Most Unprofessional Shrink (so far)

When I first started college, I went to our school's psychologist to attempt to deal with childhood trauma issues. Since I was not in immediate danger of any kind, he had to pass me off to another agency – luckily we had an outstanding graduate program in social work and a counseling center where the near-graduation grad-students honed their craft. And, I could afford their $5 per session fee.

At my first session, the counselor announced that given my issues, I needed someone who would be around for a while, but she was so intrigued with my description of my mother that she thought she'd meet with me this one time before her graduation.Great. I'm a curiosity. Umm, how about my reason for being here??

The second counselor was definitely longer-term. However, it became increasingly clear as time went on that anything I wanted to talk about, she wanted to stay far away from. We tried a relaxation exercise since I had great difficulty keying down. Instead of calming me, I immediately started to get a flashback. Rather than discuss it, the whole episode was quickly shunted off as a "let's never do that again."

The kicker, though, was when she began pushing me to be involved in video-taped sessions for her grade. I have serious issues with my image on film or my voice recorded … issues that directly relate to the childhood trauma, which she was aware of. She kept pleading with me that I would be a great case, and besides, this was for her grade. I gave in for a while, but we got very little done in those sessions.

Finally, frustrated and cranky, I decided to skip an appointment. I reasoned it all out, but really I wanted to wake this woman up … that it was time she take what I said, my feelings, seriously for a change. The message on the answering machine was pleasant, but she still obviously missed the point. I skipped the next session as well – highly unlike me. This time when I returned her phone call, she immediately began with: "You're doing so well in school. This is for my grade … don't you want me to do well in school?" A good five minutes of this emotional blackmail. I never went back and I hope her instructor explained the error of her ways to her – I should have reported exactly what happened … but I didn't have the fight in me at the time. -- Anonymous