🎃 The 5 Scariest Things I’ve Heard this Year (Halloween Edition)

When Therapy Turns into a Horror Story

Not all monsters hide under beds. Some hide behind cardigans and overstuffed chairs.

Every October, I’m reminded that the scariest things I’ve ever encountered didn’t happen in a dark alley; they happened in the counseling room. I’m not talking about clients’ trauma (that’s sacred work). I’m talking about what I’ve heard from clients after working with other therapists.

These are real statements, each one a little horror story of its own.

👻 Scene 1: The Crying Therapist

Client: “She seemed really nice, but she cried the whole time.”

Internal me: Excuse me? She what now?

I picture a therapy session that looks like a group screening of The Notebook.

Tissues everywhere. Mascara rivers. The client holding space for the clinician.

The ghost of boundaries past makes its entrance, and I can almost hear my ethics professor screaming in the distance.

💀 Scene 2: The Sleeping Beauty

Client: “He fell asleep. I didn’t know what to do, so I covered him with the blanket and left.”

Me, out loud: “Holy ****!”

Me, internally:  "He napped through your trauma!”

I imagine him snoring softly under a weighted blanket. This is not exposure therapy; it’s REM therapy.

🧛 Scene 3: The Exorcism of Professional Boundaries

Client: “We just talked about whatever came up… and most of the time it was about her divorce.”

Suddenly, the room temperature drops ten degrees. My candle flickers. Somewhere in the distance, a marriage counselor screams.

In this vision, the therapist clutches her latte, sighing,

“Men, right?”

The client nods politely while their progress flat-lines. I can hear a solemn voice whispering, “Run.”

🕷️ Scene 4: The Clairvoyant Counselor

Client: “She said she doesn’t use assessments because she trusts her intuition.”

That’s not intuition, that’s witchcraft with malpractice insurance.

Look, I’m all for gut feelings, but maybe your gut shouldn’t replace a standardized measure. This is therapy, not Hogwarts.

🔮 Scene 5: The Universe Will Heal You

Client: “He said my trauma will heal when the universe is ready.”

Ah, yes, the Universe, that famously reliable treatment plan.

“Hey Universe, any updates on Jessica’s PTSD?”

Universe: 🦗 crickets

Meanwhile, the client is paying $150 for cosmic customer service.

🎃 Scene 6: The Therapist’s Existential Spiral

By this point, I’m gripping my coffee like a therapy-assisting dog. Every story adds another crack to the pumpkin of my sanity.

I’ve started rating them in my notes:

• Crying Therapist = 👻 Emotional Possession

• Sleeping Therapist = 💀 Comatose Countertransference

• Divorce Therapist = 🧛 Projection Drainer

• Intuitive Therapist = 🕷️ Assessment Aversion

• Universe Therapist = 🔮 Accountability Abduction

  
  

If these stories were a movie, it’d be titled The Client of 1,000 Therapists.

🧠 Scene 7: The Aftermath

When the session ends, I blow out the candle, whisper a quick prayer of gratitude that at least the clients made it out alive, and remind myself: Not all therapy is bad. But some of it is boo-diculous.

So this Halloween, if your therapist starts crying, snoring, or invoking cosmic forces, just remember:

You’re not in therapy. You’re in a horror anthology. Run.

A Final Word

This post was written as satire, but the truth behind it isn’t funny.

Clients really have experienced these moments. They’ve walked into therapy seeking help and walked out feeling unseen, unhelped, or worse, harmed.

At Untangled Mind, we use humor to highlight what’s broken, but we work daily to build something better. We believe in science over séances, data over guesswork, and structure over sentimentality. We measure progress, track outcomes, and yes, we stay awake for the whole session.

Therapy should challenge you, not haunt you. And while this piece pokes fun at the industry, the reality is sobering. You should never have had to endure these experiences.

For that, I’m truly sorry.

Here, your story is respected, your effort is measured, and your growth is honored. And if I ever start to look drowsy, I promise, I’ll grab a cup of coffee.

Happy Halloween. Stay grounded. Stay growing. And may your therapist always stay awake.