Man, look, when I first started seeing this therapist, things felt off. Not like “she doesn’t get me” off, more like… weird vibes. I didn’t clock it right away, ya know? Hindsight and all that crap.
How I Started Noticing the Weird Stuff
It wasn’t like she walked in the first session and tried to hold my hand. Nah. Small things piled up.
- Too much sharing about her problems. Like, dude, I’m paying you to hear my junk. Stop telling me about your crappy dating life by week three.
- Boundaries felt flimsy. Sessions ran way over time consistently. Texts between sessions “just checking in” started happening. Felt friendly… then felt clingy.
- Physical stuff got casual. A hug goodbye became standard. Not a quick side-hug, like a full-on, lingering squeeze. Felt super awkward, but hey, maybe she’s just super compassionate? Pfft. Yeah right.
- Comments about my looks. “That shirt really suits you” morphed into “You have a really attractive energy” outta nowhere during session. My internal alarm started buzzing loud.
The Big Freaking Red Flag That Was Unmissable
Then came that session. I was talking about some heavy relationship baggage – feeling vulnerable, ya know? Instead of focusing on me, she leans way forward, looks me dead in the eye, and says something like, “It must be hard feeling lonely. I sense such a strong connection between us.” Her voice was… intimate. Like, not-therapist-like intimate. Chills. Actual chills went down my spine, but not the good kind.
I froze. Straight up deer-in-headlights freeze. My brain short-circuited. This was way beyond inappropriate banter – this felt dangerous. This felt like she was steering the conversation there. Massive. Red. Flag.
How I Got the Hell Out
The rest of that session is a blur. I mumbled something, probably made an excuse to end early, and got the hell outta that office. Felt sick to my stomach. This wasn’t therapeutic. This wasn’t helping. This felt predatory.
Once home, I panicked. Drank some whiskey. Then, I forced myself to act:
- I sent a damn email. Short, blunt: “Our last session made me extremely uncomfortable. I am terminating therapy effective immediately. Do not contact me further.” Copy-Pasted the clinic director’s email too, because screw that noise.
- I blocked her. Phone, email, any possible social media snooping – just blocked. Ain’t taking chances.
- I told my buddy. Needed a witness. Needed someone to say “Holy shit dude, that’s messed up.” Validation felt good and necessary.
Never went back. Never heard back from her directly, which was a relief. Honestly, I should’ve reported her to the licensing board proper, but just cutting ties felt like all the energy I had at the time.
Listen to your gut.
If your therapist is hugging too long, texting too much, sharing wildly inappropriate personal stuff, or making ANY kind of sexual comment, hint, or vibe – RUN. Don’t try to rationalize it. Don’t blame yourself like “Am I misreading this?”. Nope. That’s their job to maintain those walls, not yours. Boundaries exist for a damn good reason. Crossing them ain’t care – it’s exploitation. Pure and simple. Walked out, told someone, blocked her – best damn actions I took.
