Therapists Are Confessing That Time A Client Shared a Bit...Too Much

My friends call me the "Therapist Collector" because of how many of these folk I've gone through over the years. It certainly ain't a controversial statement to declare I'm a man full of problems, terrible, nightmarish, life and relationship ruining problems.

I don't run from it. I don't. I understand that maybe, just maybe the way I see the world, the way the world looks at me with judgement, maybe it's deserved. Hey, but that's what the therapist is supposed to sort out, right?

Am I wrong? The world can't be set out against me can it? People looking at me for just walking down the street. I feel their stares, how can I not? They think me some sort of beast on the prowl. Like I'm a thing loose from it cage that they should be weary of.

Sometimes I'll grab a person looking at me crosswise, grab them hard by the shoulders or shirt collar, and scream at them. I know it's not right. I know I need to communicate better, but what are they looking at?

Yeah, I'm unkempt, as you can tell. I'm not one for bathing or trimming or bodily maintenance. Hell, lady, these clothes ain't even mine. Something else I suppose I gotta work on. The other therapists say my clothes look fine, but they're lying.

I can tell when people are lying, ya know? Always had a keen sense for dishonest. I can smell it. I can smell everyone. Even you. You smell good for now. Haha, don't spoil on me like the others!

Why should they care how long my fingernails are? What, these people, these "normal" people have never been scratched before? I get scratched all the time. When you live like me, you get scratched all the time, and that's not a bad thing.

No, I don't think it's a bad thing. I think it builds character. That's what it does. Sleeping and getting scratched all night shouldn't be weird, shouldn't be looked at like these people look at me. You agree, don't you? Just nod yes or no.

These scratches are a mite fresh, as you can tell. Just saw a therapist a few days ago. She... didn't understand me. We have a real connection going. I can smell it.

Haha, I told you my sense of smell was a sharp sense. Trust my nose. I always trust my nose in these situations, and that's where my last therapist lost me. She judged me. Never wanted to listen to what I have to say.

She just judged me the whole time. Whining and whining. She thought I was a monster, just like everyone else. She didn't even bother to think that maybe they're all the real monsters, that she was the worst of them all.

I like you, ya know? You're a good listener. You're a great therapist. Hopefully, you'll stick around a while. I referred to my friends earlier. Mhmm, well my last therapist, well, she eventually became a friend, just like all my other therapists. I'll show you.

That's her back there on the table. See? She smells honest now. Here eyes have no more judgement. She's calm and friendly, just like the others. All my friends are back there, all my former therapists. It's a judgement free zone here! No one cares what I look like or how I act or what I eat and when I eat it! No monsters dwell here, I can assure you that!

Oh, now I recognize I still have some issues to work out. We all do. I'd like to imagine we all do, especially all those other people out there. That's why I'm glad I can talk to you. You're a great therapist, I really mean that. One day, I hope you'll be a great friend, too.

Username: Delicious-Hot-Dog

This is a transcript from one if my buddy's patients.

"I reckon what yousa wantin' to know is why I'm in here. Reckon the reason I'm in here is cause I've killed somebody, mhm. But I reckon what yousa wantin' to know is how come mea killed somebody, so I'll start at the front and tell ye, mhm... I lived out back of my mother and father's place mosta my life in a little old shed that my daddy had built fur me, mhm.

They didn't too much want me up there in the house with the rest of 'em, mhm. So mustley I just sat around out there in the shed and looked at the ground, mhm. I didn't have no floor out there, but I had me a hole dug out to lay down in.

Quilt or two tu put down there, mhm. My father was a hard workin' man most of his life. Not that I can say the same for myself. I mostly just sat around out there in the shed, tinkerin' with a lawn mower or two.

Went to school off and on from time to time, but the children out there, very cruel to me, made quite a bit a sport of me, make fun of me quite a bit. So mostly, I just sat around out there. In the shed. My daddy worked down there at the saw mill, the plainer mill, for an old man named Dixon.

Old man Dixon was very cruel feller. Didn't treat his employees very well, didn't pay 'em too much a wage, didn't pay my daddy too much a wage. Just barely enough to get by on, I reckon, mhm.
But I reckon he got by alright. Hmm. I used to come out, one or the other of 'em. Usually my mother, feed me pretty regular, mhm.

I know he made enough where I could have mustard and biscuits three or four times a week. Mhm. But old man Dixon, he had a boy. His name was Jesse Dixon.

Jesse was really more cruel than his daddy was. He used to make quite a bit a sport with me, when i was down there at the school house. he used to take advantage of little girls there in the neighborhood an' all. He used to say that my mother was a very pretty woman. He said that quite a bit from time to time when I'd be down there at the school house.

Well... I reckon you want me tu get on with it and tell you what happened, so I reckon I'll tell ye. I was sittin' out there in the shed one evening, not doin' too much of nothin', just starrin' at the wall, waitin' on my mother to come out and give me my Bible lesson.

Mhm. Well, I heard a commotion up there in the house. Mhm. So I run up on the screened-in porch to see what was a-goin' on. I looked in the window there and saw my mother layin' on the floor without any clothes on, hmm.

Mhm-hmm. I seen Jesse Dixon layin' on top of her, hmm. He was havin' his way with her. Hmm. Well, I just seen red. I picked up a Kaiser Blade that was sittin' there by the screen door.

Some folks call it a Sling Blade, I call it a Kaiser Blade. It's kindly a wood handle, kind of like an axe handle. With a long blade on it shaped kinda like a bananer. Mhm. Sharp on one edge, and dull on the other.

Mhm. It's what the highway boys use to cut down weeds and whatnot. Well, I went in there, in the house, and I hit Jesse Dixon upside the head with it, knocked him off my mother, mhm. I reckon that didn't quite satisfy me.

So I hit him again with it in the neck, the sharp edge, and just plumb near cut his head off, killed him. My mother she jumped up and started hollerin' "What'd you kill Jesse fur? What'd you kill Jesse fur?"

Well... come to find out I don't think my mother minded what Jesse was a-doin' to her. I reckon that made me madder that what Jesse'd made me. So I take the Kaiser Blade, some folks call it a Sling Blade, I call it a Kaiser Blade, and I hit my mother upside the head with it. Killed her."

Username: [deleted]

I am a foster parent who temporary houses kids. It started one morning when I was using the the bathroom. As soon as I stepped in a begin to smell a very pungent odor. I searched all over the bathroom yet I could find nothing.

Last I looked into the towel closet and found little scraps of toilet paper that looked normal but they smelled awful so I tossed them out. This was happening every single day I could not figure out what was going on.

Fast forward two weeks, one night I hear the foster kid using the restroom which is kind of odd because it is very late. Once he is back in his room I quietly tip-toed to the bathroom to see what he was up to. A very strong odor of poo hit me while I walked in. I knew to look right in the towel closet and there it was, pieces of poo sitting on toilet paper. I was shocked and did not understand why these were in here.

I flushed them and went to speak with the boy in his room. When I opened the door he was sleeping so I figured I would talk to him in the morning. Morning rises he is down stairs eating breakfast, I decide I am going to check the bathroom to see if anything else happened since he was getting ready for school in there and was taking a long long time.

Once I go into the bathroom I check the closet, seems to be fine but I spy his backpack laying there. Kind of odd this was in the bathroom so I decided to open it and take a look. I was not ready for what was in the backpack, there was a t-shirt that seem to be wrapped around something. The t-shirt was slightly moist. As I slowly unwrap it, my mind goes blank with what I see. The t-shirt was hiding a huge collection of poo.

Why, just why is this boy collecting his shit in his backpack and taking it to school with him every single day. Why was the shirt moist? I call downstairs to the child and ask him to come up here. Minutes pass he is no where to be seen. So I start looking around for him.

I find him in his room pulling out from under his bed kitchen paper towels with one piece of shit on each of them. We kind of just stared at each other no words being said. I ask him what the hell is he doing. He says, Paper towels don't stick to it and tear off.

At this point I am super confused, he's been doing this long enough to find a better method of what paper to wrap poo in?

Then I ask him about his backpack. "Why does your backpack have a wet shirt and shit in it" "I don't want it to dry out or be too mushy so I use the shirt with a little water"

Like what the fuck, refuses to really talk about it won't answer the questions I ask him. I had to lock the towel closet because I keep finding shit sitting in there he's drying out to put in his back pack. He started putting them under his bed.

He can no longer have a backpack because he keeps restarting his collection and carrying it everywhere with him. It's crazy I do not know what to do.

EDIT: Hey all just throwing in an update on this. He has started hiding it in between his mattress now we have had to throw out the bed springs along with the mattress.

He had an incident when he came home and found out we got rid of his poo, he angrily looked at us and shit on the floor. Blew me away had no idea what the fuck to do so I just sent him to his room for the rest of the day until dinner.

While at the table we tried to talk to him but he wont acknowledge any subject about the poo collection Seriously was so weird look us dead in the eyes and shit on the floor.

Username: Fatalizzzee

I'm not a therapist, but I have tangled with a couple of people that were in all likelihood a sociopath. They both told me that they hated me because they couldn't find a way to manipulate me. Which was a manipulation in and of itself.

