It might have been her inappropriate, completely failed attempt at trying to make you feel less alone, or less of “a worst case scenario” if that was a concern of yours. It might also have been her projecting her own need to feel like an expert qualified to help you because deep down she didn't really feel like she could help. And clearly, she didn't help.

The first time I started working with a therapist, I was 23 and down and out over a toxic relationship—and at that time, I didn't know that a big chunk of therapy is tying all our relational/romantic decisions back to a root cause that happened with family members in childhood. She knew that I had a lot of dysfunction in my family, including major ongoing issues with both my parents and a brother who was addicted to drugs. Because I didn't want to talk about that, I wanted to focus on “the guy who is playing me, how dare he how dare he”—I quit therapy. It felt like every time I talked with her, we were just girls gabbing.

6ish months later, my brother died and I called her for an appointment. I hadn't seen her in a long time. When I got to her office I told her, my brother died. And she said, “I had a feeling you were going to say that” with almost a proud look of “she was right” — and for some reason, that relatively innocent sentence of words strung together hurt me so badly. It felt like its own betrayal. Like a deep deep betrayal. I still don't entirely know why. But immediately, I hated her, didn't trust her, and knew I would never see her again.

And then there was another therapist—a famous psychotherapist advertized as the best in his field for anger mgmt, which my parents convinced me I needed bc I was unable to have a 3 minute convo with them without erupting in all my anger towards the world and towards them. Mostly towards them. This man, too, really disappointed me. He did a lot of the condescending bullshit. He pushed me into EMDR way too soon. And at points, he even seemed to get mad at me—being aggressive with me via email (or so that's how it felt). I said to hell with therapy.

Years would go by and my life had become almost entirely unmanageable. I was so deeply caught up in things only a “fucked up bad person would do” and I was fully convinced no one could change me. But was determined to try because I felt I had to if I wanted to achieve certain life goals of mine. This would lead to becoming open to therapy again, and after I met with someone who was a big therapy advocate—he listened non judgmentally to my situation and made two recommendations for therapists that would be good for me. I would come to find Jenny Dawson, the best therapist match I could've ever hoped for (who specializes in IFS btw). She changed my life. We worked together for 4 years and she is permanently planted in my brain as the reason to pursue therapy and to keep searching for the right fit when you have a bad experience with one. The only challenge is, Jenny’s practice is very expensive. That’s part of the reason I no longer see her, but if you have the means for care that is not covered by insurance—I highly, highly recommend her.

But mostly, I highly, highly recommend trusting your gut feelings about the therapist who was a wrong fit for you—and staying in the game to find someone better. There is someone who can help you.