I Tried to Find a Therapist in Amsterdam — Here’s What Happened

I couldn’t find a therapist.
Not because they weren’t there — but because no one was truly available.
And what I encountered along the way only made things heavier.

Not so long ago, I went through a traumatic experience.

Because I couldn’t really share my story with friends, I eventually went to my GP in Amsterdam and asked for a referral to a therapist who could support me in helping me work through what had happened.

As for that therapist... there isn't much to tell. I never found one.

But…

I did find something else. Something far more valuable to me.
Stay with me — I’ll tell you.

In Amsterdam, you can’t just go to a therapist — at least not if you want the costs to be covered by your health insurance. You need a referral from your GP to a provider who has a contract with your insurer.

But because waiting lists in mental healthcare are generally long (where aren’t they?), and I had already been dealing with my symptoms for a while, my GP referred me to a large private mental health provider with short waiting times.

I was quickly called for an intake.
On the phone, I was asked about my symptoms. But I first wanted to know the costs. If those were too high, why would I even go into my personal story?

“No, that’s not how we work,” I was told. “We always discuss the symptoms first, and only then the costs.”

At that point, I’d already lost trust.
I found myself wondering: am I really supposed to share my most vulnerable experiences with you, while you set conditions on simply telling me the price?

After some back and forth, I was eventually told what the intake alone would cost — an amount that could easily pay for five days on the Turkish Riviera, cocktail in hand. (I briefly considered whether that might actually be more therapeutic.)

In response, I told them what my monthly income is. That was enough for them to end the conversation rather quickly.

Back to the GP.

“Why don’t you look up which therapists nearby have a contract with your insurance”, she suggested. So I did.

There turned out to be an abundance of certified therapists in my area — many of whom also had contracts with my insurer. I went through their websites to get a sense of their approach, but also to check whether they were even accepting new clients. Many clearly stated they weren’t. And quite a few didn’t say.

So I called them. One by one. Top to bottom.
What took me the most time wasn’t the calls themselves, but keeping track of everything in an Excel sheet: who I had contacted, who had answered, and what the outcome was.

The reason those calls didn’t take much time is that there weren’t many actual conversations. Out of the thirteen therapists I called, only one picked up the phone. It quickly became clear why she might have had the time. In her response, she reduced the anxiety attacks I was experiencing to something that could be “practically solved” through a local community centre.

I ended the conversation with: “I don’t think this is a good fit.”

Back to the GP.

She asked for the list I had made of the therapists I had contacted, and I received another referral — again to a large private mental health provider, this time one that did have a contract with my insurance.

Soon after, I was called again for an intake. This one would consist of two sessions: one online, one in person. But first, I had to complete a questionnaire — on short notice.

No problem.

It was supposed to take 45 minutes. It took me an entire morning.
And honestly…
It was heavy.

The questions required me to dig deep into my memory. They were confronting, bringing up painful experiences from the past. I was already in a vulnerable state. Reopening old wounds at that moment wasn’t exactly helpful.

But I pushed through.

Two days later, I had the online intake session. It was scheduled for 30 minutes. It lasted an hour and a half.
What I did experience there — and what I genuinely appreciated — was attention. At several points, I was asked how I was experiencing certain parts of the conversation.

That mattered.

And yet, at the end of that long process, it turned out we were probably not a match. Only then — after the extensive questionnaire and that intense conversation — was I told that the treatment offered was a short-term program of a maximum of eight sessions, within a very structured form of therapy.

That was not what I was looking for.

What I needed was someone willing to listen. Someone who could simply be there. Someone who would take the time. Someone who would listen with genuine attention, without judgement.

I felt disappointed. And, to be honest, also a bit angry. Especially with my GP. Because her referrals didn’t lead to support — they added to my load, in a period where I was already overwhelmed.

At one point, I even found myself wondering whether those expensive intake processes are less about care and more about a business model. For the amount that was charged, I felt like I had done most of the work. And then I thought: wait a minute…

I can’t be the only one running into this. There are therapists everywhere — and still they’re fully booked, with waiting lists of months. Maybe we need to start organizing this differently.

That was the moment I realized I wanted to create the kind of space I had been looking for myself: a space where you’re free to be exactly who you are. Where your experience is acknowledged. Where someone truly listens, without reducing you to a “case”.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who is looking for that.

So, if you feel the need for someone willing to listen — someone you can share your story with — feel free to reach out.

You’re welcome in Amsterdam or in Bagheria (Palermo).

I work from an approach known as the Presence Approach, which is rooted in the work of Dutch care ethicist Andries Baart. I shared more about this approach in another post.

For now, I’m genuinely curious about your experience.

Have you found a therapist who truly feels like the right fit for you?

Because in the end, it’s not the therapy — it’s the connection that makes the difference.

Do you know someone who might relate to this?
Someone who might also be searching for a place where they can truly be heard?
Feel free to share this post with them.
Sometimes it already helps to know you’re not alone.

Photo: Becca Tapert