The worst case was when I was in the Army and we couldn't get away from each other, or at least he had only one way to get away from me and what he knew was coming. I got a reputation in the battalion for being good at handling problem soldiers that team chiefs failed to handle.

Usually, it wasn't so much, a young man on his own with no parental supervision for the first time in his life feeling his oats and having problems with the authority that's necessary to any good military force. So, sit him down, ask him what he likes and doesn't like, talk about his decisions, work over his decision making process (which he usually didn't formally have), and then help him with making the right decisions.

It could include everything from interacting with his supervisor at work and being timely to helping the young man sit down and work out a budget so he wasn't constantly broke from doing stupid things. My sister, who is a therapist, said I was practicing Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, which I guess I was, but I was also the last stop for a lot of these young men before their life went to hell for the next year or so.

On to the sociopath...He was actually transferred underneath me after one team chief had a nervous breakdown from dealing with him and another just threw up his hands and said he couldn't take it any more after dealing with him for less than a month. My company First Sergeant told me he was going to arrange for the young man to answer to me, but still work in his MOS, okay.

White guy, married, in the Army for less than six months, I think he may have married his girlfriend from home immediately after he completed training before he wound up at the duty station. His counseling statements told a part of the story, Strong PT scores, but regularly late for formation, constantly combative with his supervisor, would skate the line on insubordination, that was all from negative counseling statements he received before me.

I sat down with this guy and...something wasn't right. I know now that in that first meeting he had mimicked my behavior and speech pattern, but my job was to see if I could recover a useful soldier for the Army. I pointed out that with his counseling statement history that he already had enough to be recommended for non-judicial punishment.

He agreed. I told him that he was to be ready to report to PT formation 30 minutes prior and I would personally see to it that he arrived (standard for me, before I gave them the rope to hang themselves.) The first week, he started probing at me, trying to find my weaknesses. He claimed one day to have diarrhea, I told him he would be reporting to medical call. He called me names, I told him I would recommend for punishment. He sulked. It escalated up and down from there. He kept probing, which I had learned what it was.

Finally, he seemed to calm down, and I thought that maybe the worst was over, he would settle down into the type of man the army needs. He actually invited me to his house for supper, which I agreed to do, and took along another one of "my" soldiers.

I hadn't sat down for three minutes before I heard him yell at his wife and heard the smack of a fist on flesh. I walked into the kitchen and ordered him to leave the house. He told me to leave and I told him that I would be right behind him. He said I couldn't give that order because it was "his" house.

A fight that spilled into the driveway ensued that resulted in the MPs being called in. When the wife was checked, she had signs of having been enduring regular beatings. She was told that she would either file a restraining order against him or she would be removed from the post.

The following day, I sat down with this punk, our company CO, First Sergeant, Platoon Leader, and Platoon Sergeant in what had to be one of the weirdest conversations ever.

He blamed me for the fight, blamed his wife for why he was hitting her, giggled like a maniac when we discussed his behavior with his first team chief, but when he got back around to me he said he hated me because he couldn't find my center, that I didn't have switches that he could throw. It was the last time I was ever in his presence.

We went through the whole stack of counseling statements and had him charged judicially for each and every offense, then included the domestic assault on his wife and the assault on me. All together, we had enough to lock him away in Leavenworth for a few years. I heard he took a plea for 6 months rather than risk trial.

His wife, that poor wretch of a woman, we helped her whatever way we could. Put together enough money to get her and her belongings home. We tried to get her to file for divorce but she said, "He loves me, I know it, he just has trouble showing it." I often wonder just how long it was before he killed her, if things never changed.

Username: sierra3176

I'm currently an intern therapist. But when I was working as a service coordinator at a senior affordable housing center, I encountered the most terrifying client I've ever worked with. And I thought I couldn't see anything scarier after working at a residential treatment center for teens for years.

When I got hired, I knew very little about the client other than she'd been having problems with the apartment management. I was told that I would partly function as a mediator between management and the client (which is not typically how service coordinators work - they're more like case managers to some extent).

All I really knew was that the client - a woman in her mid-70's - was out to get the managers fired, that she had recently moved from a different state, that she had been divorced several times, and that her son wasn't speaking to her.

It didn't take me long to learn more things from other clients - that she could be heard yelling and throwing things in her apartment all evening, that she frequently went for midnight walks to patrol the community and take pictures of yards, vehicles, and decorations that she didn't approve of, and that she could be up all night rearranging furniture in the community room for hours.

There were also weird reports of her telling everyone graphic details about a rape she'd endured years before (during the first dinner she was invited to), telling everyone she kept guns in her apartment and then vaguely threatening residents, attacking another resident with donated loaves of bread that were up for grabs in the community room, calling the cops on me when my registration expired and I didn't immediately renew it, and spreading stories about being cussed out by management for nothing (after all communication had begun to go through me, so they weren't talking anyway).

She'd make reports of other residents breaking rules, which we were obligated to investigate, and then have residents get upset that we were checking up on them almost daily - they felt she was using management to harass them.

When she'd have a falling out with a friend, she'd return borrowed items to them by sticking the items through leaves of plants in their garden, destroying the plant, but effectively returning the item.

At one point, she got into a screaming match with another resident in the parking lot and I had to physically stand between these elderly folks so they didn't start throwing punches. So many residents felt unsafe that we called in as security company - and the woman immediately became best friends with all the secruity guards.

She finally demanded that HUD come in to investigate management - they came, audited our paperwork, interviewed several residents and employees, and witnessed her bursting into a 93-year-old resident's apartment to boss the older woman around and tell her which residents she could be friends with. HUD recommended we evict her and submit reports of her behavior towards other residents to Adult Protective Services.

She got evicted shortly before I left and for weeks, we were terrified that she'd return to make good on her threats. I've since moved to a different state, but I still get freaked out when I see the same model and color of car driving around.

Username: girlfriendinacoma24

> Usually I notice high functioning anti-socials

I can guarantee that in a real world situation, you definitely would have a much harder time than you think. It's easy to confuse a narcissist or even simple stubbornness for similar traits of hard line approaches and argumentative/rationality in debate. I'm being 100% frank here which I never do in any real life situation. (which brings us to your question, clever segue!)

First, let me explain that we absolutely **do have emotion**, anyone claiming they are emotionless are not ASPD. For us it is just a more limited in scope and larger in scale. While I don't have much if any empathy, sadness, regret, I definitely have **extraordinarily** strong emotions (off the scale in comparison to you) - irritation, anger, avarice, self-absorption (or self-pity), self-aggrandizement, extreme competitiveness. None of these are something to be proud of of course.

After diagnosis and some compulsory in-patient treatment (i.e. involuntary), I did a fair amount of introspection to better understand myself. Ultimately this allowed me to accept and maximize being who I am (therapy backfired - fun little paradox right?).

>why do you want to explain your mindset

My biggest motivation is that I get extraordinarily irritated at people claiming they are sociopaths. Usually these people haven't been diagnosed and are using the label as something mysterious or compelling due to popular culture. It is massively cringe worthy and worse still, they don't even have the first clue what it entails. It is a shamefully poor parody version of reality, much like a "I'm so unique that I shop at Hot Topic - a national chain in every mall with mass produced goods for those that are, oh so different". Puke.

This isn't unique to those pretending to ASPD/"sociopath" by the way. Many conditions are wildly misunderstood. The most misused is likely bi-polar (While I'm not BP, I do have mania which is part of it). It's a term so vastly misused I immediately judge someone that uses it almost instantly. "OMG, one minute she's so nice and the next she's flown off the handle! My Mom is so bi-polar!".

NO. Mood swings in that regard have NOTHING to do with BP. It used to be called manic/depressive. A simple description is being on cocaine for once cycle (up) and suicidal-cant-get-out-of-bed for the other cycle (down). Cheerful vs. Angry - no, that is NOT what BP is, that is abjectly ridiculous.

In a way, I am insulted by people posing that they have the "skills" (or "defects" if you want to see them that way) - when they clearly do not and have not the first clue. These people can't read a person or work a room if their life depended on it. The real absurdity is that they're usually the complete opposite - they couldn't win the tiniest influence on their luckiest day.

I'm also prideful / narcissistic / competitive so naturally I want to dwindle the fake competition to their just place. These people don't belong in my lane and never will (regardless if that is good or bad). I don't have to pretend and neither do I have condone those that do. I am simply am who I am - with no effort.

Here's a fun anecdote, prepare to be disgusted with me. I was dating a girl for a couple weeks that turned out to have a very long term boyfriend (5+ years) that recently broke up a week earlier. They were trying to reconcile and I felt he disrespected me by asking her to cancel a date with me. Because I am who I am, I took it as a personal challenge.

I literally called him and told him something surly and cheeky along the lines of "Good luck, I have a REALLY bad habit of winning". Within 30 days, I had her move 5 hours away to me and leave all friends and family. That girl is now my wife (yes, I am married, twice actually - dating is horrifyingly simple). True story.

To me it was unacceptable to lose to someone, regardless of history or collateral damage, I never doubted my winning the perceived challenge. I even waited to her make the first kiss, waited for her ask for me to be exclusive, intimacy, I suppose it was extra trophies to not just win - but humiliate him in the process.

