify what you struggle with, lifesexplicit has a bunch of quizzes about sexuality on their website that might get your neurons firing. For instance, their “Do I Have a Healthy Attitude Toward Sex & Intimacy?” quiz told me that I probably have issues with sexual insecurity and shame, which is… sadly accurate!)

 

What modalities are you interested in?

You might not know the answer to this, and it’s fine if you don’t – but it could help you narrow down the available options to decide on what type of therapy you’re seeking. You might know, for instance, that cognitive-behavioral therapy has not worked well for you in the past, so maybe you want to explore a more offbeat modality.

Worth noting here: While professionally accredited, board-certified therapists can be great, they are not the only ones who know useful things that can improve your sex life. Some of my most important lessons have been taught to me by relationship coaches, sexological bodyworkers, sex workers, and even tarot readers. I love that lifesexplicit includes conventional psychotherapists as well as polyamory coaches, Tantra teachers, sex educators, breathwork facilitators, and more.

 

What’s a dealbreaker for you?

Choosing a therapist or coach is a deeply personal process, and it’s perfectly okay to have high standards (as long as they aren’t limiting you so much that you’re unable to access care you urgently need!). Spend some time thinking about your must-haves and your dealbreakers, so that you can convey that information (if needed) when communicating with a practitioner you’re considering hiring.

For instance, some people might prefer to work with a therapist who has lived experience in queerness, transness, kink, polyamory, etc., while for others, the practitioner’s firsthand experience may not be as important as the types of clients they have worked with and the knowledge they’ve accrued. Some therapists list this type of information on their profile on sites like lifesexplicit, but if they don’t, you can usually ask them about it in an initial consult call.

 

What would “healing” ideally look like for you, and why do you want to heal?

Before I started trauma therapy, I thought a lot about the symptoms I was experiencing – dissociation, conflict avoidance, intermittent panic, etc. – but hardly gave any thought to what the opposite of those symptoms would be: peace, calm, strength, self-sufficiency.

I’m no therapist (not yet, anyway…), but I imagine it’s helpful for them if you can specify your desired outcome – whether that’s something tangible, like preventing a looming divorce, or something more abstract, like feeling confident. It’s always easier to work toward goals when you know what those goals are, and that’s doubly true when another person is helping you achieve those goals.

But consider, too, why you want to heal. There were times, early in my therapy process, when I felt like I was being dragged kicking and screaming to every session (metaphorically), and like I was only working on my issues because it would make me more palatable to the people in my life. This isn’t a useful attitude to take, though, and it’s certainly not an attitude that encourages growth and healing. I needed to figure out the reasons why I wanted to get better, for me. Other people might enjoy the effects of my healing secondhand, but first and foremost, my healing needed to be something I was doing for myself – and once I figured that out, I could reassure myself whenever it got hard, reminding myself of what, exactly, I was fighting for.

 

This post was sponsored by the lovely folks at lifesexplicit! Check out their quizzes, books, resources, and their database of sex-positive providers if you’re looking for a great sex therapist or other sexual health practitioner to speak to/work with. As always, all writing and opinions in this post are my own.

How My DD/lg Kink Helps Me with Internal Family Systems (IFS) Therapy, and Vice-Versa

Kate Sloan

Two of the most important concepts I’ve ever learned in my life both go by an acronym: DD/lg, and IFS.

DD/lg, as you probably know if you’ve been reading this site for a while, stands for daddy dom/little girl roleplay, and it’s been a central part of my sexuality since I was about 23-24 (though there were certainly hints of those inclinations in my behavior and fantasies earlier than that). For those unaware, DD/lg is a specific type of D/s (dominance and submission) involving a nurturing, caretaking dynamic between a sub inhabiting a “little girl” role (that’s me!) and a dom inhabiting the role of a wise, nurturing caretaker (that’s my spouse!).

It has nothing to do with incest or (the way I do it) even the fantasy of incest – it’s rare that my partner and I roleplay as a literal daddy and daughter, since that “taboo” aspect is generally not what turns us on about it. Rather, the safety, caretaking, supportiveness and love involved in this dynamic both turn me on and lessen the factors that turn me off (anxiety, body image issues, depression, etc.), creating a psychological environment in which comfort and arousal can both abound.

