Despite my admiration for what Catholicism once was --its present state a cause for face-palming--, its effect on me has not been one-sidedly positive.
From my current POV, and I emphasize the particularity of this moment in time and in my life, one of the harms it did was to present me with an impossible vision of how the world ought to be. Even including my characterological biases and needs, it very much got in the way of me dealing with the world as it actually is. Including myself.
I dimly recall an article by a Catholic psychologist about the perils of constantly living with the presence of what he called The Twice-Born. These are the perfect and perfected beings that dominate the Catholic imagination: Jesus and Mary and the saints. I usually speak of it as the infection of perfection, being innoculated with a drive toward a humanly impossible goal. It drove Martin Luther to invent Protestantism.
This great imbalance is the case with all monastic religions, the dharmas of India and Buddhism as well as Christianity. And it can even find a sort of home in householder revelations like Judaism, Islam, Sikhism. Perhaps it is the price of conceiving The Absolute. Pagan religions have their own drawbacks, to be sure. Imperfect gods lead to a different kind of impasse. But growing up with the propaganda of the perfect eventually became a problem in itself. I freely admit that the vehemence of my reaction to moralisms of all kinds has its root there.
My appreciation of Jung and the Gnostics is certainly connected because in them, themselves both wounded and irrevocably shaped by Christianity, I heard a voice that recognized the human condition on planet Earth as an inherently conflictual dilemma. Not of our own devising. And incapable of being other than it is. As dark as that sounds, to me it was a great relief.
It told me that I was not, and we as a species are not, as guilty as I had been led to believe. And that God was not so innocent.