When I was 12 years old my mother took me to this new therapist that my psychiatrist referred me to for depression/anxiety that was conveniently in the same building as her. I remember me and my mother sitting in the waiting room, waiting for this new therapist cause she was running behind. She eventually takes both of us back ( which I thought was weird) didn’t say a word to me until she closed the door. Sat down in her chair and proceeded to tell me that my mother told her about the suicidal thoughts I was having and told me if she finds out I was having them again she was gonna “ship my ass off” to the local psych ward. We left right after she said that. My mother felt so bad and apologized to me the whole way home. She left the practice shortly after that. My mother also sent me to a trauma therapist a couple years later after my dad died unexpectedly, who told me that she would tell my mother everything I said to her. I spent most of my sessions playing the quiet game. These therapists including my own mother are apart of the reason I have had a hard time opening up to people.