IFS, on the other hand, stands for Internal Family Systems, a therapeutic modality for healing trauma. IFS is one of the key tools in my current therapist’s toolbox, which is how I got introduced to it – and I’m incredibly glad I did, because it’s truly one of the only things that has actually felt healing and helpful from all my ~16 years of therapy with various different practitioners.

Instead of encouraging you to “logic your way out of” depression, anxiety, and other trauma responses (as in cognitive-behavioral therapy) or to repeatedly relive your traumas aloud as if simply retelling a story could help you heal from it (as in standard talk therapy), IFS teaches you to see every uncomfortable emotion and outsized reaction as a “part” of yourself, who you can have a dialogue with, as if this “part” was an actual human being. In learning to do this work, you can learn to comfort your parts when they need it, instead of letting them flood you with emotion (or “blend with” you, in IFS parlance) whenever you get triggered.

Every “part” represents an earlier version of you who was frozen in time somewhere along the line due to trauma, so a lot of them talk/think/behave much more like children than like adults. But through IFS, you can learn to more and more often inhabit what the model refers to as the Self, with a capital S – the most evolved, integrated part of yourself, essentially the adult who can do the caretaking within your “internal family system” of traumatized childlike parts.

Because I’m a nerd, I’ve supplemented my IFS work in therapy by reading several books on IFS, so I can understand the model better and apply it more effectively in and out of therapy sessions. (The ones I would recommend are No Bad Parts and You Are the One You’ve Been Waiting For, both by the creator of IFS, Dick Schwartz, as well as Healing the Fragmented Selves of Trauma Survivors by Janina Fisher, another IFS practitioner whose work is more explicitly trauma-focused.)

One of the many things I learned from these books is that dealing with so-called “protectors” or “managers” is a big part of the IFS process. These are parts who take on the role of protecting you from feeling the big, deep, scary feelings that can come up when an “exile” (a young part still holding onto old feelings of sadness, shame, rejection and/or aloneness) gets triggered. Protectors and managers might, for example, cause you to fly into a rage when you feel excluded, because anger feels easier and safer than those more vulnerable emotions; they might push you to drink, do drugs, or self-harm in order to block out the exile’s feelings; they might act as an “inner critic,” insulting you and judging you in the hopes that you won’t get hurt as badly if your confidence stays low.

Learning about protectors and managers has been transformative for me; I can recognize now when these types of parts are triggered in other people, which helps me have compassion for what they’re going through and why they might be acting in seemingly odd or irrational ways. But more importantly, I’ve learned a lot more about myself through this lens, like that the parts of me I’ve often hated most – the parts that can be judgmental, mean, and cold – are really just helpless young parts who started acting that way because they didn’t know how else to protect me from feeling sad, worthless and alone.

That being said, I noticed that many of the session transcripts in the IFS books showed a long process of gaining protectors’ trust, convincing them it’s safe to step down from their roles at least temporarily, before the therapist and client would be able to dialogue more directly with an “exile,” the type of young and vulnerable part they’re actually trying to heal. Dick Schwartz emphasizes again and again in his books that if you try to skip straight to a conversation with an exile before first establishing trust with the parts that protect it, havoc could ensue – such as the protectors forcibly taking over, thinking they have no other recourse. (This is why, for example, someone might storm out of therapy after a session or two, saying angrily that it’ll “never work” or it’s a “waste of time” – that’s a protector stepping in and using anger and “logic” as defensive tools to keep the person from feeling the deep, sad feelings of their exile parts.)

What I noticed, in my own IFS work, was that I didn’t have to work as hard as many other people do to keep my protectors mollified. Often I could just dialogue directly with my little exile, maybe after offering some brief reassurance to one or two protectors who came up. I would find myself thrown into the emotional world of a sad ~six-year-old girl, as if she was right there, just under the surface and eager to be engaged with, instead of locked away in some deeply-buried emotional basement chamber. And because I could commune with my exiles relatively quickly upon getting triggered, my healing work – both the in-the-moment process of soothing hard feelings within myself, and the larger-scale project of easing those burdens permanently – seemed to progress more quickly too.

