What to Look for In a Trauma Therapist (4-Video Compilation)

For a person burdened by psychological trauma, seeking support from the wrong people while trying to heal from childhood wounds can feel deeply unsettling and unfamiliar.

A therapist, coach, or helper who is a poor match—or who behaves unethically—can actually reactivate trauma, make symptoms worse, and leave your life unchanged. You may have had the experience of showing up every week, working hard, and still wondering, “Why am I still so sad and helpless? Why hasn’t anything improved?” I’m the person some know as “the crappy childhood fairy,” and in this edition of Ask the Fairy I want to share a letter from a woman I’ll call Carmen. I picked her message because many people have stayed with therapists who didn’t help them. Here’s her note: Hi—over the last year I’ve been in therapy with a counselor I thought could help me heal and regain my life, but warning signs started showing up and I noticed setbacks. Some of their comments made me uncomfortable: saying she’d miss me until our next session, complimenting my dress and implying I wore it for her; inviting me to do running sessions while trying EMDR, which felt odd. She was usually friendly, but at our last visit she seemed distracted. I asked if she was okay—understandably she didn’t want to disclose personal issues to a client—but she looked mentally elsewhere, kept peering out the window while we talked, and was distant in a way she hadn’t been before. It stirred memories of being seven and feeling my mother was always upset with me for no reason—afraid, rejected, confused, untrusting. I understand transference and countertransference can affect the therapeutic relationship, but a therapist needs to recognize the harm this causes and either adjust or make a referral. I no longer feel safe; the compliments feel strange. I had ignored some of this before, but paired with other behavior she now seems volatile and unstable. I think I need to find a new therapist. What do you think? Note: I’m going to graduate school to be a therapist and will work in behavioral health; I would never act like she does because I understand ethical boundaries and want to be mentally fit before becoming a helping professional. Please help. Thanks, Carmen. Thank you, Carmen—this is a powerful letter and a perfect chance to talk about “crap fit.”
For those unfamiliar with this phrase, I coined “crap fit” to describe how people who grew up with abuse or neglect can become extremely good at adapting to a person or situation that is actually inappropriate. Your bodily and relational instincts go into survival mode, and you learn how to fit—even into harmful places. The key point I want to make first is simple: if you’ve lost trust because of boundary violations, it’s time to leave. It may also be appropriate to file a report. Some of what you described might not be reportable in a legal sense, but it’s certainly made you feel weird and unsafe—and you already said you feel like you need to change therapists. So let me unpack how to notice when someone is simply not a good fit.
First: they seem uninterested in you and can’t remember the details of your life or what you said last week. That’s an easy marker. Part of what you pay for in therapy is a person who attends to who you are and what you’re struggling with now. If they’re too distracted, overwhelmed, or checked out to do that, it’s a clear sign you haven’t found the right person.
Second: they encourage a dependence on them that leaves you feeling increasingly helpless—like a child clinging to a parent. There’s a kind of attachment dynamic that can be constructive when it’s healthy: you can enter and exit roles, notice when you feel like the child, and regain agency. But if the relationship makes you stuck in that child role, feeling more powerless than before, that’s likely not a good fit.
Third: they feed your anger rather than helping you move beyond it. Anger often feels empowering at first and can provide relief from deep sadness or shame, and regrettably some clinicians are good at stoking that rage because it’s an easy emotional outlet. But expression of anger alone, without integration and a pathway toward letting go, doesn’t make for durable healing. Unchecked rage can be energizing but ultimately keeps you stuck. Find clinicians who can not only help you access strong emotions but also help you process and release them so you can pursue the life you want with less reactivity.
Fourth: they tell you the reason you’re not improving after many sessions is simply that “it will take a long time.” While long-term healing is a real thing, therapy should also deliver some relief—small, concrete, tangible steps forward you can feel. If every session crushes you and leaves you worse off, regardless of promises about distant gains, that’s a sign the approach isn’t helping. Look for a therapist who blends long-term strategies with short-term, practical tools to help you remain stable while you do the deeper work.
