While going to therapy, you expect some kind of sympathy and understanding from your therapist. But when you clash over and over again, it becomes VERY VERY, hard to try and get better.
I experienced living hell for six months when I saw my new therapist. When I wrote a post a few months ago about how my former therapist wasn’t the best for me, that wasn’t so. But taking the advice of people close to me, I found someone Christian to help me.
The First Mistake
The woman I went to wasn’t a certified therapist. She was a life coach. When I mentioned my OCD she completely ignored it. I thought that was weird, but not that weird. I was seeing someone who focused on Christianity to help get me better so I knew that my OCD would probably get dismissed.
But here’s what I didn’t realize and what she wasn’t competent to realize. My OCD was my main problem. By pretending it was something that would just disappear she was doing a huge injustice.
The Second Mistake
She continued to read me and this bothered me because I never explained myself. She had formulated opinions from the few things I told her about my life. I never told her much. She guessed a lot and assumed a lot also.
She had me do a “forgiveness session”, and in my anxious OCD state, I felt I had to do it otherwise I wouldn’t get better. She told me it would make me feel better. I trusted her. She always mentioned doing this “forgiveness session.” So I booked an appointment to do it. I was going to get everything off my chest. She said nothing I would say would surprise her. I was ready to fully trust her and expose everything I ever hid in my life.
She mixed in her opinions while praying and telling me God was telling me certain things. I believed her because I believed she knew what she was doing. She had me confess to things I didn’t do. The entire time I was scared and confused asking myself about things I had done in the past. She told me I had done the worse and I believed her. I recited the words because I thought I had to. So I did as she asked. “I forgive myself for (whatever she asked me to recite.)
I remember feeling anxious and spilling out my soul to her only to later feel accused and ashamed. I felt okay for a week afterward but I had the worse obsessions. Those things I recited played in my head over and over. I tried to accept that I did those things, but it never stuck. Every day I asked my mom the meaning of words to understand myself. I woke early every morning to pray to God to make the thoughts go away.
I wanted to stay away from certain members of my family and I felt guilty and anxious all the time. Every time I saw my “therapist” I would ball my eyes out and sob and we would get nowhere. She told me that you have to get worse before you get better. I accepted that thought, but thinking about it later it didn’t sound right. Why do I have to get worse to get better? The concept really didn’t make much sense to me but I went along with it being naive.
I prayed more asking God to help me hoping He didn’t think the bad things she told me. I was so guilty, ashamed, and anxious that I confessed everything I ever did to my family. After I sank into a deep depression, I started self-harming. The stupid part is that I kept going to the woman for help. I was scared to talk to God because I felt that He thought so many bad things about me.
“You did this and this and this,” I would hear Him say to me. I was being tortured every day by my own thoughts. I isolated myself from my family almost completely. I cried every single day. I still saw this woman over and over. Even though I was severely depressed she told me no antidepressant would help me. But she recommended prayer, communion, and vitamins instead.
I wanted to stop, but I was told I was resisting. I was fighting change. So I continued to listen to her and try to do better.
Weeks later after my mom threatened to send me to an institute I realize something had to change. I decided to get back on my medicine and see my former therapist again.
When I told my former (current) therapist what I had gone through she was shocked. She and my dad agreed I should NEVER see this woman again. I felt stupid. I had to relieve the hurts and explain everything to my current therapist again.
I was deeply traumatized and the sad part is, the woman who did it doesn’t even know it. She couldn’t help me but she kept trying. I decided to end the sessions with her because I wanted to die. I was planning to end my life. All my dreams and hopes I gave up on. I prayed to God to kill me.
I had never felt that way in my life. I never wanted to see this woman again.
Here’s some advice. Do not go to a Christian therapist unless they know what they are doing. Many Christians do not understand the severeness of mental illness. Telling someone just to pray doesn’t help (and don’t you think I have already done that!)
I just hope the woman doesn’t harm anyone else as she had done to me. I would never wish the experience on anyone.