But why were my parts allowing me such close contact with my exiles, without needing to jump through so many hoops and earn so many parts’ trust beforehand? I think it’s because of my experiences with DD/lg.

(I should clarify here that my therapist and I only started seriously diving into IFS work after about a year and a half of working together. Before that, we’d used IFS concepts here and there, but we didn’t really use the IFS process in earnest all that much until I became more interested in it earlier this year. So, I imagine that feeling comfortable with my therapist, and with accessing difficult feelings generally, has also made IFS easier for me than it might otherwise be. And protector parts may, in some sense, have observed the work I was putting into the process and been more willing to “step aside” because of that.)

I think part of why my protectors would “step down” more easily, allowing me more access to my exiles, was that they’d already seen me engage with younger, more vulnerable parts of myself in ways that were healthy, loving and supportive. Through years of doing DD/lg scenes – and just being in a DD/lg dynamic generally – I’d cultivated a strong sense of my “little self,” the version of myself I inhabit when I’m in “little space.” Dick Schwartz talks about a few different key types of intimacy in his books, including “part-to-part” and “part-to-Self” intimacy, and I think my exile has these types of intimacy not only with my partner (who has taken care of her in many different situations, both in and out of scenes) but also with me.

For instance, for years, when I’ve been having a hard time, I’ve sometimes talked to myself as if I was a parent taking care of a little girl, e.g. “Okay, little one, time to clean your room,” or, “We just have to get through this one work assignment and then we can rest, okay, bbgirl?” Over the years I’ve mostly seen this as me “domming myself,” especially at times when I either didn’t have a dom or my dom was physically not present. But in retrospect, I can see that through those interactions, I was cultivating a connection with younger parts of myself – and that in doing so, those parts may have learned to trust me more, and to trust me sooner, than they otherwise would have.

It’s not that I was always a competent adult in my relations with my little self. There were times when I self-harmed, drank too much, went out with people who treated me badly, etc., in an attempt to block out the seemingly unquellable wailing from within (“No one loves me,” “I’m worthless and stupid,” “There is something wrong with me,” and so on). Part of the work I’ve been doing in IFS is making amends with all my parts for the times I was not there for them in the ways they needed me to be. But I do think I had a better-than-average relationship with my exiles upon beginning IFS work, which has made the process feel easier and less scary.

I think one of the reasons I was drawn to DD/lg in the first place, even if I wasn’t consciously aware of it at the time, was that I had this infinitely sad little girl inside me and dreamed that someday, someone would show up and take care of her so well that it would take her pain away. She would no longer have to wonder if she was loveable, or worthy, or good, because someone wise and strong would tell her so. This is what Dick Schwartz calls the search for a “redeemer” – someone who will permanently end your misery and doubt, someone whose adoration finally proves your value in the world, someone who will love you so hard that it undoes all your trauma in one fell swoop.

But the fact is, that person doesn’t exist – even though my spouse is fucking amazing and loves me better and more deeply than I ever could have expected or hoped. No: the best caretaker for my parts, the one who understands them best, the one who loved them first and will love them last, the one who knows what they need and can give it to them day after day after day – that person is, has only ever been, and will only ever be me.

There are times when that feels hard, or impossible; there are times when that makes me angry or sad, because believing in the illusion of an external “redeemer” was easier and in some ways more comforting. But if DD/lg has taught me anything, it’s that patient love and care can be transformative, and can make more room in your life and mind for not only arousal and excitement, but also for comfort, safety, and a sense of wholeness. And just as I took care of myself in the early days of my DD/lg kink by putting a collar on myself and lovingly bossing myself into doing household tasks, so too can I take care of myself now, by being the “redeemer” I need and deserve.

How I Track & Manage My Chronic Illness Symptoms in a Bullet Journal

Kate Sloan

I’ve long admired bullet journaling as a practice – like the art journaling and planner collage I did as a teen, it’s a way of making the everyday into something visually appealing and memorable. Life itself feels more beautiful, I find, when you document it in a beautiful way.