I realize that makes me an asshole to everyone reading this. It's absolutely not that I don't understand the implications from your side of the fence, I just don't have any room for penitence or contrition in my life.

Girl's I date / interact with call it "my magic". (eye-roll). It's not magical, it's auto-pilot. That said, if you decide to cross a line and trigger one of the extreme emotions such as I listed you may just find yourself on the wrong side of the real thing and that is when auto-pilot turns into something much more deliberate.

Username: socionormalpath

Not a therapist but the person was my best friend in high school. Lets call him "C." I didn't even realize this person could be a "sociopath" until we talked about ASPD in my undergrad abnormal psych class. Like I said, totally unqualified to diagnose anyone or anything but the sheer amount of anti-social behavior this kid displayed is eerily similar to the signs/symptoms of someone with ASPD.

My friend was incredibly well-liked in high school. Even most teachers liked him even though he was constantly in trouble for some reason or another. I would attribute his popularity largely to his charisma. For some reason people, myself included, found it impossible to be mad at him when he talked to them. However, this charisma wasn't genuine.

He didn't constantly carry around a charming attitude; he was actually rather arrogant most of the time. His actions seemed more manipulative than inspiring. Whenever confronted with a problem, C would employ some type of gaslighting to make the accuser feel guilty. He somehow always "charmed" his way out of incidents as his parents described. This leads me to my next point...

C and his parents had the most unhealthy relationship I've ever seen in an upper middle-class nuclear family. I can't speak for his early childhood, as I met him at 15, but he was constantly grounded or fighting with his family over some trivial issue. Mostly these fights would stem from him lying over something insignificant and his parents being smart enough to find out about the lie, although usually he was good enough to have them find out way after the fact.

His parents weren't the only ones who he had a problem having a relationship. As far as I know, C hasn't had a relationship last longer than a year, and he typically dates multiple girls each year. Every single relationship I know of broke up because he dumped the girl or because they found out he cheated on them. He also always seemed to blame his infidelity on the girlfriend "being a prude" or some similar reasoning.

The only long term "healthy" relationship I can think of C having is with his friends who he had known since preschool. These friends, who I am still friends with today, have known C for a decade longer than I have, but admit that he has always been the same. The reason I quoted "healthy" is because this group of friends were the only people that C was genuinely close with for an extended period of time without alienating or completely moving on from them.

However, it was far from what most would perceive as a typical friendship. C was by far the most confident and outgoing person in that friend group. Until I met C in high school, C never had a close friend challenge him intellectually. I only say this because he explicitly told me so at one point. I always got the feeling that C kept his group of friends around because it either made him feel superior or they were a means to an end for him.

Like I said, almost everyone loved C, that included his friends parents who would welcome him in as a house guest whenever he wanted. His abuse of their kindness towards the end of high school makes me feel like he was just friends with the group out of convenience. While I could go on all night about the messed up manipulative shit C did to his friends (including me), I don't know if I'll have enough space.

Like I said earlier, C was always "charming his way out of things." This gave him a lot of experience in getting away with disruptive to downright illegal behavior. Like most teenagers, C liked to drink and smoke weed. However, he took it upon himself to start dealing at age 15.

Despite being reckless and willfully taking steps to make getting caught more likely, C never get in trouble with school or the police. The craziest thing was that he never needed to sell weed, his family was very well-off and we all attended private school. He seemed to just enjoy the power that came with having sought after drugs.

Unfortunately for C, his luck and "charm" ran out eventually. When we all went off to college, C quickly began to flunk out. In a small high school it was much easier for C to manipulate teachers to change his grades. C also began selling much harder drugs in college and was eventually arrested and pled down to a misdemeanor.

By the time I returned from school I hardly recognized him. His parents required he go to NA/AA for the various substance abuse issues that had finally been exposed after his arrest. The drugs had done a number on him physically in the year he had been at school (I suspect he was on the harder stuff during senior year of high school too).

Since he dropped out of college - which I believe has been three years now - C has had 4 or 5 different jobs that he seems to move from on a whim. While friends have told me he intends to go back to school, he has still not even completed two full semesters of college and is not currently enrolled (as far as I know via friends who keep in touch with him).

The saddest thing for me is that, from the limited contact I've had with C since his arrest, C doesn't feel ashamed or guilty for throwing his life away. C attended a top college prep school, got into a top business school, and now works barely above minimum wage.

His friends, the same ones he considered himself intellectually superior to, now are off to law school, business school, or working full time for a salary. Despite all of this, my friends say that he is still the same person and doesn't see an issue with how his life has turned out.

Username: uhyuh420

I've had a few bad experiences with psych docs. I've had a really hard life so far. Medical issues have been a constant reality for the last 20 years. In my mid 20s, I decided to try going to therapy.

I went into group therapy as my leading doc thought my isolationist tendencies might be helped with group therapy. I had a lead doc in group. Nice enough guy, but not really taking into consideration my lengthy medical history when prescribing my meds.

At the time, I was taking nortriptaline for my non-ulser dyspepsia, which was curtailing my diet. I was probably 120 lbs at 5'10", so my eating disorder wasn't due to not wanting to eat but my inability to do so without pain.

Anyway, apparently the meds I took for that are also antipsychotics. Who knew? He wanted to up my dose from two pills a day to like... 12. I think something like 100mgs. I was like dude, I can't be taking a fistful of pills with my body the way it is.

My liver and kidneys can't take it. Can't you just give me something else? Aalto, I've been on it for years and, given I'm here taking to a shrink, shit done seem to work. He insisted, so I bounced.

Second was that my usual doc left. I Haden been back for a while so my case was handed off. So here I am, extreme introvert, crippling depression, voices in my head, suicidal, hating the world and the people who fucked my life up being herald as heroes and they pass my of to some super chipper talkative doc.

My first visit with her, where I'm going to try to talk about how I want to drive my car down to SF and jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, and she's telling me her life story. How she has a someone in her life who survived cancer too! ... like everyone else. I kid you not, she talked the ENTIRE hour. Never went back.

When I finally broke down and committed myself, I went to a bona-fide looney bin. Legit - first night in there and there's a woman, in the middle of the night, being drug down the halls yelling at the staff saying they're demonic shape-shifting lizard people.

It was kinda funny, sad, and horrifying at the same time. Anyway, I have a chronic sinus infection. I HAVE to rinse out my nose twice a day with saline solution or else I risk infection from serious shit. They denied me access to medical treatment prescribed my a doctor. Such bs.

The worst, however, was when I was in the pediatric ward shortly after losing my eye. I was depressed, that's for certain. Suicidal, however, I was not (that came later, lol). I just fought to live, why would I want to die after all that?

Horrible nightmares, no friends, lost senses of taste and smell which made eating a chore... it sucked. Had a really abrasive child psych doc.

Didn't really care for her. One day she came in and told me she knew i wanted to kill myself. I was like... um no? She insisted. Apparently, it got so bad of an argument that I demanded she leave and threw my (empty) pee jugs at her.

She had overheard my dad say he wanted to kill himself and thought they were taking about me. I mean, who argues with a dying child and insists they are liars who secretly want to kill themselves? Find a new profession ffs!

Username: thenewestboom

Once so far. Strangely enough a rather skinny, short, 19 year old girl with no prior psychiatric history of any note. By all accounts she had been a perfectly functional young woman, from a healthy, solid upper middle class family, gentle manners, a straight A student in both school and university and never had mental health issues before until roughly two weeks before her parents brought her to us for examination for her increasingly erratic behavior.

I only saw her once or twice in a one on one setting and she had extreme and rapid mood switches that made her have extremely aggressive tendencies. She could sit there completely without movement just to completely tick out the next second. This girl was isolated and locked up in a closed room (we don‘t have a closed setting just secured rooms on each ward.

It‘s part of the concept to keep the setting as open as possible). She destroyed half of the inventory in that room among that a rather sturdy wooden closet and she had basically no control over these impulses. And she got worse on the daily with no medication having any real effect. Even strong sedatives often just seemed to amplify the violent switches.

She was also a wrongful admission as it turned out. She actually had a neurological condition that also made her utter complete nonsense. Her trying to formulate something but ending up sad and visibly frustrated because nothing that came out made any sense was the best state.

The other two were becoming catatonic or violently aggressive. She also had massive trouble retaining any information and asked the same questions over and over again. W

e ended up transferring her to a neurological ward in another clinic after she started showing new symptoms that alarmed our neurologically experienced doctors against massive resistance by the doctors there. When we send her she was catatonic (which was a blessing.

It would have been borderline impossible to transfer her otherwise due to circumstances at the time). The neurologists were initially very dismissive (as we naturally often send people for a standard checkup to make sure it‘s an actual psychiatric issue so a lot end up having nothing of note to a neurologist.

This makes us rather unpopular with them for ‚wasting their time‘)... then she switched and started demolishing their emergency room. According to the nurse that went with the patient they needed 6 adult male nurses to get this small 19 year old that had barely eaten for days fixated.

They took it a whole lot more serious after that and immediately kept her. Last I heard was we were still in time with the transfer but if we had waited even a day or two longer things could have gotten really bad.

Like permanent brain damage kind of bad. Our doctors essentially saved her from becoming a potato or maybe even dying by ignoring the neurologists in the other clinic and insisting to send her there anyway.

