Oh, how I wish that were true. When I was 12, my brother was heavily into drugs, my sister was violent, and my parents were ending their loveless marriage. I wasn't handling it well.
My mother decided to put me in therapy. My therapist bullied me, literally shouting at me that I wasn't normal, suggesting I should skip out on school, and offering to "teach me how to masturbate". I hated going there, and told my mother (who had been granted custody), but she just said I hated it because he told me "hard truths" and "told it like it was".
It's been decades, and for all I know he's dead. I heard that he'd been fined for insurance fraud, but never lost his license.
I'm sure a competent therapist would have helped me. I did have problems adjusting, and I suspect (only suspect) that I'm "on the spectrum", as the kids say. But I was put in exactly the wrong place to deal with that.
Moral of the story: you have to vet therapists thoroughly before you entrust your psychological well-being to them.