I was recently hit by a deep and recurring urge to return to this style of creative documentation. But, in particular, I’d been wanting to find a more concrete way of tracking my chronic illness symptoms. In seeking a diagnosis (which I’d been doing for over six years with no luck thus far), it can be helpful to have cold hard numbers to show to a doctor, so they can get a sense of how serious and ongoing the problem is. I’d experimented with symptom-tracking apps, spreadsheets, and digital notes, but had found it difficult to use these consistently enough to gather any real data. It was time for a physical solution.

While I no longer do much writing with an actual pen on actual paper, I’ve known for a long time that it can help unlock things in the mind that would’ve remained unexplored if you’d stayed in a digital medium. There are numerous scientists who have opinions on why this is; there are also cultural commentators, like Tom Hanks and John Mayer in the documentary California Typewriter, with their own views on why physically scrawling or hammering out a piece of writing can feel better and produce better results than digital alternatives. I doubt this is true for everyone, but it’s certainly true for me. All attempts I’ve made to journal on a computer, for example, left me feeling unable to dive as deep emotionally as I tend to when I let my thoughts meander through a notebook on my lap.

So I figured a similar principle might apply for tracking my various symptoms, remedies, ups and downs. I bought a bright yellow Leuchtturm1917 dotted journal (widely considered the best choice for bullet journaling aficionados) and some colored pens and highlighters, and got to work building my setup.

I should say upfront, what I’m doing is a very loose interpretation of what “bullet journaling” actually means. I’ve also pulled a number of ideas from various sources I found through Pinterest. Let’s talk about 3 of the main tools I use in my journal to help track and assuage my chronic illness symptoms:

Habit tracker on weekly spread

Lots of people do a “weekly spread” in their bullet journals, where they lay out the days of the week like a traditional planner, and write their commitments and appointments on the corresponding days. I got inspired by some of the journalers I saw online who were doing habit trackers as part of their weekly spread, so I decided to start doing my own.

Basically this is just a table with a list of habits I want to instill on the Y axis and the days of the week on the X axis. When I successfully do one of the things on my habit list, I fill in the square for that habit on that day. Pretty simple.

However, I continue to find it astonishing how motivating this practice is for me. The satisfaction of coloring in a part of the table and seeing the page get gradually more colorful… The ability to see, at a glance, whether I was good or less good at self-care during a particular week… The ability to triumphantly text my partner a photo of the days when I complete all of my habits… It’s all lovely.

I love that I can change up which habits I’m prioritizing from week to week; for example, if I’m having an active psoriasis flare-up, I’ll add “apply psoriasis lotion” to my habits list. The habits on my current page are: sunshine (get outside/feel the sun on my face), exercise, supplements, reading (at least 20+ minutes; must be a book, not an article or blog post), brush & floss, and intentional joy. That last one is the vaguest, but basically I’d define it as taking some time out of my day to deliberately experience something that makes me happy, whether that’s laughing my ass off at a Netflix comedy special, having a decadent jerk-off session in the afternoon, or cuddling my roommate’s cats while telling them how pretty they are.

I’ve genuinely gotten much better about sticking to these habits since I started tracking them in a journal. Would recommend!

Monthly health notes page

At the start of every month, I divide one page into 3 columns – pain, brain, and miscellaneous – and number the days of the month on the left side of the page. Then I make notes throughout the month about which symptoms I noticed and when.

This is fantastically useful for so many reasons. It gives me a record that a doctor might find useful. It gives me a clearer picture of how my menstrual cycle affects my symptoms. I can cross-reference this page with my habit tracker to see how various habits affect the way I feel.

In fact, I recently did exactly that, when I started having scary heart palpitations a couple days a week or so. I looked at my health notes and my habit tracker and discovered that the days my heart went haywire were all days that I had ingested both caffeine and a red panax ginseng supplement I’d recently started on. I did some research and found out that ginseng is known to increase heart rate for some folks – and of course, so is caffeine. I also found out through research that the antidepressant I’m on, Wellbutrin, increases some users’ sensitivity to caffeine. With all of this information available to me, I was able to make the decision to stop taking the ginseng supplement and limit my caffeine intake going forward. My heart palpitations haven’t returned since I did that.