Fifth: they promote ideas about healing that just don’t feel right to you. Therapists come from different schools and philosophies, but you need to stay the expert on your own recovery. If something feels wrong—unsafe or manipulative—trust that intuition. A mismatch in worldview or method can mean the clinician isn’t right for you, even if they’re technically skilled.
Sixth: they treat your trauma history as if it’s a spectacle—glorifying or mining your suffering in a way that feels like they’re feeding off your story. I call this trauma porn or, more bluntly, “trauma-pornography.” When a practitioner seems to take satisfaction from your worst moments—encouraging you to unspool every horrific detail to “get somewhere”—it’s harmful. Trauma processing has a place for telling stories, but healing requires also building new, positive narratives about where you’re going, safety strategies, and practices that calm symptoms day by day.
Seventh: if multiple people in your life tell you they’re worried about the therapy you’re doing, that’s a red flag. Sometimes friends and family are unhelpful or undermining, so you’ll need to differentiate between real concern and “careful sabotage.” But when people you trust hear the description of the therapist’s methods and respond with alarm, pay attention. If you find yourself hiding what you’re doing or feeling ashamed to describe it because you fear judgment, that avoidance itself is telling.
Another major sign: you feel misdiagnosed or pigeonholed. The real world of clinical diagnoses is messy—different clinicians see different things—and a wrong label can matter. If you’re being told you have a condition that doesn’t fit your experience (for example someone insisting you have DID without evidence), that’s a big red flag. Trust your skepticism and get a second opinion.
Also be cautious if the therapy is mostly talk with no real strategies or suggestions for concrete change. Problems of life require both exploratory talk and actionable steps. Seek clinicians who propose practical interventions and homework—people who both listen well and suggest things you can try between sessions.
A final, comprehensive test: ask yourself, “Do I feel understood?” Many people in life don’t understand us at all; a few get us partially; one or two sometimes truly “see” us. The best therapist for you will come close to that scale of understanding. If you go week after week feeling misunderstood, misread, judged, misdiagnosed, or ignored—then it’s time to move on. Don’t abandon your healing, but keep looking for a better match.
A note on therapists: they can be miraculous for some people. It’s tempting, after a breakthrough, to put them on a pedestal and tie your recovery to that person—don’t. If a therapist betrays you or fails you, you don’t want your healing identity to be irretrievably attached to them. Recovery is something you own. Therapists are human, they make mistakes, and although licensure implies adherence to high ethical standards, breaches do occur. Sometimes a therapist will violate a client’s trust in clear ways.
That brings me to another letter I received, from a woman I’ll call Susan. Her sister began seeing Susan’s former therapist—and then developed a romantic and sexual relationship with him. That betrayal has shaken Susan’s marriage and her sense of safety. Here’s her story in brief: Susan had seen a therapist for many years for complex trauma, including sexual abuse. That therapy helped her heal significantly; she met and married a loving, emotionally stable man and built a healthy marriage. About a year ago, her sister began seeing the same therapist. Susan felt uncomfortable: she didn’t want her sister knowing the details of what she’d already shared in therapy. Her sister is manipulative, verbally abusive, and emotionally unsafe—and just knowing she was in that therapist’s office unsettled Susan. Her instincts proved right: the sister entered into an emotional affair and then a physical relationship with the therapist for months. When Susan learned, she was devastated—she cried and felt like a child. After the revelation, her sister repeatedly contacted and emotionally overwhelmed her, then accused Susan of being selfish for not being the person she could “process everything with.” Her sister divorced her husband after the affair, and despite the therapist cutting contact, she left her stable home and family. The sister blamed Susan for being unsupportive and called her selfish for setting boundaries. Susan says she has blocked her sister on phone and social media because the sister won’t stop talking about the therapist or the affair. Their mother married four times, so Susan’s fear that she’ll end up unable to maintain a marriage runs deep. Susan loves her husband and wants to stay married, but after the betrayal she finds herself threatening divorce in the heat of fights—a coping mechanism she feels ashamed of and wants to stop. She’s confused why this trauma replay with her sister impacts her marriage so profoundly. She wants to understand and stop acting out on her marriage. Susan, thank you for the letter. I applaud your goal of protecting your marriage and stopping the cycle of threatening divorce as a response. Let’s unpack what’s happening.
