My childhood psychiatrist was just a piece of work all around.
She knew that (one of) the drugs that she was giving me were causing me mini-seizures involving olfactory hallucinations, dizziness, frequent feelings of deja vu and exhaustion. Not only did she NOT tell my parents to get me an MRI or a CAT scan or anything that might have detected a congenital brain tumor that the medication was causing to grow, but she kept me on the medication until I had a full-on grand mal seizure and passed out. Even then, she took me off the medication without doing any follow-up to make sure that things were okay.
She kept my dad, who was rather squeamish about some of the ways she was dealing with me, from saying anything for a while by supplying him with recreational drugs on the side, and then when he finally started to fight back, she threatened to institutionalize him and strip him of custody of my brother and I.
She looked through my sketchbook drawings, which were mostly satirical/dark humor cartoons, and started flipping out and telling my dad that I was going to become a school shooter because they involved killer robots, weapons and blood. She pretty much shoved medication in my face and screamed at me for refusing to take any more drugs.
She listened to my dad and I's reasons that I shouldn't be put through any more unnecessary cosmetic surgery that my mom and the head of the team of doctors I saw wanted me to go through, and seemed to take our side. Then she fantastically backstabbed me and switched sides when we actually talked to my mom about it, telling me that I should be happy for this "opportunity" and dismissed all of our completely legitimate reasons for why it was a bad idea.
She in general got involved with my family's politics, triangulating between my mom and dad and driving them farther apart, especially on issues concerning my wellbeing.
She not only told everything I said to my parents, even though she knew it got used against me often enough, but also exchanged other patients' secrets between them.
All in all, in the six years I was going to see her, I was on twelve or more different medications, and every single one gave me side effects. Because she worked almost exclusively with medication treatments, she overlooked qualities that obviously pointed to a spectrum condition (poor coordination and motor control, social skill problems, perseverations, problems with proper body language and sensory issues). Instead, I got diagnosed with ADHD, dissociating from reality, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, clinical depression, bipolar disorder and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Only the latter was in any way accurate. I ended up flushing and trashing my medications for several months before I was found out, at which point my parents could obviously not prove that there was any difference on or off, and soon after managed to finally see another doctor.