I also like that the health tracker page gives me a place to brain-dump any random symptoms I might be experiencing that my hypochondriac brain thinks might be perilous. Looking back on this page helps me see that most of the stuff I was worried about turned out to be nothing (or, sometimes, turned out to be anxiety-related).

Self-care bingo

I read about this in a bullet journaling blog post and loved the idea immediately. Self-care is definitely an area where I need as much help as I can get, being a depressed and anxious workaholic prone to destructively high expectations for myself. I liked the thought of “gamifying” my self-care to make me more motivated to actually do it.

At the start of each month, I draw out a 6×6 bingo board and fill in each square with something specific that I want to do to reduce my stress level and increase my joy quotient. Some of the things repeat from month to month because they work consistently for me – like “take a bath” or “no social media for 3 hours” – while some get changed up.

This spread gives me permission to be nice to myself; self-care feels “productive” because I know I get to fill in a little square on my bingo board after I do it. As a person who has often beat herself up for reading or playing video games because those activities “weren’t productive,” I know that I struggle to do things just for the pleasure of doing them; there’s almost always some guilt and/or shame attached to that for me. I’m working on it in therapy (among other things), but until I figure out a better way to deal with that problem, this self-care bingo thing seems like a great stopgap.

 

Have you ever used a bullet journal to track or mitigate your chronic illness symptoms?

Behind the Seams: Colorful Cutie

Kate Sloan

Truth be told, I am getting pretty bored of the clothes that I have with me here in New York. It’s hard to dress yourself out of just a suitcase when you’re a fancy femme with broad tastes!! I’ll be sad when I have to leave next month to go back home and get vaccinated, but at least I’ll be reunited with the vast majority of my wardrobe.

This outfit was yet another fun attempt to re-style some of the basics I have with me into a fresh ‘n’ new ensemble. (Only a certain type of person would consider a hot pink sweater and metallic pink cowboy boots to be “basics,” and I am that type of person…)

I love pink and blue so much. I could truly wear this color combo every day for the rest of my life and be happy.

What I’m wearing:
• Pink cashmere sweater – J. Crew
• Blue and white floral-print dress – H&M
• Black leggings – the Gap
• Pink metallic cowboy boots – Jeffrey Campbell
• Blue sparkly heart necklace – Tarina Tarantino
• Blue/grey/black Coach Willis bag – gift from my love

My old leather jacket was falling apart disastrously from a decade+ of wear, so Matt bought me this new one as a findom present a while ago. It was on sale at Danier and is pretty much the exact same cut as my last jacket, which was also by Danier. God, I am such a Taurus.

I wore this outfit on the first day it was warm enough in New York this year to get away with wearing just a leather jacket instead of a winter coat (or at least the first of such days when I actually went out, something I’m not doing much of!). Despite having been diagnosed with seasonal affective disorder FIFTEEN YEARS AGO – baby’s first mental illness diagnosis, wheee! – I still sometimes forget just how much sunlight or lack thereof can affect my emotional wellbeing and mental functioning.

Gloomy grey days make me sleepy and sad; sunnier days can change my whole outlook. When people ask “What’s your favorite season?” in conversation, I can’t really ever divorce my mental health from any other factors that might affect my answer to this question. Spring has always been my favorite season, because it’s the time of year when I traditionally start feeling functional again after a long, hard winter of apathy and melancholy. Shout-out to my fellow seasonally depressed babes who are feeling similarly these days!