You saw a therapist for years who helped you heal from intimate trauma and complex childhood adversity; you built a loving marriage and that was a big win. When your sister told you she was seeing the same therapist, you felt uneasy—and rightly so. Boundaries matter. You did well recognizing those limits. Your sister’s behavior—manipulative, verbally abusive, emotionally unsafe—was a legitimate source of stress. What happened next was clearly unethical: the therapist formed an affair with your sister, which is a grave professional breach. That therapist’s behavior is unacceptable and reportable. You can, if you choose, file a complaint and potentially affect the clinician’s license. That said, there’s a complicated truth: sometimes the person who helps can be the one who’s chaotic or boundary-poor. In your case, your therapist apparently comforted you and helped you make deep gains—yet also showed a capacity to fall into chaotic behavior. That’s painful and confusing, but it doesn’t erase your progress. Remember that you are the one who did the healing work. A therapist can help, but recovery lives in you. When a healer fails, your healing remains yours if you claim it.
Now, why is this affecting your marriage? My guess is that part of your sense of safety in relationships was built on the therapist being a reliable adult figure. When that adult proved fallible and even predatory, it shakes your hard-won trust. You were terrified you might lose your marriage or that the old family patterns (e.g., your mother’s four marriages) prefigure a fate for you both. It’s natural that your stress response flares—sometimes into fight mode, sometimes into a desperate urge to flee—and you may find yourself issuing divorce threats in the heat of those moments. That’s often an attempt to create distance and regain control when you feel overwhelmed.
Here are practical steps you can take. First, prioritize your marriage. It sounds like your husband is a stable, good partner—protect that. Give yourself permission to step away from your sister for as long as you need; blocking her was a reasonable and healthy choice if she continued to violate your boundaries. Space may need to be long-term. If she demonstrates real change down the line and proves she can respect you, you can always reassess.
Second, when the impulse to threaten divorce or flee hits, use a brief pause strategy. Ask for a short break—say, ten minutes—so you can calm down without making irreversible declarations. You can say, “I’m feeling overwhelmed; I need ten minutes and then we’ll continue.” During that pause, do grounding practices: notice the weight of the chair beneath you, press your tongue to the roof of your mouth or the back of your teeth, use a strong sour taste like a lemon to snap you back to the body, or switch between hot and cold water on your hands or in the shower. These sensory actions help regulate your nervous system so you can come back and engage without making threats that you’ll later regret.
Third, develop a daily self-regulation practice: a writing routine where you dump fears and upset onto paper, followed by a calming meditation. This practice can make intense feelings more tolerable. I recommend doing it twice a day—morning and evening—so you have regular outlets and reduce the chance that bottled-up emotion will erupt at your spouse. Having something grounded to do when you feel triggered—breathing, grounding, a written list of five facts that contradict catastrophic thinking—gives you an alternative to lashing out or making extreme threats.
Fourth, protect your marriage with firm boundaries. Your sister’s demand that you be her emotional sounding board—particularly about an affair with a therapist—was inappropriate. You set that boundary. If she keeps crossing it, you can keep the boundary firm. Love doesn’t require unconditional emotional availability to someone who harms you.
Fifth, consider the possibility that your sister’s pattern may reflect a personality disorder or other severe emotional dysregulation. While I’m not diagnosing her, it helps to name behaviors such as boundary violation, gaslighting, and love-bombing, and to factor those into your choices. Sometimes people who are chaotic or disordered draw others into drama and then punish them for setting limits. That dynamic can trigger old wounds for you; keep reminding yourself that your worth and your marriage are not the problem.
I also want to speak to the larger experience of people who tried traditional talk therapy and were harmed rather than helped. I, too, spent years in therapy that often felt worse than the problem. I know the impact of repeated sessions that leave you destabilized. For many people with early childhood trauma, conventional talk therapy—especially when therapists don’t understand complex trauma or dysregulation—can make symptoms worse. There’s a neurologic phenomenon called “dysregulation”: when talking about traumatic memories spirals the nervous system into overload, making cognition, speech, and bodily rhythms feel chaotic. For me, this meant after sessions I would be disoriented, unable to work or think for days, and so I began to avoid opening up because it felt unsafe. Over decades I saw many therapists—eleven by one count—some for long stretches, but most approaches didn’t give me the tools to stay regulated while working through material.