I never was as tense on the job as when in the presence of this girl as there was genuinly no way to tell when she would just straight up latch at you with force you‘d think impossible for someone of that stature, no regards for her own safety and with no way to reason with her.

Thankfully it never came to that for me but if it had there would not have been much I could have done but press the panic button and/or retreat behind the closed door as fast as possible until backup from other wards arrived.

With ‚regular‘ aggressive patients there usually at least is some form of pattern there that can be understood and worked with even if you don‘t have all the info yet. This girl (through no fault of her own of course) was completely erratic though with no real pattern to the aggression and on top almost non responsive to sedatives which is what made the whole situation so unpredictable and pretty scary overall.

Username: Lynata

My wife once worked as a counselor for a state agency that dealt with high risk children and families. She would often come home and literally have to scream to me about some of the parents just to deal with it. Seeing kids abused and not being able to do anything about it was terrible for her.

As long as they were following the extremely lax state requirements, they maintained custody and this often meant rent assistance, free cable, free phones, free Christmas and birthday gifts, etc.

Here are a few examples that caused her to have to unload her grief on me.

This father was an abusive alcoholic, mother had died of an overdose and no other family would have anything to do with them. Their apartment had no furniture and a judge finally ordered him to provide some sort of furnishings as a condition of keeping his son out of foster care.

The child slept on the floor and had one blanket and the father said money was the issue, but the state agency would have provided what he needed had he allowed it, but he was an obstinate piece of crap and refused help.

The day of the inspection comes and the man bought many cases of beer and arranged them into a chair for himself, claiming that this qualifies as furnishing. He was spending every penny he had on beer and his son was living on school food and the charity of teachers who knew the situation. The judge later specified the type of furnishings and the case was given to another counselor and never found out what happened.

Another was a mother with 3 children. The mother asked for Christmas gifts but this year the agency had limited funds and would only pay for a single gift per family. After speaking with the children and learning that they don't celebrate Christmas because they don't have money, we decided to give them a Christmas experience like we usually enjoy.

We got a list of presents they wanted and we decided on a budget and went shopping. Christmas eve we delivered the presents as well as a pretty nice dinner that they only needed to heat up (the mother said they have a working stove, oven and microwave).

At the next counseling session the children tell my wife that their mother and her boyfriend of the week took all the gifts and sold them, probably for drugs since that was one of the reasons the state was involved. The kids also didn't get the meal we bought them because the mother "didn't want charity" which is ironic considering they live off of the charity of the taxpayers of the state.

And this last one has made me cry a few times thinking about it over the years. A middle school counselor called my wife to discuss a story this boy had been telling. He had been telling his friends and teachers that one of those TV shows that rebuilds houses for people had done his house.

He told everyone how amazing things were now and how he finally had his own room and such. My wife would perform counseling at the schools so she rescheduled to see him that day.

The boy was so excited to see her and tell her all about his new home and all the amazing things inside of it. My wife listened for a while and let him tell his story. But she knew it wasn't true. She's been counseling him for months at this point

The true story of this kid is that he lived in a mobile home but couldn't get to his room anymore because the floor leading to the back room had collapsed. He slept on the back of the couch (the vertical part) because rats were less likely to crawl on him.

Any food made in the kitchen had to be eaten immediately or roaches and other insects would crawl all over it. The parents simply didn't care and would argue with my wife when questioned about why they hadn't accepted offers for help because there was nothing wrong with how they were living.

The boy was so humiliated by the constant inspections and having other people know how he was living, that he made up this story in hopes of ending the inspections and convincing everyone that things were OK now. These parents had access to quite a bit of assistance and offers of help from several local charity groups, but they refused and forced their child to live like this.

How a counselor can hear stories like these and not recognize that the adults are abusive pieces of sh\*t is hard to understand. Sometimes humans are worthless and it's important to recognize this in order to protect those they are harming.

Username: [deleted]

Licensed counselor here. When I was interning in an outpatient dual-diagnosis facility I had a run-in with a person that had come to our program about 3 months out of prison with impulsive behavior issues prone to violent outbursts, but it was typically verbal aggression in my experience with them.

They threatened another client, which was grounds for immediate discharge from the program but they left before we could tell them so.

We notified police and locked the front door in case they decided to come back as they had also threatened a mother and her young kid outside while waiting for their ride.

So I go to the bathroom which is down the hall from it offices in a big medical office building, and I'm the way back I hear this person coming down the stairs singing agitated and got they are going to give my supervisor a piece of their mind, and maybe something else. The stairs are between me and it offices so... Shit.

I call out to them because we had been working together and had some rapport. Thinking I'd get the other client a head start so they don't mind their scheduled appointment and get locked out with us in the hallway.

I try to calm the person down and they are not having it and super if down the hallway after about 5 minutes, not heeding my advice to take a walk a cool down first. I even offered to walk with them to no avail.

They get to the door and it's locked. They round on me and demand I open the door. I told them we didn't feel safe with them in the office and the door would remain locked. The person gets inches from my face, telling and swearing, but no threats.

I somehow remain calm and reiterate it would be a good idea to take a walk. They then made a vague threat about if we had met on the street, this would have gone differently and stormed off.

It wasn't until I made it back to my desk and took a breath that I realized how terribly that could have gone.

I had no backup, alone in a basement (our offices were the only ones on that floor) with an agitated person prone to violence. I will never forget that experience.

I work in a hospital now with impulsive and violent patients all the time, but there are always at least 3 people on hand to help if needed. That was the most unsafe I have ever been on the job.

Username: SquantoJonesIV

The daughter of a good friend of mine is a psychologist. She worked around 2004 (she does not work there anymore) at detention centers for minors undocumented immigrants caught by the Border Patrol crossing the Rio Grande River illegally in to the USA.

This would cover all people caught along the Rio Grande Valley in Texas. She worked in the Psychology Department. The minor children that were considered mentally unfit were sent to her and separated from the kids that were fine.

She said that the majority of these people were from Central and South America; that only a minority were Mexicans like most people think. She said that these children were disturbed and dangerous.

They would give her the chills. They would make sign languages with their fingers indicating the Mara Salvatruchas which is a gang that has its roots in El Salvador.

She said these kids were freaking scary! Some other children were sexually abused by family or were an offspring resulting from an incestuous behavior. Children with serious issues.

There was this one particular 12 year old Brazilian girl that stuck on her head forever like a burning CD going round and round. She said she could not stand her at all and would give her the creeps but as a professional she had to deal with her because it was her job anyway.

Brazil has a high rate in tourism with the intentions of having sex with children. This little girl belonged to a very poor village in Brazil and was sold by her own parents to a gang related to a child sex ring when she was around 4 or 5 years old.

This little girl spoke about sex 24/7. All she spoke about was oral sex, vaginal sex and anal sex. Sex was her world and her life. She used to tell her in therapy that she had sex with tourists from Great Britain , USA and Canada men all the time.

The little girl was only sold to white men and she said they used to pay in American dollars and that they paid very well. Then somehow from all these years of being in this child sex brothel she managed to escape.

Roaming the streets for days after her escape she found some people that brought her all the way from Brazil to Matamoros, Mexico and dumped her right across the border at Brownsville, Texas.

When the psychologist asked her what was her purpose in the USA the little girl answered her: " I want to marry a wealthy old white US citizen man, get a green card, then he dies and I will be a rich widow!" I get the goose bumps just from writing this!!!

Username: [deleted]

Not me, but a story my father has relayed many times...He was a crisis counselor in San Francisco in the late 70s and early 80s. He dealt with a variety of violent individuals, but few came in violent. Except for this one Vietnam veteran...

The man comes in and draws a big silver pistol with an ivory handle shouting, "I need to speak to a *fucking* counselor!" The receptionist "jumps her fat ass right out the window. I can still see her fat ass struggling out of the window over the shoulder of this man pointing a gun at me."

Because my father was too startled to move in the first place, he was still seated when gunman turned with his weapon and made eye contact.

As my father takes a steadying breath he sees the other clerk he worked with - who he described to me as Radar O'Reilly of the crisis center - calmly take the phone off the hook and press the police extension button, and quietly speak into the receiver.

After informing the man that he was, in fact, a counselor, but could not reasonably assist a patient with a deadly weapon in his face, the man demanded help.

The veteran was informed of his current options; these being he could leave under arrest, but with the caveat that he was under a psychiatric hold and not to be tried as a criminal until such a time as the city could provide counseling which my father would now be in charge of getting started, or he could try to talk down the cops as an armed and apparently dangerous individual, and he now has less than two minutes to decide how he wanted to appear. He chose the counseling and put down the weapon.

When asked about being afraid, my father said of course he was. After the cops left with the patient, my father collapsed into a pile of mildly hysterical nerves from adrenaline and fight or flight hormones surging and crashing.

But he also had a moment of meeting the eyes of a man who - in all likelihood - killed other men and was clearly at a point of being willing to go there again to seek help, and understood that the power over this situation was out of his hands the moment that guy walked in the door.

If the man were to have started shooting, my father probably wouldn't be here. That guy would probably have ultimately died of the police. The only power my father had over anything was the truth, and so delivered it as calmly and as clearly as he was able to.

