He felt like a father to me

My ex-therapist had really bad boundaries. I started working with him at 17, in 2016. My dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer and kicked me out because my mental illness was, as he put it, "making [him] sicker." (dont wanna shittalk him bc the only reason this didnt put me in massive debt was his insurance and inheritance. i probably was making him sicker). It was not feasible to live with my mom due to her abuse. So, I went to a month-long psych program where he worked.

Well, I stayed for two years. At the beginning, he let me sit in his office all day while he wrote notes. He named his daughter after me, and I met her. I also met his sons. And his dog. When I was off unit he'd text me jokes, and I'd text back. If I had urges to self harm we'd talk on the phone for hours, pantomiming dbt skills coaching, while really chatting. He told me he loved me. He said it so much.

That I wasn't just his favorite patient, it was "[his] family, then [me]." I can't even think of all the things he told me.. he'd recommend me books and music. I don't even have a music taste now and I'm literally like reading guides for discovering music bc he banned me from listening to my old music saying it was OCD. and my old books were called OCD too. His likes took over mine. Except when he started getting genx dad radicalized and recommended The Coddling of the American Mind then I stopped taking his recs.

After two years, my dad died. In January. I'd tried to escape my normal ward and ran into the snow in my grippy socks and hospital pajamas. I didn't get far and I was stepped up to inpatient. They didn't let me say my last goodbyes to him because calls weren't allowed after 10pm. He came to the hospital in the middle of night and got escorted out by security. I remember him telling me in the morning. How his hands shook. I wasn't allowed on pass for the funeral. Then staff gave me a razor, and I had to get 83 stitches. I spent months inside on arms length 1:1, 2:1 in the shower. I no longer have any issues being nude in front of others, which is a slight bonus maybe I can join a nudist colony. I got restrained 6 times trying to remove my stitches. The lead psychiatrist said I was the worst patient he ever had - a 19 yr old sick with grief. So they kicked me out.

My dad had only been dead for a few months. All my family was on the other side of the country, but he had me live nearby so we could keep working together. Or maybe that was my choice, I don't know. But I lived in an apartment with a stranger, a carer. I worked long hours at a preschool and had therapy 5 times a week. He was always 45 minutes late, minimum, to therapy, which then went on for several hours, so I had little free time. The hospital was quite a drive away too, this was okay bc the carer introduced me to podcasts (being institutionalized will have you YEARS behind lol). I didn't have any friends or any life. Just him. He'd say "nobody else will ever know you as well as I do." He read my diary.

I loved him so much. That was when I still got to see him in person. He'd hug me. He recorded a reading of my favorite book. He recorded himself singing a song I like from adventure time. He describe revenge fantasies he had for my abusers. I don't know..

I tried to kms and he sent me to a very bad program in another state, so bad I don't even wanna discuss it. They'd assured me I could speak to him while I was there, but it turned out to only be for 15 minute a week. I marked these meetings in red on my phone calendar, and would sob and sob on the phone. After eight months there, I convinced him to let me go somewhere else. There, we could talk for an hour a week. I was raped at that program, and he said he was frustrated, because he wanted me to stop "putting myself in those situations."

I wanted to come back to him so we could meet in person again. He didn't want all the burden of me all on him, so I found a second therapist.

I came back to his state in January 2020. He no longer responded to any text messages, and when I finally asked why he said it was for boundaries. Good job! Yet he required me to respond hastily, or he'd call for a wellness check. He required me to go to the ED every time I self-injured, threatening to quit working with me otherwise. He'd quote Bright Eyes, saying, "you have a choice, to be loved or to be free." And say the only thing keeping me alive was "our relationship." I wanted to keep him so badly, so I complied.