What I’m wearing:
• Red floral-print dress – H&M
• Black leather jacket – Danier (it’s the Winslet style)
• Black leather Frye harness boots
• Black leather clutch with gold chain strap – Coach
• Blue leather heart-ring collar – L’Amour-Propre
• Pat McGrath MatteTrance lipstick in “Elson” – a Valentine’s Day gift from my love

I was having a bad chronic pain day on the day that I interviewed the Bearded Scotsman on the Dildorks, so I had to balance my body’s need for comfort with my need to look somewhat cute while chatting with a total babe on Zoom. What resulted is this outfit, which felt comfy enough to theoretically sleep in (except for the underwire) but still made me feel like a brunette Marilyn Monroe in a boudoir shoot.

I mentioned this Calvin Klein modal nightgown in my recent post on chronic illness-friendly clothing, when I had just ordered it. It’s a slightly more burgundy-leaning red IRL than I had imagined, but I still like it very much. It may not be the most “flattering” garment, whatever the hell that means, but it’s blissfully comfortable, which makes me feel happier in my body and thus more attractive. Would recommend.

What I’m wearing:
• Red modal V-neck nightgown – Calvin Klein Sleepwear
• Pink and red heart-covered lingerie – Agent Provocateur, a Valentine’s Day gift from my love
• Mismatched striped socks, because I was on Zoom so who cares!
• Pat McGrath MatteTrance lipstick in “Elson”

I started envisioning this outfit as soon as the romper and heart necklace were on their way to me, each ordered from different retailers. That used to happen to me a lot more when I was younger and far more invested in clothes/fashion/style than I am now, so it was nice to feel that sensation again, of outfit inspiration striking, in the same way that I can be suddenly inspired to write a blog post or a poem or a song.

As I’ve mentioned before, I love MeUndies rompers dearly – they are divinely comfy, have a flattering cut, and come equipped with pockets. I had some store credit there and wanted to buy another romper, and while they have many fun prints I could’ve gone with, ultimately I opted for this timeless black and white gingham. I like that it equally looks like something an Instagram influencer would wear today or something Jane Russell or Betty Grable would have worn in a movie in 1953. There are truly endless ways to style something like this – yet another reason I’m looking forward to having access to my full wardrobe again!

What I’m wearing:
• Black and white gingham romper – MeUndies
• White and red heart-print socks – the Gap (I ordered a whole bunch of new socks after a few weeks in New York to avoid having to do laundry constantly)
• Red heart-shaped glasses – Zenni (these are still some of my fave glasses I’ve ever owned; I will probably order another pair if they ever break or if my prescription needs to be updated, tbh!)
• Red sparkly heart necklace – Tarina Tarantino, a recent findom present from my love
• “Should’ve” worn red lipstick with this ensemble, but couldn’t be arsed, and that’s okay!

 

What outfits or clothing items of yours have made you happy lately?

How I Found a Kink-Positive, Polyamory-Savvy Therapist

Kate Sloan

A couple months ago, I decided I was tired of carrying around years-old trauma baggage, and wanted to start working through some of it. Blessedly, I also found myself in a stable enough financial position that, for the first time in my life, I could afford to see a therapist whose fees were not handled by the Canadian government. It was time.

I ended up finding a really rad person who is very much equipped to handle the exact problems I intend to work on. But as you may know, that can be super hard to do if you are – like me – queer, kinky, and non-monogamous. Finding a practitioner with a working knowledge of these topics – let alone someone who has lived experience in these communities – is way harder than it should be, as evidenced by the number of people who have said to me, “I’m so jealous! I can’t find a good therapist!” lately when I’ve relayed this news.

So, in the hopes of being helpful, here’s the process I went through to find my current therapist. Best of luck!

Step 1: Figure Out Your Priorities

Granted, when going through times of psychological distress, we don’t always know exactly what is causing the turmoil we feel, or what kinds of approaches might help. But if you have any sense of the therapeutic modality(/ies) you’d like to explore, that’s good to know, as most therapists have particular methodologies they like best and know the most about. I knew, for example, that I wanted someone who knew a lot about the somatic effects of trauma. I knew, too, that cognitive-behavioral therapy hadn’t been particularly helpful for these issues in the past, so I wanted someone who didn’t rely too much on that modality. And I knew I wanted someone who would push me toward actual action and change, instead of just listening to me and affirming my feelings (which is great, but not enough in my case).