Another one he tells of was a patient who was known to be very aggressive. My father is 6'2". This man was a head taller with arms like most people's thighs, and he happens to be black.

An "all hands on deck" is called to restrain this one, but he's not yet crossed the line where anybody can actually initiate physical contact. The patient makes eye contact with the doctor.

"Are you afraid of me?" Doctor stammers out of course he isn't. Patient grins, turns on my father. Puffs his chest out and repeats the question.

Without breaking eye contact the response is, "You're a *big* black motherfucker. Yes, I'm afraid of you." The patient laughs and agrees to go "with the only honest man in the room," and de-escalates.

Username: [deleted]

I was a counselor for adults with special needs and I worked at a non-profit that taught life skills to high-functioning adults with special needs.

One guy sticks out in my memory. He'd had an accident and it'd damaged his brain when he was in his late 20's. He went from a promising career, being intelligent, knowing multiple languages, to having problems with his memory, physical disabilities, and a host of other problems.

I'm not sure if he had ASPD before the accident but the accident didn't help.

There was another participant in the program with TBI (traumatic brain injury) that he would literally torment.

The director would put these two together for groups or for "hang out" time because they had similar backgrounds but I think this other person just reminded the guy of what he'd lost.

He'd hide this guy's keys, yell at him, tell him conflicting information to confuse him, lock him out of his room. He never did it in such a way where you could definitively point a finger at him. It was never traceable back to him unless you had extremely wide view of the place.

The guy he targeted was having a rough time. His injury was a lot worse and he'd get easily confused, tired, and just generally check out. He went catatonic several times for upwards of a day because of what this guy was doing.

The running theory from the administration was that he was just angry at his situation and taking it out on this guy. It wasn't anger. It was *way* more calculated than just spasms of frustration.

The amount of thought that went into these schemes and then the way he acted if he got called out was eerie. He genuinely didn't care that he was pushing this other person to a breakdown.

Another staff member and I took him aside at one point and gave him a very strong "off the books" talking to, pointing out that what he was doing was in no way acceptable and that if it didn't stop we'd ensure he got booted from the program.

What struck me most was his reaction when we told him that he was pushing this guy to the point where we were genuinely worried about suicide. No reaction. No defensiveness. Just a flat stare. He understood, he didn't care.

We also found out a few weeks later that he was having a sexual relationship with another program participant. That in and of itself isn't unusual (people in these programs generally get more action than you can imagine) but the nature of his relationship with the other person was.

It was a wildly unhealthy dom/sub type relationship where he basically abused this other person physically and sexually.

At that point most of the clinical staff told the administration that if they didn't expel him that we were going to quit en mass. The director hemmed and hawed for a little while but they found pot in his room and since we technically were a "zero tolerance" program that was the excuse used to get rid of him.

I don't know where he is now but I hope it's somewhere away from anyone who might fall for his BS.

Username: HeloRising

CPS social worker working in a new country. First client I met was a heroin addicted prostitute who was 8 months pregnant with an elderly clients child.

She was homeless and disconnected from her family. The plan was to remove the child and place into foster care immediately and then she would have supervised visits.

The first time I met her she was just such a sad and broken person! The shame was just seeping out of her! I just tried to love her.

I told her what needed to legally happen to protect her baby. She understood and was willing to work with me for her baby to be safe and healthy.

She asked me would she ever be able to have a child she could be a ‘proper’ mum to. I looked at her and I said ‘It will take damn hard work and determination and there will be lots of hoops to jump through but I believe you can do it and I will get you help if you are willing to do it’.

I wasn’t able to contact her again until I got a call from the hospital where she delivered because of her homelessness situation.

I went and saw her. It was a really hard day, she was alone by herself having given birth by herself and I had to take the baby and place in foster care.

I bawled all of the way there, this beautiful innocent child, this beautiful mum who just got messed up and lost in life. What a tragedy.

Add in over the next 2 years of supervised visits, drug rehab, reconnection with her estranged family & new arrangements to live and be supported by them whilst attending rehab, therapy and every single minute of visits she could get with her baby -

I watched that woman turn her life around through sheer will, blood sweat withdrawals tears and lots and lots of mental health support / meds / therapy...

and then I was due to go back to my home country and the last week there I was able to share the privilege of starting the transition plan of her baby coming to live with her at her mums house for shared care, still would be on the CPS register for awhile but the reunification happened, the mums smile was dazzling as she had been gifted through a special program dental work to remove all of her drug damaged teeth and receive dentures... this woman looked like a new woman and she was... and I got to see her be restored to a mum and see her start to believe in herself again....

And honestly every time I think of her I need a minute to cry.

If the only person I was able to help in my career by just loving and supporting her through the process was her it was worth all of the distress and struggle with the other horrendous situations I was continuously exposed to, and volatile people.

Username: pinksultana

I've had a few. I actually just got fully licensed yesterday! Big accomplishment. Anyway, these have been moments experienced when I was still very new to the field. Not so new that I was a student, but new in comparison to a 30 year career.

I previously worked with youth on probation doing a court mandated therapy program. It was either this program or being charged as an adult for their crimes. Intakes were intensive and about 2.5 hours long.

This client was a teenager with one attempted murder, suicidal ideation, and homicidal ideation. His IQ was off the charts smart. He was very manipulative during the intake process. I say that without judgement, just a clinical observation.

His family was very involved in his life, something you don't always see with teens in these situations. I assessed for suicidal ideation/need for hospitalization and we created a safety plan with the parent based on this history of ideation. All ideation was denied at the time of intake.

This was all done via telehealth because we were at the peak of COVID. Policy was to have the client, parent, and clinician sign any documentation created such as the treatment plan or safety plan.

The safety plan was sent via docusign. The family stopped returning contact after that intake was completed. 2 months later I was going through and clearing my unsigned documents from my que.

I did not know that it also notified the party it was sent to once a document is removed from the que of "being signed." The mother responded to that email notification reporting her child was dead. I needed many minutes after reading that message in connection to his safety plan document.

He died 1 month to the day of creating the document that everyone was very involved in, including himself. I remember feeling panic and shock when reading that. I happened to be sitting in group supervision at the time it flashed across my screen.

Even my supervisor was distraught for a few minutes saying "you're too new in your career for somethng this bad to happen, I'm so sorry." He assurred me these events are usually few and far between, but it doesn't make it sting less when it happens.

I was supposed to go to a 3 day summit on suicide prevention that weekend. I couldn't bring myself to go. I know there was nothing different I could have done and have made peace with the experience.

The second was less intense, but still deeply sad. A teen I had been working with for about a year was finally "going there" and talking about her deep pain related to her mother. She had cut ties with her biological mother and was having issues with her step-mother.

She looked me in the eyes sobbing and asked "why can't I get a mom to love me? what's wrong with me?"

Her vulnerability in that moment reminded me of a small child. She has since been doing much better. There was a lot of emotion in the room during that session.

Username: hi17

Used to be in a PhD program with a specialty in forensic and correctional psychology, specifically the treatment of mentally ill offenders.

One of my training sites was a specialty prison unit for suicidal and severely mentally ill (psychotic symptoms) offenders.

I had a client with Borderline Personality Disorder whose primary problem was that he took pride in being as fucked up and outrageous as possible.

As with most BPD clients, he had learned that being over-the-top was how you got attention and your needs met.

I rarely had strong reactions to my clients. I had clients that beheaded their mothers. Sex offenders who claimed no one understood that him and his 13 year old victim were in love.

Violent gang member pimps that threw boiling water on a fellow inmate’s face while he was sleeping after he beat another gang member in a 1v1 fight.

I approach it with the attitude that the past can’t be changed, but hopefully the client can realize, at the least, how these decisions negatively affect them. (With antisocial clients that border psychopathic, you’re not gonna get them to empathize anyway).

Anyway, this particular client had told me multiple stories while clearly waiting in anticipation for me to be shocked and offer him validation with my interest in his past.

Things like how he was a satanist and used to be a contracted mercenary for a mining company in South America and shot a kid out of a tree. I typically redirected him to whatever his current problems were and how to address them.

But one day, he told me how he used to do dog fights and enjoyed it. I don’t know how well I hid it, but I was so instantly angry.

There was a cage separating us, but I distinctly remember thinking that if we were in a open room, I would’ve been tempted to come across and whip his ass.

To me, harming animals is on a different level than humans. It’s most comparable to the desire to harm an infant. But at least with an infant, there’s no getting away from a child. (Not justifying it, but I can at least put myself in that state of mind).

An animal takes almost zero effort to get rid of. To me, it takes a more intentional malice to harm an animal. Not to mention the cowardice.

That was the day I discovered my one button. I did a quick wrap and ended the session about 15 minutes early. I don’t remember how our next sessions went.

But I still get angry thinking about him to this day. All I keep thinking is, “what a giant piece of shit.” If I remember correctly he’s still gonna be in prison for another 15 years or so. Good.

Username: Joshunte

Not a psychologist but I (at the time 20 F) worked as a social worker with people with a mental disability and severe psychological issues, we had studios and apartments and some of the clients lived there together as couples.

This one man (23 years I think) was very clear that he didn’t feel compassion of any kind (it showed and he was diagnosed with a lot of mental illnesses).