I was constantly in and out of the ED, w my NSSI ramping up drastically from the cycle of white knuckling to binging. Because I had to go to the ED no matter the severity, I cared little for harm-reduction and instead thought "seals broken!" My environment was highly controlled, which accidentally encouraged a scarcity mentality - i was constantly searching for potential ways to injure myself, and jumped at any opportunity to do so. Clearly, I had an issue. I know he wanted to save me and fix me, but his methods were so bad. And now I've done some reading on self-harm, and this response to controlling the cutters environment and forcing them to stop is well documented as counterproductive. Why didn't he know this?

when id try to hide self harm hed tell me impacts him anyway. hed give the example of a partner cheating, saying even if they dont know it still hurts the relationship. i felt so fucking guilty and now i am the stupid attention seeking slut they all accused me of bc i cant help but confess.

This was during COVID, and the ED would keep all the psych patients in an un-ventilated waiting room, not properly distanced (tho even if we were, the lack of ventilation would render it useless), with peoples masks under their noses. I did not want COVID so I'd semi pretend to run away so theyd lock me in a seclusion room lol. Good times. But being restrained a lot was unfortunately very traumatizing so I can no longer wear bracelets.

Things got very dark for awhile after my gf broke up w me. It wasn't so much the romance I was always too depressed for that, but I'd been leaching off their friend group and suddenly I was alone. I had a serious suicide attempt, where I had to be in the ICU. But yk what he said convinced him i needed to go back to resi ? (instead of lloc+revolving inpatient) That I had a one night stand. dont think his control of my sexuality was jealousy, more fatherly control.

I'd tried to die by stealing meds from my friend who like. hoards pills kind of like she j fills scripts and doesnt take them. so he banned me from going to her house. I did anyway. He said that he rly had a problem, bc he loved me too much to stop working w me. he told me he couldnt actually follow thru on the threat. but he kept saying it. im so confused about why it took so long to just LEAVE!

I basically had to apply to resis at that point. I went to a good program. After six months, he let me come home and keep working with him on the condition I'd go back if I self injured or used substances. I had an amazing summer, where my best friend (now spouse) and I started dating. I refrained from self injury, and was genuinely happy.

Then, in September, I cut my leg very lightly. I confessed this to him as I believed he saw how much I changed.

No such luck. He again threatened to leave me if I didn't comply. I went and just stayed in my room and read too many Agatha Christie novels. The program didn't have a psychiatrist, and I failed to get meds ahead of time, so I spent the short month I was there withdrawing.

I moved away from him and in with my partner, so he could not surveil me. I didn't tell him until after we signed the lease.

We kept working together. Even met in person once or twice. He'd repeatedly promised to officiate my wedding, then refused once I actually got engaged because it could compromise his license. Why promise? He'd said that as a way to get me to keep living/go to the programs he wanted me to. Were the other things manipulation attempts? Or is love control?

I'm nonbinary, and while he used my name and said he believed this identity, he refused to help me with top surgery. As a 'fawn' PTSD response, I would dress very sexy and have huuuge push up bras. He knew this. Yet he kept saying "well maybe u want top bc of trauma." I pointed out the discrepancy, and he began to complain "i dont want all this power! why should it be my responsibility? i had another patient pay out of pocket, why don't you do that."

I only ended up firing him because he said of Gazans "they all have to die." I don't wanna distract from this w discussions of the conflict, but he very strongly believed in the complete removal of Palestinians from Palestine. I'd kinda j ignored that, like ugh when I read Conflict is not Abuse I'd censor the title in my diary bc the author discusses a specifically Jewish defense of the Palestinians which he wouldve hated. When he eventually found the book title he said he was unable to read it. but my conscience finally kicked in.

I fired him almost exactly a year ago.. I don't have any psychiatric care anymore. I haven't had any severe self-injury or any suicide attempts since leaving, but I don't know if the treatment did it or if leaving treatment did it.

I don't journal anymore because he was a "completionist" (his words) and refused to let me have anything for myself. No torn pages, no redactions. I don't trust myself.

I was institutionalized between March 2016-November 2022 (sometimes in lloc/home-type environments, sometimes in residential, and sometimes in inpatient, but never out completely). I stopped meeting w him entirely in January 2024.