Two tools changed my life: EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing) and a specific daily writing practice. EMDR helped because it doesn’t require you to narrate traumatic memories in detail; you can hold a memory in mind and process it while the clinician guides bilateral stimulation. For me, EMDR sessions sometimes created dramatic shifts in a single session without needing to retell every painful detail. The second life-changing practice was a structured way of writing about fears and hurts multiple times a day, followed by a calming meditation. This rhythm made it possible for me to express what hurt without the disorganization and overwhelm that previously followed sessions. I could write the pain, read it back, and not fall apart. Over time, these practices helped reorganize my nervous system.
Because of these discoveries I began to teach this approach to others online. Thousands of people have taken the daily practice course, and many report profound relief. I also want to acknowledge criticism I’ve received—especially from some clinicians who say that survivors should only work with licensed professionals. I am not a licensed clinician, but I have studied, practiced, and lived recovery for decades; I share what helped me. People who feel stuck or harmed by conventional therapy deserve access to alternatives and to communities of mutual support.
If you’re still searching for a trauma-informed clinician, there are practical criteria to consider. Here are ten qualities to look for when choosing a therapist for complex trauma:
1) Honesty and transparency: They should speak plainly about their expertise and limits, not hide behind vague platitudes or try to please you with empty reassurance. A good clinician will say, “This is my specialty,” or, “I don’t do that, but I can refer you.”
2) Engagement with current research: Ask about their sources—do they know key trauma authors and the contemporary literature? Are they open to learning? Therapists who stay connected to new developments are more likely to use effective strategies.
3) Clinical knowledge plus, optionally, lived experience: Some survivors prefer clinicians who also have personal recovery stories; others don’t. Ask what experiences and training inform their work and see if you feel aligned with it.
4) A realistic plan for improvement: While no one can promise timelines, a good therapist should offer both short-term coping skills and longer-term strategies. If all you hear is “everyone’s different” with no actionable suggestions, that’s a problem.
5) Common-sense recommendations: Do they encourage basic wellness—exercise, sleep, cutting back on alcohol and sugar—as part of recovery? Or do they offer only abstract theories? Practical lifestyle support matters.
6) Willingness to explore your role: Do they help you look at patterns you contribute to life problems and offer ways to change them, not just rehearse how others hurt you? Healing involves both understanding injuries and taking steps to reduce harm and build new skills.
7) Methods that don’t force traumatic retelling: For people who dysregulate when they narrate trauma, seek clinicians who can work with body-based, somatic, or EMDR-like approaches that allow healing without full narrative exposure.
8) Capacity to keep sessions reasonably structured: People with dysregulation benefit from predictable sessions and clear plans so the mind doesn’t spiral into chaotic memory cascades.
9) Skill in noticing and addressing dysregulation: A clinician should be able to recognize when you’re becoming overwhelmed and deploy concrete interventions to bring you back into the session productively.
10) Curiosity and respect for your perspective: They should value your input about what helps and what doesn’t, not dismiss your observations. This collaborative stance is crucial for long-term recovery.
A final serviceable tip: in the online era you have more options than ever. Teletherapy platforms can increase access, lower costs, and give you the chance to try a clinician who isn’t local—improving your odds of finding someone trauma-savvy. Read reviews, ask direct questions in initial contacts, and don’t be afraid to try several clinicians before committing.
To close: many therapists have given their lives to help others, and many do transformative work. But if therapy activates your trauma, hurts you, or leaves you worse off, you have permission to stop and to seek help that actually steadies you. Hold on to the fact that you created your own healing, and when a therapist fails you, reclaim credit for the work you did. Keep learning, keep using tools that regulate your nervous system, and keep seeking a practitioner who can both understand complex trauma and offer clear, practical ways to feel safer and function better day to day. If you’re in crisis, reach out for immediate professional support and consider resources that offer rapid access to trained clinicians who can help stabilize you. And if you’ve been harmed by a therapist’s boundary violations, you may want to consider filing a complaint—such misconduct is not just wrong, it’s dangerous, and it deserves accountability.

[Music] is present