However he was in a relationship with another client (that’s a whole other story because why that was aloud I have no idea) and when she pushed his buttons too much he would just loose it. There’s been a day where he was standing with a brick in front of the window where their baby was sleeping.

He was mad at her because she didn’t want to have sex with him and he told us and asked me to tell her she had to. I told him that I will do no such thing and that sex was only okay if they both wanted it. Well the brick near the window is what happened.

Luckily my colleague was near their apartment and ran in and right before he threw the brick my colleague snatched the baby out of the bed and protected it. My colleague had glass had some wounds on his back but luckily the baby was alright.

Another time i got a call from my colleague on the night shift. It was 5 am and he heard yelling and shouting. He asked me to come over as well since he thought it would probably get out of hand (I lived like 5 minutes away from work). I walked in 10 minutes after he called me, and I heard the yelling too.

We walked upstairs towards the studio his now ex girlfriend was staying in with the baby. He punched a hole in the wall (3x6 ft) and the only reason he didn’t come through was because he punched it next to the kitchen and that stopped him.

I called the police and they were there in a minute or 2 since the police station was next to my work. My colleague and I at that point did everything we could to protect his ex and the baby and were trying to get him to leave.

He tried hitting me but my colleague stepped in front of me and used self defense. The client ran when the cops came in. The girl was so scared that when I opened the door I saw she locked herself and the baby in the bathroom.

She was so scared and was crying. To be honest I was scared too. This was a big ass man that was strong as hell so if he wanted to he could really do some damage.

We demanded he would be transferred to a location where they’re more equipped to work with this type of physical violence.

Username: Gingeraffe25

Non-judgment is absolutely crucial, and if I ever do judge a client, it's usually because of something in my own life and I seek supervision or consultation before my next session with them so I can get myself out of the way in our sessions.

However, I do judge the shit out of fellow therapists, professors, and our licensing boards. I went to school with people who absolutely have no business being professionals in this field, but I felt professors went way too easy on us.

I think mostly this is because they view their students from a therapeutic frame of reference, instead of training us up to be great in our field.

So many teachers, program directors and supervisors will shrug things off with the excuse that "we have a great deficit in mental health workers right now." But that is a really terrible way to view it.

When we as mental health professionals work with people we have potential to do great damage and I do not take that lightly.

This may also be because I have worked with a lot of bad therapists. I was working in acute mental health where we would answer a local hotline and go out and respond in the community as needed.

One girl called the line with a panic attack and instead of telling me and my partner to respond to her in the community, my co-worker panicked and called 911.

I kind of lit into her for that and reported her to my supervisor (it was not the first or last incident like this), but despite all of that she still works there today.

Another co-worker was always giving advice to people and telling them what she would do - pro tip: if your therapist is sounding a lot like a friend and saying things like, "Well if I were you..." they are probably a bad therapist.

I also had another therapist who referred a client with suicidal ideation to me because, “I really just do deep work and I’m not comfortable with this amount of instability.”

Basically meaning she only wants clients who are really stable and don’t have any severe problems. She isn’t the only one.

The amount of therapists I know who are deeply uncomfortable with suicidal ideation are in the dozens (a class on suicide evaluation during graduate school is not required, but I did take one as an elective). I have had numerous clients tell me they revealed suicidal ideation and ended up hospitalized or in the ED because their therapist didn’t know how to handle it.

If you are reading this and considering therapy, please don’t let this scare you. But also know that you can ask for a 15 minute phone consult.

Interview the therapist, ask them how they feel about abuse, SI, your criminal history, your LGBTQIA+ status, etc. and if you don’t like their answers please keep looking. If they won’t give you a consult, they may not be worth your time. Your mental health is extremely important, and you are your own best advocate.

Username: running_to_somewhere

I'm not a therapist; I'm a high school teacher. But I have very similar experiences to therapists. Over the years I've had to call CPS multiple times.

Bear in mind that the requirement for calling is pretty steep to begin with, and also that if you call, you are automatically taped and can be called to court. Most teachers don't call unless they legally have to.

CPS is so overwhelmed they almost never do anything. The bar for action on their part is super high, and they always try to 'return' the kids to the house no matter how awful the parent.

Three stories amongst many: I often think of a lovely teen student whose grandmother beat her and her brother while the mother held them down. She wept the day she told me they were forcing her to move to Texas with a distant relative.

"How will my little brother be safe?" was her only worry, since they were NOT removing him, only her, even though he was beaten too. She wanted to stay with a local beloved uncle but because he had only one bedroom, they wouldn't let her.

He offered to sleep on the couch and give her the bedroom but they refused and instead moved her 1000+ miles away to a relative she didn't know. This was about 10 years ago but I still think about her and pray she and her brother are ok.

Another student I had was raped by her father. This was documented in court, and he was thrown in jail. For \*six months\* Then he was \*returned to the family where the mother took him in.\*

The girl was 17. She was terrified. She was told by CPS to "suck it up, because she only had six months till she turned 18 and then she could move out." They told her to "Just lock her bedroom door."

Another boy had half his ear missing. This was because his own family kept about 15 pit bulls for illegally fighting and one had bitten his ear off and they didn't take him to the doctor because they didn't want to get caught.

He often slept in class because the cops were at his house all the time with this or that call for drugs, violence, theft. His house had like 20 people in it, so many he didn't know everyone.

One day he woke up in the middle of the night in his bedroom to find a cop shining a flashlight in his eyes--he told me this like you would tell you woke up to go to the bathroom. CPS was heavily involved in the house but never did a thing.

There are so so many horrible parents out there. If any teen is reading this, please know that you are not alone \*at all\* and that even though there is injustice, what you experience is real and terrible and I 'm so sorry.

Username: [deleted]

My mum is the head of quite a dangerous psychiatric ward. Well I don't really know what she does now, but last time we spoke her job was to meet with people who had been incarcerated, do a full evaluation and then decide if they were fit to go back into society or into her ward. These people had committed horrific crimes, like murder, rape, arson, etc.

The thing is, it's my mum that displayed so many qualities of a sociopath. She's the most manipulative person I have ever come across and incredibly stone cold.

She always said 'once you turn 16, I'll kick you out because legally I'm no longer obliged to support you'

Sure enough, she did. Id seen her cheating on her third husband, so she'd turned everyone against me and kicked me out.

Truthfully, I was too scared to say anything. Now bare in mind I was raised by grandparents and it was only really in my teens I lived with her.

I couldn't live with them because (to add to this longwinded story) my grandad had burned down our home. He was in prison and my Nan was in a refuge (undiagnosed dementia, he was a wonderful man).

So I lived in 'homeless shelters' and I tell you not a place for a 16yr old girl who was ridiculously naive. From huge terrifying pimps to drug addicts broke into my room..

I was always desperate to be in her life and even when I was pregnant and very close to death due to complications my father from another country had to beg her to see me.

I tried to stay in her life but she would find any excuse to keep me away. If she talked to me, she disowned (her favourite word) my brother and vice versa.

Two years a go my Nan passed and a year later my grandad. She didn't attend either funeral or be there for them in their last year. They had raised her children. They were delighted she was away because she'd manipulated every member of her family and if you were no longer 'any use' you were gone.

I finally had my much needed breakdown a few years a go. When my Nan died, I completely lost myself. But I came back and I got therapy.

She was great and when I reached out to my mum, she told me not to. She confessed to me that I'll never get what I want, it's been 15 years. I need to move on.

It's tough knowing your mum didn't love or want you but they're so many people in my life to love, I just can't be sad.

My brother and I are much closer and I've lived in the same country as my dad for 8 years. We have a nice relationship and I'm truly happy here

Username: Jeanieknos

I was an intern during college at a non-profit that worked to keep children with their parents (e.g. We found jobs for mom, administered drug tests for the courts if parents were on probation, and educated parents/did daily home visits).

We were working with a case where there had been extreme abuse by the step dad towards two little boys, a 2 year old and a 6 month old (2 year old was not his son, 6 month old was).

Anyway, kids were removed from the home after mom was found unconscious from a beating and dad had strung up the two year old by his neck on the ceiling fan for punishment because he wouldn't stop crying.

Fast forward, mom has gotten custody back and dad is in jail for 20 years. Kids are about 12 and 10. We hadn't been working with the family for some time and mom calls us and says she needs help and that her 12 year old is violent and out of control.

We ask what is going on, and she says he keeps putting the 10 year old in harms way (telling him to grab something out of the oven with his hands, taking him out in the woods and leaving him there, etc). There's also issues at school with conduct and being mean.

We implement a reward system and let the boys choose their own rewards for every tier they move up. Prizes started small and as they did more chores or went more days without getting in trouble at school the prizes got bigger.

Both boys really wanted to play baseball that Spring, so we told them that if they went a month without getting in trouble at school they could play in the local league.

A month goes by, both of the boys are perfectly behaved and do everything they're asked.

So, we show up with a surprise of baseball equipment, including balls, a bat, gloves, and cleats. Mom is also very excited about the improvement in behavior, so she gets them a 6 week old kitten.

Long story short, the day after we gave them the baseball bat the 12 year old tied up the 10 year old and made him watch him beat the 6 week old kitten to death with the baseball bat.

