true story

This section of my book describes events that are dark and horrifying. This marks a radical change in the narrative of the book. Nothing that happened prior to now could have prepared me for the horrors that await.

At the end of the last chapter, I was on top of the world. I certainly would not have wanted anything to change. I would have done anything imaginable to hold onto the life I had with Lynn. I was crazy in love.

My career that I had spent the past sixteen years building was about to come to a sudden, crashing end.

Most of the events described within the chapters of this entire section occurred within one month - August of 2000.

John Freifeld became obsessed with destroying my credibility and my career. He had moved from Virginia to Wilmington and moved in with the first person he referred to me for treatment. He would brainwash some of my clients into thinking that I was the cause for all their problems and why they weren't getting better. That included one client, Sadie, who had successfully completed therapy with me and previously had said she was very satisfied with the care that I had provided.

Freifeld composed a complaint letter to the North Carolina Social Work Certification and Licensure Board (NCSWCLB) on behalf of five of my clients, including the client who had been satisfied with my care when I last met with her for therapy. The complaints were the same, verbatim.

One of the complaints was that I planted false memories of Satanic Ritual Abuse. I had previously looked into how it was that two of my clients had begun to believe that these bizarre things happened to them as children.

Everything that mattered to me was under assault. Lynn's disease suddenly took a turn for the worse. This more than anything was terrifying to me. She was my whole life. I was madly in love with Lynn. She was part of me. We were one body. We were husband and wife.

How do you cope without the one person that connects you to the world and everything meaningful in the world? Whatever success I had found in life was made all the more beautiful and amazing because I could share it with Lynn. Now her life was in jeopardy.

The issues that clients presented to me could be addressed with rational reasoning. That had worked for a while. However, there was no similar way to cope with the loss of the entire life I had built with Lynn. Again, most of the chapters in this section occur within one month of 2000. So, there wasn't time to go ask a therapist for advice or guidance.

Previously, I would ask my colleagues, therapists, psychologists, or my psychoanalyst how I might handle complicated matters that might have an impact on my success as a psychotherapist. Now things were changing too fast - literally from one day to the next. It wasn't clear to me when I should have canceled all appointments with every client.

It would have been easier if I caught a serious illness like a virus in August of 2000. Then I would have known to cancel all appointments for as long as necessary. It's easier to tell when we have something physical happen to us. 

I was reading a number of different books when she came to me. I had a few books stacked near the bed. It was April 15, 2000. A normal day in the life of a psychotherapist who felt on top of the world.

Yes, I'm talking about me.

Two of the books were somewhat related to one another. One was from the study material that I had on psychodynamic/psychoanalytic therapy. I had been pursuing credentials in this area though I was aware that the theories were hard to prove.

I suppose there are a number of concepts from psychodynamic/psychoanalytic theory that is useful to know as a therapist. Defense mechanisms, like projection and transference, rationalization, and repression.

Then there was a book on ego state theory. This did seem like a valuable framework for understanding the different states of mind that describe the normal processes of life. Making love is a state of mind altogether different than other states of mind - I certainly am not in that same state of mind when I am at work.

The other book was called "Paperclip Dolls." This was peculiar. It was written by a woman who had different alter personalities put this book together. She said she used pictures from magazines to create a scrapbook that depicted parts of herself. Hmm.

Was she one of the dolls? That seemed to be what she was suggesting. She seemed to have discovered aspects of herself from the work she had done using these pictures that she cut out of the magazines.

I had only recently stumbled upon this book.

I had been treating people with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) which is discussed in greater detail, dear reader, in another book in this series of memoirs. There were some conspiracy theories circulating about government mind control and other bizarre things. I had clients who were sharing some unusual ideas about what had happened to them early in life.

Treating DID was only a small part of what made up my private practice. Dissociative Identity Disorder used to be called Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) and it is based on the idea of people having different personalities due to early life trauma.

I had been searching the web for information about DID, treatment, abuse, trauma, and other terms. Those were keywords I used in my searches. I found forums, chat rooms, web sites. Directories and more. Some were directed perhaps to therapists and other mental health professionals. However, even those were available to the public.

Many confused people could end up believing in things that never happened. Delusions. Some people seemed to have become certain about what happened to them, and yet if it were true, it would be an explosive conspiracy theory or set of conspiracy theories.

