My therapy was bunkum toward my goals, but not because one of them love-bombed in eye-dropper doses.

Rather my therapists either promised, implied or allowed me to believe their methods would be transformative. (One even snarled "don't you want to stay in therapy to find out why you don't have any friends," when I indeed had friends.) I was a nerdy younger woman who was deferential, childlike and needy long after my childhood expiration date.

Therapy took me in exactly the wrong direction. It habituated subordination to false authority. It reinforced my fears that others had an it-factor, a life wisdom to which I couldn't possibly achieve. It encouraged my emotional striptease before those who exploited it. And it rewarded me for sorrows and victimhood.

It did NOT teach me more social ease or a sense of competence or equality, in fact, just the opposite. Relating to others like I did therapists--expecting comfort for all my suffering and sorrows--did not make me a friend magnet. For a while I lived in a therapy pseudo-world and lost important friends during that period.

Eventually I left, only set back by therapy. I was capable of change, and over years I did change internally and externally, thanks to accomplishments and feedback. But sniffling in a room for therapists was the wrong direction.

My worst experience was at the hands of bullying co-therapists. But in all cases, therapy was regressive, destructive and absolutely wrong for me. I reviewed this years later in my blog below. I can't speak for anyone else, but I do think it important to monitor reactions and be aware therapy consumers.