By skyforbes 
When the Couch Becomes a Stage.
A curious scenario has been circulating online this week. If you’re reading this, you’ve likely seen it. A woman, framed in tortoiseshell reading glasses and soft lighting shares a confession with millions of viewers: she’s fallen in love with her psychiatrist. She claims he is to blame for these feelings, suggesting manipulation, betrayal, and a power imbalance so severe it left her emotionally undone.
The story is compelling. But something about it feels … curated.
It spread quickly, amplified by platforms built more for drama than clinical rigour. What began as a personal disclosure has now morphed into a template for suspicion: that therapists can be dangerous and manipulative, that boundaries are illusions and subjective, and that if a client feels something, then something must have happened.
As a new therapist, I find myself deeply uneasy. Not because harm is impossible, but because I know how easily therapy can be misrepresented in the court of public opinion. I’ve spent the better part of my training learning how powerful the therapeutic alliance can be, and how fragile it becomes when feelings are mistaken for facts, or worse, repackaged for monetised engagement.
What few seem to be naming in the comments or…