What had happened to these people? So many curious ideas were running through my mind. My mindset was somewhat philosophical. Curious. Inquisitive.

I let that go. I looked up and Lynn was at the bedroom door.

She had a mischievous smile on her face. "I want sex," she said.

"Me too," I said, my face lit up with a smile. I took off my shirt as she was unbuttoning her shirt.

She dropped her pants on the floor and removed her bra. Seeing her breasts, I felt aroused and excited. My heart was racing with excitement. I was aroused as I removed my pants. I paused captivated by the sight of her as if I was seeing her for the first time.

She dropped her pants and underwear and I paused for a moment to take in the sight of her and she let me look. Lynn knew how much pleasure I found in looking at her. No doubt, it felt good for her to know she was so beautiful to me.

"Perfect," I said. She smiled. Looking down she noticed I was excited, but she let me look for a moment as I paused taking in the sight of her... adding the words "Amazing! Beautiful!"

I started to move toward her but before I got very far, she was getting onto the bed.

She was on top of me, her tongue inside my mouth, mine inside hers. We were moving. She was on top.

I could feel both of our hearts as she pressed her lips against mine. Her arms around me squeezed tighter and tighter. I could feel her breasts against my chest.

She said, "I feel like I can't get close enough."

"I know," I said, returning to kissing her.

She was supporting herself somehow, just slightly elevated near our waists.

She paused for a moment as she felt me between her legs. "Oh, you're too close, sweetie," she said with a sigh of pleasure all the same.

This might be confusing but remember, Lynn can't get pregnant. She was telling me that she wanted to be a part of me when she said she can't get close enough, but despite that desire, she had to be sure that she didn't get pregnant.

She continued to move and wrap her arms closely around me. Her kisses were so desperate and passionate. She was hungry! So was I.

Our arms and bodies moved as I caressed Lynn and she squeezed me tighter. I had a habit of letting her squeeze maybe because I was concerned about her comfort.

Those words repeated in my mind. "I feel like I can't get close enough."

"I feel like I can't get close enough."

I dropped a bit and let go with a smile. She sensed what had happened.

She just smiled. "I came already," I said.

"That's okay."

She was still above me smiling.

I asked genuinely curious, "that was good for you?"

"Yeah. I am glad you felt good."

"But you didn't."

"Yes, I did," she said.

"Not really," I said... adding "You were so hungry for sex and you didn't have an orgasm, how can that be good enough?"

"We can do that another time, she said, adding, "I'm happy."

"Wow, so am I," I said with a chuckle.

I reflected upon how amazing it was that this was happening so often, nearly every day as if we had just gotten engaged... as if this was the "honeymoon phase" that I heard described somewhere – something that exists for one year.

The passion was so incredibly intense. You would think we had just gotten engaged a few months ago... or that we had not seen each other in a few weeks or months.

She got up to start the shower for us. I lay for a moment reflecting on things.

I felt a wave of serenity wash over me.

I was in love. Because she was in love with me. We were one.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you so much" I added.

I then smiled or laughed a bit.

"What?" she asked.

"I was thinking of that song by the Moody Blues and how I would like to sing it to you, but I can't... I can't sing."

"'Cause I love you,
yes, I love you,
oh, how I love you,
oh, how I love you.'

I like the way the singer sings those words like he is overcome with a feeling that MUST be cried out the same way you cannot contain yourself when we make love. But it's not the same thing, I can and would cry out those words in public. Then it repeats... those same words.

'Cause I love you,
yes, I love you,
Oh, how I love you,
oh, how I love you.'"

Then I said, "That's how I feel! I want to tell the whole world that I love Lynn."

I then added, "and you KNOW I would do just that, over and over, no matter how many times someone has heard it!

She just smiled.

I had the thought that I would have shouted these words out to the world not just after we made love but anytime. So often and in so many ways I felt these feelings of intense love for Lynn and an intense desire to tell everyone about it.

Shortly later that evening, I was still thinking about Lynn's happiness and what that meant for her.

I thought about how much I cared about her happiness, her dreams, and her aspirations. She wanted a Master of Fine Arts (MFA) degree – could I help with that?

What about a kiln so that she could bake her pottery at home? Maybe I could earn more money and buy that for her.

