I spent several years, (usually once a week, sometimes less often) talking with a psychotherapist who was also a psychiatrist. It was immensely helpful, mysterious at times, excruciatingly hard work, and ultimately very satisfying.
I started out with my vague issue about lower back pains; he laughed when I mentioned that at our first session, and then we were off. I dealth with my father’s suicide, my rage at my mother, the unexpected death of a close relative, the alienation of me from my sister and mother for a while, a divorce, a reconciliation with my sister and mother and finally, after five years, the sense that I had finished what I started.
I couldn’t tell you exactly what happened or how it did. But I was lucky in the therapist. He fit my job description; close to my age, smarter than me and Jewish. We had had the same experiences, I was not going to be able to outfox him, and we came from the identical background.
(Being an MD, he also prescribed some antidepressants from time to time.)