Sometimes when therapy isn’t working, it’s not you. It’s your therapist.

If you’ve ever walked out of therapy feeling like you were the one keeping it afloat? Like you were the one doing all the heavy lifting while your therapist sat nodding silently or, worse, waiting for you to explain what you needed them to say? You might be doing your therapist’s job.

And you shouldn’t be.

If you’re a neurodivergent adult who’s tried therapy before and walked away feeling more off-dispondent than helped, you are not alone. I hear it all the time: “I felt like I had to educate my therapist just to have a decent conversation. I left more drained than when I walked in and I don’t have anything to work with to move forward.” 

When therapy makes you feel like you have to mask harder, or like you’re the weird one in the room, it reinforces the exact survival strategies you’re trying to unlearn. That’s not just a bad fit—that’s harm dressed up as help. And yeah, that’s demoralizing.

A good therapist—an affirming therapist, not just one with rainbow flair and a directory badge on their website—won’t make you do their job for them. Especially in a place like Georgia, where finding culturally competent care can feel like an impossible undertaking when it’s hard toa therapist to call you back nowadays for an initial consultation. 

You deserve better. You deserve someone who shows up ready to meet you. That means they’ll challenge you when you need it, shift gears when you’re stuck, hand you tools that actually work, and catch patterns you haven’t put into words yet.

Let’s talk about what it looks like when therapy is working. And what it looks like when it’s not.

What Is Your Therapist’s Job, Anyway?

This might seem obvious. But given how many clients I see who have internalized the idea that therapy is just “talking,” or that their therapist is just a paid listener.

Therapy is, talking. That’s not wrong. Sometimes? A session might just be talking, about whatever is on your mind, anything you want. That’s where that idea of therapy as “talking,” comes from. But this part of therapy exists for a very important reason –  it builds something called “rapport” between you and your therapist. Rapport is the foundation of therapy and it helps you know them and trust them so that you will feel safe talking to them about anything you need to when the time comes, which will probably be soon. 

If you’re in therapy for a distressing reason. If you go to therapy because something really intense is going on? You might not spend a lot of time on rapport building because you want to fix what is going on. Right now.  

Your therapist’s job is to build a relationship with you that exists outside your daily relationships and use that relationship along with their training and expertise to help you see patterns, shift stuck dynamics, and make space for you to be you. They use the position’s objectivity to offer perspective. They help you build skills. They mirror back not just what you say, but the structure of how you move through the world. And they do it without judgment, with real curiosity, and with a stake in your growth.

A therapist isn’t just a friendly container for your thoughts. They aren’t there just to hold space. 

They’re there to do something with that space.

If you’re neurodivergent—whether autistic, ADHD, AuDHD, or otherwise wired a little differently—you may have been told your whole life that you’re too much, too sensitive, too analytical, too intense. A good therapist doesn’t pathologize those traits. They help you harness them.

They don’t smile and nod while you circle the drain. They help you get out.

Red Flags: When You’re Doing Their Job

There are subtle and not-so-subtle signs that you are doing the job of a therapist:

• • You find yourself censoring your thoughts to protect them.
  • You consistently have to explain your neurodivergence, your queerness, or your trauma context.
  • You feel like you’re in trouble.
  • They never push back.
  • They tell you what to do instead of helping you figure out what you want to do.
  • They never take responsibility or admit when they missed something or got it wrong.

Most dangerously, you start to feel like you’re in a feedback loop. You’re talking. They’re nodding. And nothing’s really changing.

Frequent complaints I hear from new clients is: “My last therapist just sat there. They never said anything helpful.” Or worse: *”I kept trying to get them to give me something more. But it was like pulling teeth.”

Sometimes, you’re not stuck. They’re stuck. And if they don’t shift their approach, if they leave you holding the entire therapeutic container—you might end up doing the work they should be doing.

And that sucks.

What Therapy Looks Like When It Works

Good therapy is co-created. That doesn’t mean it’s 50/50 all the time—you’re the client, after all—but it does mean there’s real engagement.

A therapist who works well with neurodivergent adults doesn’t expect you to fit into their mold. They tailor the therapy to you. They don’t wait for you to prove you’re struggling; they trust that if you’re here, you’re doing your best and deserve support.

More importantly, they know how to speak your language. Whether that’s through metaphors, pop culture, or blunt truth-telling, they meet you where you are.

They also know that if you’re coming in with executive dysfunction, identity-based trauma, perfectionism, religious trauma, or any number of landmines. 

You’re not here for vibes. You’re here for strategy. You’re here for skill.

What you’re paying for in therapy isn’t just the hour—it’s the years of training, the clinical instincts, the lived experience, and the ability to sit with the parts you usually hide from everyone else without flinching. A good therapist isn’t just a warm body with a license. They’re a whole human with tools, insight, and the guts to help you do hard things on purpose.

Why This Matters (Especially If You’re Neurodivergent)

For neurodivergent folks, therapy is often a minefield. There is a real struggle to find a therapist who understands the lived experience which means you spend half your sessions translating instead of getting help.

An affirming therapist in Georgia—or anywhere—should know better. 

They should know how trauma and neurodivergence intersect. They should understand that if you have to over-explain your experience every week? You’re not in therapy. 

You’re in customer service.

If you’re autistic or ADHD and you’re in therapy, it should feel like the one place you don’t have to mask. If you leave every session more exhausted than when you came in, something’s wrong.

What to Do If You’re Realizing… You’ve Been Doing Their Job

First, breathe.

This is not your fault. 

This isn’t even their fault. 

This just wasn’t the right fit—and that matters. 

The wrong therapist, no matter how well-meaning, can’t meet you where you are. And you deserve someone who can.

Second, consider the following:

• Can I bring this up in session? A good therapist will welcome your feedback.
• Have I already brought it up and nothing changed? That’s data.
• Do I feel consistently seen, supported, and challenged in this space? Therapy should include friction. Not punishment, not judgment, but challenge.

If your answer to those questions makes your gut twist, it might be time to look for someone new. 

Someone who doesn’t need you to educate them about being queer, or neurodivergent, or traumatized. 

Someone who gets it.

Final Thoughts

Therapy isn’t magic. It’s a process. 

But it should be a process where you are the client, and your therapist is doing their job.

If you’re looking for therapy for neurodivergent adults or want to work with an affirming therapist in Georgia, know this: you don’t have to settle for therapy that drains you. 

You deserve support that fits. 

You deserve a therapist who doesn’t make you do their work just to get your needs met.