In the last chapter, I mentioned that my private practice had grown so very fast. It was amazing. There were many different clients that I was seeing with different problems or issues.

I had been getting so many clients and so it would be more affordable to get my own office than to rent an office from Chris at the rate of fifteen dollars per hour. I began to do this calculation when I had been spending close to 40 hours in a week face to face with clients. 

Getting My Own Office

With the support and help of Lynn, I selected a location in downtown Wilmington, on Chestnut Street.

The rent was about $400 per month. Since I had been paying Chris $15 per hour when I used his office, every hour after 26 per month cost me more than $400 in the month. So, it was clearly more cost-effective to have my own office since I was easily needing the office for more than 26 hours. 

Within about a month, I was spending more than 26 hours with clients in one week. In a month, I would be losing a tremendous amount of money by paying $15 per hour to Chris. Don't get me wrong, the kindness of Chris was infinitely valuable to me. Getting my own office was just the most cost-effective action to take. 

Everything was amazing and wonderful beyond my wildest dreams. This was real. I was feeling so proud of everything I had accomplished. I knew I had finally reached the height of my success - everything that I had been dreaming of for so long.

Lynn and I met with the receptionist at the location, and she was really nice. She said that she would meet and greet clients when they come in and ask for me. Of course, she knew about confidentiality.

They had a nice waiting room that was never full. A lawyer had been renting the office next to mine. It was a long building with about 10 different offices down the hallway. There were a few other therapists like me and others in different businesses.

Next to my office, there was a conference room that any of us could use. There was a calendar behind the counter where the receptionist sits that is used to book the conference room when you expect that you will need it.

I now had two phone numbers to give my clients. One of them went to the receptionist and she would ring my office if I was in and not in session. I had a way to indicate that I am with a client and should not be interrupted.

It was late in 1998 when I made this transition... from a small private practice and renting an office for a few hours per week from Chris Hauge to having my own office with a receptionist, a waiting room of my own, full ownership of the single office room, and access to a conference room.

Lynn and I started looking for deals at yard sales to decorate the office. We went to Office Depot and bought a desk and a nice comfortable chair for me to sit in next to the desk. We had to act quickly because everything was happening fast.

We picked up a nice or fairly decent couch for a great price at a yard sale. I obviously cannot remember now decades later what things looked like. We also picked up a few nice pillows to make the couch comfortable. No one was going to sleep here but they could be helped to feel more comfortable.

We also picked up a whiteboard for notes and illustrations with clients. Obviously, I needed to put my degree up on the wall along with my license and certifications, i.e., the certification as a Clinical Hypnotherapist with ASCH (the American Society of Clinical Hypnosis) as well as other certificates I received at various training workshops.

Lynn was a great help in picking out and decorating the office. I am not someone who cares how things look, so I needed help to feel comfortable that I had an office that looked inviting, comfortable, and professional. I am sure I would have been self-conscious if I didn't have Lynn's help.

I knew we needed - I needed - a couple more chairs in case I wanted to do group therapy. I figured I would need to do more of this than the availability of the conference room might allow.

The conference room had a big table that filled most of the room. There was a phone in there and a large whiteboard at one end of the room.

I also picked up some toys, a toy box, dolls, and a few other things. this was for play therapy. There was a couple that came to me to get help with their children. So, I needed a way to work with them. It is easier to work with children by letting them play if they are under the age of ten or twelve.

I had studied play therapy since that time when I was a first-year intern at the New Hanover County Mental Health Center in 94. While I wasn't thinking I would have lots of kids come to see me, I thought I should have something for kids if necessary or if it would be helpful.

The receptionist could call clients if necessary, she could help with typing, make copies, perhaps help with billing, as well as accepting payments from clients as they come in or after a session. I had a billing person who would help with billing clients for their sessions, so I didn't ask the receptionist to do any of that.

We discussed the ideas about what she might want to do for me. I thought that due to the need for confidentiality that I would make calls to clients, but she could certainly pick up calls if they called into the office to cancel, reschedule, or to state that they were running late. She would announce to me when someone showed up and I would come down the hall and greet them.

I didn't like having to collect payments myself, but I still felt that it would make sense for me to arrange payment agreements and accept payments personally rather than have the clients pay the receptionist, most of the time. Sometimes clients would leave a check upfront with the receptionist.