The kid had no remorse and when his mom came home he was just sitting there watching tv covered in the kittens blood with the 10 year old hysterically crying.

The mom immediately called us and we had to put him in a psych unit, in which he said he was disappointed and thought it would be more fun to kill something than it was.

Last we checked in, he was still in the unit 3 years later with no improvements. Scariest child I've ever met.

Username: seartin

Worked in drug and alcohol treatment for about 5 years on the operations side.

Had a client that came to us that seemed to be a timid nice guy. During his intake he disclosed to us that in his past he would prostitute himself.

Also that he was court mandated to treatment due to him attacking a police officer in a drug induced psychosis, he attempted to grab the officers weapon in a scuffle.

While walking the property one day I found literally 20 hands of bananas in his kitchen. I didn’t think anything of it besides it being a little strange and went about my day.

Later, another client came to us and told us that the banana client was prostituting and was tricking out some of the other guys.

This was when backpage was still around, so it was tasked to me to go on the site and see if I could find any ads involving the banana client.

After sifting through probably about 10 ads with dick picks and learning about cnb torture, I found a picture of banana client with a selfie in our drug and alcohol treatment bathroom with a ad selling his sexual services.

I then had to pull the banana client into the office and confront him with my findings. He didn’t deny it because I had him dead to rights with a photo. He then went on to tell me what the bananas were for.

So, anytime he would start prostituting all he would eat would be bananas. I mean for weeks, nothing but bananas. I’m pretty sure, you can figure out why.

That was just the tip of the iceberg with him. I dealt with hundreds of clients that came through the center over the years and I could pretty much tell who were the guys that acted crazy for attention and who were the ones that I know have done some real dirt in their lives and would do it again in a heart beat.

They would always have a look in their eyes that was almost non-human, they looked at you as if you were a thing and not a person. CEO types on a much smaller scale with drug addictions and violent tendencies.

By the time he kicked him out of the center, he had prostituted at least 3 clients we were aware of. There were also rumors that a client witnessed banana client watching child pornography but upon searching his belongings, I was unable to locate any.

Not sure what he is up to now, but he was one of the clients I think of as being totally bat shit crazy on the inside but you would never know it unless you were around him enough.

Username: Brisketkid

Not a therapist, but I did per diem work for theraputic group homes for at risk youth in eastern Montana. I ended up with some wild stories. But the one that comes to mind first is Apple Juice Kid.

At the place I worked at, kids spent Monday through Friday in school equivalent day programs.

There were three options depending on a kid's progress. One was at the in patient psych center, and one was public school, the third was on the other side of town.

I was helping get kids to their day programs, and one kid, "Berkeley" was refusing breakfast. We were required to have them eat something, or at least a glass of milk or juice before leaving. Berkeley was in the psych center program along with "Dee". T

here was a bus that picked up psych center kids at the Big Lots about 5 minutes drive from the house. If we missed the bus we had to take them ourselves. Berkeley (M, 13ish) was cutting things pretty fine with refusing to eat.

Because the pickup site wasn't far, and still in the same area of town, we'd take any public school kids with us and drop them off after. We had two right then, "Shannon" (F, 13ish), and "Teal" (F, 16ish), Dee is also a girl, about 12.

Normally Berkeley would have had the front seat in the car as the only boy, but Dee was already in it, and we didn't really have time to argue.

Dee had earned front seat privileges for good behavior which I really wanted to foster (she was a long running resident). Berkeley had brought an apple out to eat in the car, and decided to smash it against the window, and found that it makes apple juice.

We tried to make it to the bus, with Berkeley kicking the back of Dee's seat and fighting over the radio. I eventually had to shut it off to resolve the fighting.

Then he started yelling out the car at other cars. I let it slide until he was yelling for people to crash into each other or the cliff we were next to.

This lead to a fight between me and him with power window controls. I won and locked out the window.

I'm not sure if he bashed the apple again, or his head when he realized that, but there was a loud bang and he was yelling at me to "open my fing window", and saying that he would refuse to get out at the psych center.

He got out because I was about ready to get in trouble for dragging him out. Had to write notes for the poor public school kids who were super late because of this.

Username: Lady_Lion_DA

Teacher here, not a therapist, but I try to be a good counselor to my students and not judge them when they bring me their very real problems.

But one time, years ago at my first college teaching job, a student comes in. He’s acting WEIRD. We’re only a month into the class but it’s clear he’s acting weirder than normal.

He keeps getting up and walking around the classroom; he’s using his scarf to keep rubbing his face; he gets up and leaves for ten minutes then comes back and keeps pacing the floor.

He also didn’t bring any supplies with him and I finally tell him that if he’s unprepared for class, and not participating in the lesson, he can leave and return the next class ready to learn.

So I send him an email. I tell him that I’m not trying to be accusatory, and I’m not angry, but that from my perspective he was not sober.

I listed all of the behaviors that made me believe this was the case, and that if he was in fact under any influences, it was completely inappropriate for him to come to class in that state of mind and he will not be doing that again.

I just assumed he was still drunk from the night before, so didn’t think too much of it.

I don’t hear from this guy for three weeks, until he comes in one morning before class starts and asks to talk to me. He tells me that he had in fact been smoking crack everyday.

CRACK. EVERYDAY. and that when he left my class that one morning, it was to get high in the parking lot.

I was very calm and told him thank you for telling me, but then I said, “I know I’m not supposed to judge, but HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW THAT WAS A PROBLEM??”

And I added “and why did you even come back to class?? What was the point in that??” He kind of laughed at my reaction because it wasn’t a mean judgment, just shock.

He said that nobody had called him out on his behaviors before, and it took my emailing him to make him realize he had a problem.

He’d been in rehab the last few weeks and just wanted to let me know that I helped push him into it. I was kind of touched, and glad that I sent that original email.

I also told him he obviously would fail and need to retake the class, and he kind of laughed like “yeah, I figured.” Wild, man.

Username: everdayday

I went to a psych ward when I was 17. I felt safe for the most part but there were some patients that definitely scared me and if it was for the great staff could’ve seriously hurt others and themselves.

A few of the lighter examples was: Patient A: i became close with her (around 16f) and learned that before I got there, and what had landed her in there, she thought she was married to Jesus and all the staff were devils. She had smoked some weed laced with meth and didnt have the best time...

Patient B: this was pretty sad. I think she was around 12-14. Idk how she landed there but I think she had some form of schizophrenia. Idk why she was bald but she was verrrrry quite for the most part and during groups she was pretty calm.

They way she talked in groups made it clear that whatever meds she was on were strongggg. She had some meltdowns mid group seemingly randomly and even walked out to the living area completely nude asking for food or something. The staff quickly threw a towel on her and ushered her away.

Patient c: I think she was 16 or 17 but hard to tell she could’ve been younger. She had a tough upbringing. Idk what happened to her original parents but she had been raised in gang culture and was even a blood.

And if u know the initiation for blood girls... she said she enjoyed it 🤷‍♂️ I saw her on her way out and apparently her foster parents were completely cutting her off from that culture as much as they could for better or worse. She was devistated

Ok here were the three guys that scared me: A 12 year old. Maybe younger. His thing was anger management and depression and I would be surprised if bipolar too when he turns 18.

He would have fits of rage over the smallest thing. You couldn’t tell if they were real either because sometimes he would do it just to scare someone and then laugh right after they take it seriously. If he got too mad he would throw these heavy wooden chairs across the room.

This guy was a lil more chill but just didn’t give a fuck. He was in the room next to me and would be in there most of the time punching the wall. He was probs 13-14

The last guy freaked me out from the moment he walked in. He was a big guy, bigger then my overweight 5’9” self at the time. I didn’t know what his deal was until the days before I left (was in there for like 7 days).

I don’t know how he revealed it but it was pretty casual the way he revealed that he was a socio/psychopath (sorry don’t know the difference). What was a lil cool was his stories of his crazy dares that he did.

One of my faves was him jumping off of very tall one story sportshed onto the the ground for like $10. What was less cool and way more freaky was him casually telling us that he was in there because of a 51 50.

For those that don’t know what that is, in my area and many others that’s the code for a intervention if someone thinks your a danger to yourself or others.

It’s usually for the former and I had never heard it used for the latter. Apparently it wasn’t the first time this guy was in here for threatening to kill homeless people.

Username: Surround_Successful

Not a therapist here but my step sister definitely has some kind of ASPD or borderline disorder. She got kicked out of the house about half a year ago because she refused to do anything with her life or take responsibility for any of her actions.

She was raped as a young child and didn't have a very good mom until her dad married my mom (she wasn't abused or anything, mom was just kind of negligent and childish). The signs start showing when she was diagnosed hypersexualized at age 12. From there it just went downhill.

She collected a massive amount of library fees over 1,000 dollars. She said, "It was the library's fault for not having a security system installed to stop me from stealing them". Few years down the road she got sent to a performing arts school that significantly taxed my parent's schedule.

When her grades started dropping she said it was because she "wanted to go to the public high school" (even though she could have easily just asked to go). Thing started getting worse.

She started burning things in her room, accusing my mom and her dad of doing horrible things (she said my stepdad locked her in a deep freeze for 45 minutes even though that's physically impossible because she would have died in minutes from oxygen deprivation) and generally started devolving and my mom and stepdad had no idea why.