I also knew that whoever I chose would have to be reasonably knowledgeable about queerness, kink, and non-monogamy (as those are pivotal parts of the traumas I wanted to examine, and of my life itself), as well as gender (since my partner is nonbinary and many people I love fall under the trans umbrella). These things were non-negotiable because a lot of my roadblocks with previous therapists had come from them having little to no experience with clients in these communities and mostly just asking me, “What do other queer/kinky/polyam people do in your situation?” which, as you can imagine, wasn’t all that useful for me.

Step 2: Filter & Search

There are several websites dedicated to cataloguing therapists who work with various subcultures and marginal communities; Poly-Friendly Professionals is one, for instance, and so is Kink-Friendly Therapy. However, I wasn’t able to find as many practitioners in my geographic area on these sites as I wanted to. (If you live in a large U.S. city, your results might be different.)

After a little Googling, I discovered that PsychologyToday.com lets you search for therapists in your area and filter them by the issues they say they’re best equipped to handle (e.g. trauma), the modalities they use (e.g. somatic), and – best of all, for people like us – the communities they say they’re allied with (e.g. gay, transgender, kinky, non-monogamous). This is a total game-changer.

I narrowed down my search with a few filters and then opened a zillion tabs of different therapists’ pages so I could have a closer look at each of them. Most profiles on the site contain information about the practitioners’ degrees and certifications, how long they’ve been practicing, and what their rates are. This ought to give you a much more specific sense of which people are well-suited to you and which aren’t.

Step 3: Narrow It Down

Because I’m a nerd, I made a spreadsheet on Google Sheets of the top contenders from my PsychologyToday search. Its columns included: name, accreditation(s), rate, modalities, relevant identities (i.e. are they themselves queer/kinky/non-monogamous?), poly competency, trauma competency, and suggested next steps (i.e. whether their profile said they offered an introductory consultation call for new potential clients). This helped me see the bigger picture and eliminate some folks who didn’t seem like an optimal fit for me.

I sent out about 10-15 emails to therapists that fit the specifications I was looking for, and explained the issues I wanted to work on. Then I waited for their responses. Some never answered at all; some told me they weren’t accepting new clients at the moment; some wrote vague emails saying they thought they could handle what I’d asked about, without actually acknowledging the words of what I’d said.

Ultimately, the therapists who stood out to me were the ones whose replies specifically mentioned the issues I’d brought up, and related those issues to their own therapeutic approach(es). I also paid attention to how I felt when reading these emails, because a therapist’s “vibe” can be an important clue as to their potential compatibility with you.

Step 4: Consultations

Most of the therapists I contacted offer a free 15- or 20-minute consultation call (via phone or video chat) so the two of you can get a sense of each other and figure out whether you’ll be a good fit. I scheduled 3 of these calls, with the 3 most promising prospects from my shortlist: therapists who seemed confident they could handle my issues and whose rates were affordable for me.

In those chats, each therapist told me a bit about themselves and how they approach therapy. They allowed me to ask questions about their modalities of choice. I also made sure to ask them about their levels of experience, knowledge, and comfort around kink, queerness, gender, and non-monogamy, because – sadly – writing in your profile that you’re savvy about those things doesn’t necessarily mean that you are. I specifically brought up Daddy Dom/little girl kink in these conversations, because it’s a central part of my life and I know that some people are squicked out by it, so I wanted to make sure it would be okay for me to talk about it. It was also important to me that my new therapist avoid blaming my kinks on my trauma, or stigmatizing/pathologizing my kinks (the world does enough of that already!), so I made sure to mention that specifically.

When I talked to the therapist I ultimately ended up going with, I noticed she was listening to me very closely and would mirror my sentiments back to me in a way that felt very affirming. She also told me that she had lived experience with non-monogamy and non-normative genders, and that she’d worked with kinky clients and had a good understanding of kink but was not kinky herself. It was a mix of these more practical considerations and an overall good vibe that made me decide I should start seeing her.

 

I hope this helps you! Feel free to let me know in the comments if you have any tips of your own for finding therapists who are competent in these areas, or other niches/subcultures.