Sometimes, I would get anxious if someone was running late and I would walk down to the waiting room to see if I had missed the announcement. Plus, the receptionist only worked nine to five, Monday through Friday.

After those hours, I had a key to enter the building, a key code to enter into the alarm, and I was expected to lock the door, obviously.

So, I was ready to get to work.

This was amazing! It was a time for celebration! I wanted to tell everyone I knew just how thrilled I was. I wanted to celebrate!

It was so wonderful to have someone to share this with - Lynn. So, we marked it with dinner and marked the occasion as it was so important ... I wanted to mark the importance of this accomplishment through a metaphorical plaque of honor to be remembered as an important marker in the history of my life and I want it told for generations to come!

I did it! And a celebration was just what was called for. 

Lynn's Extended Family Visits

Lynn had a cousin who came to visit a few times and we went to Scranton, Pennsylvania to see her cousins.

One of those occasions, when they came to visit us, was in the summer of 1997. This was so much fun because the kids loved me. They had two girls. One of them Becca (short for Rebecca), was maybe five years old when she met me, and her sister, Tammy was 12.

We gave her cousin, Mary, and her husband Frank, the spare room that had a couch that opened into a bed. Their daughters Becca and Tammy slept in the other room where we had the bookcase and the computer.

Unlike visiting my parents during this time, it never crossed my mind that there would be an issue with the fact that Lynn and I had not had a wedding. We certainly didn't pretend to sleep in different rooms or in a separate bed.

I believe I only made one visit to my parents for Christmas as a result of Lynn saying that we should sleep in different beds. That might have been right after we moved in together in 1994 and were living as husband and wife. So, we have jumped ahead a few years and I don't know if it would have even occurred to us in 1997 to consider sleeping in different beds at this point. 

It's worth noting that when we went to visit them in Pennsylvania even before this, it never occurred to Lynn to bring up the topic of sleeping arrangements. Of course, we were going to sleep in the same bed or bedroom when we were visiting.

Getting back to her cousin's visit in 97...

On the first day of their visit, we went to the beach at Carolina Beach. This wasn't far from where Lynn and I had gone on our first date all those years earlier.

I loved spending time with both Becca and Tammy.
 

We found a spot on the beach where the waves came from the open ocean. And after the grown-ups, not including me, got comfortable, I was being called upon by Becca and Tammy to go into the water.

As we started walking into the ocean, Becca reached up with her hands to me and said, "pick me up."
 

So, I held her in my arms and the three of us -Tammy, Becca, and I - went into the deeper water as they requested.

We were riding the waves.

I was drinking salt water and asked for a break to wash out the nasty taste in my mouth.

Becca was soon asking to go back into the water.

I looked at her mother, Mary, and asked, "how far can she go?"

Mary said, "as far as you want to go."

I thought, "of course, it's not like I'm going to let anything happen to Becca. Plus, she can swim."

I knew there wasn't a rip current that can pull you under very easily so I felt confident that we could keep going as far as they wanted to go.

We went far enough that when we were riding the waves, my feet were barely able to touch the bottom without being in over my head. I would try to jump up at times and Becca would stand on my legs pushing me down at that moment when I was about to jump up and over the waves.

It was so amazing and so much fun. I felt like a big brother or a father figure. It didn't seem that her father had any problem with the fact that the kids wanted to spend more time with me than with him... Lynn's cousin didn't mind this either.

The "grown-ups" stayed on the shore talking. What I mean is that Lynn, her cousin Mary, and her husband Frank were deep in conversation while we - Becca and her sister Tammy - played in the ocean.

Yeah, this was so exciting. I think that I was meant for this.

They spent a few days with us, and I became the one that was responsible for entertaining the kids. I didn't mind and in fact, I loved it.

I noticed my heart was racing the entire time. I couldn't sit still. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling, though. I just was full of energy and excitement. I couldn't even slow down enough to use the bathroom; I was so full of energy.

I took both the girls to the nearby grocery store and a few other places because they wanted to spend time with me. I let myself be carefree and child-like. Yes, I was a responsible adult, but I still had the ability to be playful.

This might be useful when I do play therapy if I get clients who have children.