Eventually, she finally had an episode at work where she remembered that she was raped (because PTSD patients black out the trauma sometimes) and everything started getting better for her. She started taking meds more often and started going to therapy and she started to get her life back together. Until the shit hit the fan...

She cried suicide for the first time and ended up in a hospital for a few days. When she got back home my mom and stepdad started setting up some rules for her because she was essentially dead weight around the house.

She really liked the attention she got from the first time she cried suicide she did it again. This time, fewer people started buying into it and the rules got stricter.

And the meltdowns became worse. On her 19th birthday my mom made a mac and cheese dish for her for dinner and when someone had the last bit of leftovers from it she locked herself in a closet and cried the entire night because she wanted sympathy and for people to "oh you poor baby" her.

After that my mom downgraded interaction with her to essential, meaning that she no longer would ask her about her day or strike up a casual conversation with her.

Just stuff like "Hey it's time for work" or "dinner's ready" and that kind of thing. She cried suicide again and after that nobody was buying into it.

My parents set up a date for her to be out of the house by and 3 days before that date she just happened to "go into a suicide trance", and, thinking that she'd be able to sit in her room all day and not contribute to anything, got sent to the hospital again, this time by a *police escort* and stayed there for about a week.

While she was in the hospital that last time my mom and stepdad decided to just kick her out of the house because she was emotionally unstable and dangerous to everyone in the house.

My mom was genuinely afraid that she'd wake up one morning with a knife in her husband's gut, or, even worse, one of the kids gone. A restraining order was put on her and a photo of her was even sent to my high school to make sure that she wouldn't try to contact me there.

I haven't talked to her since and from what I know she's living with her grandma right now (and stole 500 dollars from us that was supposed to pay for therapy).

There's a whole ton of other horror stories with her but I wouldn't even know where to start. That's its own subreddit at this point.

Also...I have another stepsister (my step mom's daughter) that just got kicked out of the house too for very similar reasons. Her dad was alcoholic and pretty much psychotic. I just have less sympathy for her because she talks like a wigger and is popular in school so she didn't have to struggle alone like my other sister did.

I still care about both my sisters and love them unconditionally and want them to get better but it would just be nice to watch my step mom's daughter get her ass handed to her.

Bottom line here: Do not give people like this sympathy. It might be hard, but they are very good at manipulating you.

Instead, try to give them empathy. Instead of "oh you poor baby", try "oh yeah I guess that sucks". They might seem like dicks on the outside but they are struggling on the inside. They are human beings, just like you and I.

Username: [deleted]

I am a therapist in private practice and saw a client just yesterday that I am genuinely scared of. I’ve been ‘put off’ my clients before due to comments or irrational beliefs but I’ve never encountered someone quite like this.

Client is an adult male who I believe to have narcissistic personality disorder based off months of treatment.

Just recently he has become more comfortable in sharing some of his world views that Include the need for population control in line with mass genocide.

He views most people as parasites who only have the agenda to take advantage of others. He disclosed he carries a knife everywhere he goes as he feels it is the only way to kill that is not cowardly and will use when necessary.

He feels he was born in the wrong era and wishes he were born within a time where he could be hired as an assassin or hitman without the fear of being caught.

He has shared he works with the ingredients that can create mustard gas and could easily assemble if he wanted (he’s stated he’s done a lot of research on this).

He would like to go into chemical engineering but recognizes he would be ‘stopped’ by the government if he were to develop something that I could be deemed dangerous and this makes him feel angry and controlled.

He denies urges to hurt anyone in particular however just deems the human race as animalistic and its natural to kill if the opportunity presents itself.

He specially shared he would like to know what it’s like to see the life drain from a humans eyes to ‘know if he can mentally recover from it.’

He has openly expressed an attraction to me where I have had to set strict boundaries but this knowledge has furthered my fears.

Again, he has not expressed the urge to harm anyone in particular so I am totally at a loss as to where or if reporting is an option here.

Duty to warn laws do not apply as the threats are not being made to any particular individual. Any insight is appreciated.

Username: kfaircloth

I am going to preface this by saying that I am a spciopath. I also have an aptitude for psychology/therapy/councilling.

However I will not pursue a career in any field similar to this as I believe my sociopathic tendencies would flare at times and allow me to prey on someone who isn't healthy for my own amusement or personal gain.

Just to give an idea, I'm a man, I stand 6'4". I weigh over 300 pounds (I am fat, but my legs and arms are 70% muscle) so I know I can overpower anyone if I really wanted to.

And I use these facts to my advantage. However, I've gotten good at masking myself. Ask anybody at my workplace, my family, friends, I'm the happiest, friendliest and most caring person.

Which automatically gives me an in. My physical appearance is intimidating, but when I am spoken to, I am overtly friendly and charismatic. Which gives me an in.

This comment is more to give you some kind of insight into the mind of a sociopath. I have been the victim my entire life, literally and exaggeratingly. Terrible parental figures, exclusion, bad teachers, the works.

I use this sob story to lure in victims when I am bored. I will string on the relationship for a few months and do things here or there to reinforce the friendship. Now, I do care for the victims, deeply. So much so that I hurt when they hurt. But I also get great joy from their pain.

And sexual arousal in some cases, especially if there are tears (Quick tidbit, I despise rape, I would never rape someone, but seeing the tears really makes me want to have sex with them).

I have been responsible for 7 suicide attempts via online interactions, but I personally have never meant for it to get that far.

Usually by this point in the "relationship" I genuinely care for the person and would never want that, but after the deed, I feel a great sense of satisfaction knowing that I had someone's life in my fingertips. But, once I hear of this suicide attempt, I grow bored of the person.

This disgusting insect that couldn't commit suicide properly. This stain on my memories that was too stupid to efficiently do what I desire most.

When I meet someone online or in person, I have 7 questions, seemingly meaningless but also odd, but these 7 questions tell me everything I ever need to know if they are answered thruthfully.

They aren't personal or invasive, but they do hint at the person's personality, how they care for others, hints at past traumas, etc. These 7 questions are the trap.

They seem innocent enough, but it gives me the exact thing I need to focus on to manipulate my "big brother" persona into them and bury deep into their heart.

It also tells me the strings I can pull when I feel I need to knock the person down a notch or to strip some of their confidence. I also know not to pull too hard as to drive them away.

Once I am in, I can easily implant fake memories or desires, and they believe them because of the trust I have gained.

If you are asked an odd question, or a question at random, it could simply be just for fun. But if it were me, the answer would tell me everything about you.

I despise humanity, I despise that I am part of humanity. But that part of humanity in me is what holds me at bay. It keeps me from getting worse. It makes me realize how much of am asshole I am, and it is the reason I write this post now.

A lot of the time, someone who doesn't seem helpless or victimized in the long run but still consistently acts like it, you're best not interacting with them.

Username: HatredIsNatural

I can share a patient experience. I got insanely drunk one night and my crazy got away from me and I did some stupid shit.

I woke up around 4pm the next day and after a quick shower I barely had time to dress before the knock on my door. Local mental health crisis intervention team.

4 police officers, one of them a trained mental health professional, and what seemed like half the force waiting in the bushes in case I got out of hand.

Now I probably deserved to be arrested and given a court appearance for what I did, but they decided to drag me off to the psych ward instead. I spent three days sleeping on a stretcher in the intake office because there were no beds anywhere in the city.

I was no longer drunk, and although I had the worst hangover in my life, and I was going through an incredibly difficult time in my personal life, I was no danger to anyone.

Because of the situation I found myself in, I was very desperate to go home. I begged and pleaded to go home and promised to go to outpatient treatment.

A promise I would have very much kept. I explained in no uncertain terms that being there against my will was the worst place they could put me for my mental health. They refused.

For the few days I was on a stretcher in intake there were a couple other patients sleeping on stretchers. One was a suicidal girl who checked herself in.

After three days of me begging to go home, they found a bed for me at another hospital. Two minutes later they tell the suicidal girl that she has to go home because they don't have room for her in the city.

I sat there and listened to her call her mother on the cell phone for a ride home and all I can hear from the other end of the line is the mother screaming at her daughter for checking herself out and not getting the treatment she promised she would seek.

The poor girl just sat there crying. What I wanted more than anything at the time was to get away from that horribly oppressive place that cast such a weight on my sanity that I can scarce imagine how anyone could be subjected to such indignation and expected to retain their cognitive functions.

In the end I spent close to a month in the psych ward. After a couple of weeks they showed up with a piece of paper they claimed was a court order allowing them to force me to take drugs.

Told me if I didn't take the drugs they would hold me down and inject me with them. I took their drugs and left a week later. I continued to try the drugs for a month or two for the sake of my ex, who had moved out while I was in the hospital and I wanted her back.

She ended up dumping me and I stopped taking the pills, which literally did nothing for me except make me tired. In the end, the only thing to come out of the stay was a life experience that will scar me and the understanding that you never, never seek help or open up to a mental health professional.

Ever. You are not a person to them, you are a condition, and the things that come out of your mouth are not words, but rather products of said condition. I hope that girl is alright. She really needed some help.

Username: Jopono