Guides' Note: This article originally appeared as a post on our Bipolar Disorder Main Forum. Horrified by the story, we asked Wonder, the author, if we could publish it here to a larger audience. Like Wonder, we hope her story prevents others from suffering through a similar situation.
When I first started having symptoms of bipolar disorder, I went to a Christian counselor. I am a Catholic, and my best friend and I hand-picked this counselor especially because she was orthodox and traditional. I didn't want a non-religious counselor, because I thought that was all New-Age and I didn't trust it. The counselor my friend and I chose was a charismatic, but that didn't bother me because my husband and I had been in the Catholic charismatic movement, so I was familiar with it.
First off, I have to say that this article is not about Christian counselors in general, just the one I went to. There are many, many Christian counselors who are ethical, professional, and caring. This one wasn't.
The first tip-off should have been when she seemed more interested in talking about her problems than listening to mine. She also initiated a false intimacy that felt uncomfortable. She said she was making a special quilt for me - that didn't feel right to me, but I didn't know any better. She also pressured me into taking psychiatric drugs when I didn't want to. Right there it should have rung alarm bells, because if she was fully trusting God's healing power, why would she insist that I take drugs?
Anyway, the first really awful thing that happened was when she was trying to pry out a piece of information that I had never, ever, ever, told anybody in my life, and I was crying and trying to protest that I couldn't say it, and she just kept pressuring, pressuring, pressuring me to tell her, and saying "It will be okay," and being so reassuring and comforting that finally I told her ... and then she got up, got the crucifix off the wall, thrust it in front of my face and said, "You think YOU'VE suffered???"
I was so shocked and horrified and felt so GUILTY and DIRTY that I didn't know what to do. I cried all the way home.
The second awful thing that happened was when she learned that I hadn't told my husband I was in counseling. I was so ashamed of the things that were going on in my head that I didn't want to tell him, and didn't think I needed to tell him. But she was shocked, and said as a Christian wife, I had a duty to tell him - and not just tell him, to bring him to the sessions. Again, feeling awful but not knowing any better, I did just what she said. Then things got really terrible. One of the problems I was having was an inability to have sex. I didn't know that lack of sex drive was a symptom of depression. Neither did my husband. Apparently, neither did the counselor. She framed it as a moral issue, and the sessions became centered around her instructions to me on how to be a good Christian wife. In other words, I had to give my husband what he needed. Period.
During all this time, because she was a charismatic Christian, she used part of the sessions to pray over me in tongues while laying on hands. But my symptoms didn't go away.
Then she revealed to me that she had the gift of discernment, which meant she could identify good or evil spirits. She then told me I was possessed by demons. So she asked me if she could arrange an exorcism. Again, trusting her judgment and truly believing in spirits, I told her yes, she should arrange an exorcism. So she got a priest from a very traditional Catholic parish to come to the next session, and he did an exorcism. It wasn't like you see in the movies; it consisted of prayers and anointings with holy water and oil. Afterwards, I thought perhaps all my troubles would be gone.
But my emotional problems - bipolar disorder - were still with me. I still felt awful, and I still couldn't shake it. I went back to her for the next session and told her how terrible I still felt. She then told me that I was still filled with demons, the exorcism hadn't worked, and she had done all she could for me. She refused to see me any more.
Next: I was devastated!