Then the girls, Tammy and Becca wanted to go roller skating. So, I went outside in our neighborhood and let them skate there. 

Lynn and I were living in the house at 2240 Brucemont Drive, the place her mother had bought for us. It was a quiet street without much traffic so that was ideal for this.

During the visit, the grown-ups wanted to go roller skating too. That was the only thing I could not do. The little girls were completely able to do this.

Lynn and her cousin, Mary and Frank could roller skate, along with the girls but I could not do that.

We drove to the University of North Carolina, Wilmington campus. They had a network of sidewalks where they could go roller skating. We rented roller skates for the adults. The girls had brought their own skates.

Lynn encouraged me to try to skate. I could not get moving. It was frustrating. Everyone else could do this and I could not. I gave Lynn my hands and let her pull me around on the skates for a little while. This was one of the times, other than at bedtime when Lynn and I were alone together. We let the others go ahead and skate while Lynn tried to teach me how to skate.

Her cousin or the girls would approach us, say a few words and it seemed that they could sense that I felt uncomfortable and frustrated. I wasn't being rude but I said I felt embarrassed.

Finally, I just took off the roller skates and walked a bit next to Lynn. The girls were roller skating still.

We later drove up to Scranton, Pennsylvania, and stayed with her cousins for a few days.

Welcome and Unwelcome Touching

What I am about to describe is important to note because not all sexual touching is welcome, and gender has nothing to do with that. I have been touched in my genital area when I did not want that to happen and had said so. That would be sexual assault.

No, means no! No matter what!

Lynn was a bit mischievous on the drive up there. While I was driving, she unzipped my pants and started stimulating me. I said, "what if someone comes up on the right?"

She knew what made me feel pleasure and how I liked to be touched. It had to be gentle and there are places where I do NOT want to be touched down there. But Lynn knew how and where to touch me and where not to touch me.

This was different than the impression I got from my parents. My mother would describe sex as something she owed to her husband. She had said when I was a young adult that "even if she might not be in the mood, she understood that a man has needs."

Yuck, that seemed so cold, unromantic, and just plain disturbing. I also had rejected all those traditional ideas such as the man being the head of the household.

I felt lucky to know that she wasn't the one in the relationship who had to wait to initiate sexual contact, which was something I had been noticing for a few years now. I liked that a great deal.

I wanted a more egalitarian relationship, and I definitely did not want to be the person within the relationship that had the greater sexual appetite or interests.

Like the highway we were traveling, the relationship was a journey that we both were on together.

Spending Time in Pennsylvania with Lynn's Cousin

When we were staying with her cousin, Lynn and I slept on an inflatable mattress on the floor in their living room, but Lynn's cousin gave us their kid's bedroom to get dressed and shower.

There's a contrast that stands with my own family and Lynn suggesting that we sleep in separate beds when we are in their home. Granted I am now talking about events in 1997 but even if it was 1994, right after Lynn and I moved in together, it would NEVER have occurred to anyone in Lynn's extended family to ask us to sleep in different beds or imply or suggest this. 

It just would never have occurred to anyone.

If I had been more assertive and just said to my parents that is not acceptable and we either won't visit for Christmas or we will get a motel, Lynn would have gone along with that.

With her cousins like with her mother, that was the last thing that ever crossed my mind or their minds! 

I feel a need to make that clear, dear reader.

Again, when we came to visit them, I was like the big brother or babysitter. I suppose that word is a misnomer when it comes to spending time with a girl who is in her early teens. I was the one who spent time with the kids while the "grownups" did their thing together.

It was exciting for me. Lynn was happy to see her cousin.

The girls loved to show me places, where we could walk to have fun - the park, a nearby school with swings... or they would show me things in their rooms. We played games in the yard or on the driveway outside. They weren't tomboys. They just liked having fun and showing off.

Many people have noticed how much I enjoy and relate well to kids. Lynn's cousin clearly enjoyed, and Lynn appreciated, the freedom that they had while I occupied the kids.

They could just forget about their kids for a few days!

It was a perfect arrangement!

Does this imply that I wanted to have kids? Yes, of course. Lynn felt bad about this. She knew that I understood the situation and she knew that I was in love with her.

I might love my job. I might love the kids but being in love with your wife is obviously different. Neither the job nor the kids in my life when they were around could meet the deeper and more profound needs that exist for a person like me or for a couple. At least that was always my impression.

Lynn was mine, chose me, wanted to live with me, and that, more than anything else, brought me the deepest and most profound joy and serenity.

I haven't known anything more profoundly important than this love that we shared. Nothing else has meant as much to me as Lynn.

Some parents have described the bond they have with their children to be even more important than that of a couple. I can't imagine a more intimate bond than Lynn and I had. 

Family life is what makes life meaningful and joyful. Being able to pay attention to maintaining a balanced life is crucial when you're working in the field of mental health. Some psychiatric disorders impact us as therapists who witness the pain of others.

You might think I am only talking about the traumatic experiences of clients who have been hurt but anytime one is dealing with negative emotions all day one can find that it puts a strain on us as therapists. We listen to the despair, sadness, and negativity of others and it can have an impact on us.

The responsibility that we bear for the well-being of others requires us to have a life full of joy and peace outside the workweek. We need balance in life.

Wanting my family to be impressed with me

Of course, we want those who are part of our family to be proud of us. I was certain that I had the admiration of my brother and sister and that I had made my parents proud. As far as I could tell at the time, it had seemed that they would have been proud of me, finally. Their investment in my education had paid off. I had used it to get another degree, a graduate degree, then to get credentialed/licensed in my field.

They had to be proud. I had not been questioning this at the time. I just assumed they were happy for me as well. I had found love! That would make anyone feel good to know this about a family member.

Anyway, my career path was carefully and deliberately chosen with the aid of psychology and a psychologist/counselor when I was in college. Then in the many years after that, I pursued employment opportunities based on my aptitudes, interests, and values. While I got advice and support from others, I made all the decisions myself with the insights I was gaining.

I had told my siblings and my parents why we couldn't have children and why we couldn't have a church wedding or a marriage license - Lynn's medical care could be cut off if she lost health care coverage.

The fact that my sister worked for a company that sold health insurance was a topic I didn't know how to address. In retrospect, this had nothing to do with "insurance" because no insurance company should have to pay for a pre-existing condition. We need a medical clinic and a doctor to worry about her treatment, not an insurance agent.

Anyway, I also obviously wanted them to be impressed that I had overcome so much to achieve so much success in life. I had gone to college with zero social skills and now I was counseling others and treating people with problems I once had.

Career Success and Friends

My friends were proud of me, as was my wife, Lynn. I had a social circle of like-minded poets who were part of the poetry scene in Wilmington. These friendships continued to grow.

Sometimes when I was learning experiential therapy techniques that were part of the human potential's movement, I was able to persuade my friends to participate in encounter sessions. This would be like using these techniques for those of us who are not coming together to work on a psychiatric problem. You don't do therapy with your friends or your wife for that matter.

I might invite my friends to try something like psychodrama – a fancy word for role-playing. Alternatively, I demonstrated guided imagery and visualization techniques.

It was nice to see that my friends were interested in what I was learning and wanted to try things out with my guidance.

I also demonstrated clinical hypnosis with Lynn. She was receptive to the idea of visualizing her body fighting the symptoms of Cystic Fibrosis... maybe visualizing where the congestion was and directing her body to try to loosen it up.

Anything to bring healing was worthy of trying.

Most of the time she kept falling asleep when I did this. This was a bit frustrating to me but amusing.

I guess it reflected the trust and serenity Lynn found when she was with me.

In the last chapter, I mentioned being employed at Brynn Marr Psychiatric Hospital. While the work with clients was rewarding, the values and norms of the setting were not a good match. I then worked in two public mental health settings. The second one was Sampson County Mental Health Center. That lasted just about 9 months before I wanted to move into private practice.

I was able to complete all the requirements for licensure as a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW) within the state of North Carolina before I left my employment at Sampson County Mental Health Center.

It was clear that whatever problems I had on the jobs at this agency or at Brynn Marr Psychiatric Hospital had nothing to do with how I performed with clients or patients.

During this time, I had sought feedback, counseling, support, and guidance from my colleagues. I had joined the local chapter of the Society for Clinical Social Workers which had regular meetings where I could interact with colleagues in a congenial setting where we got to share our ideas, request feedback on casework, and learn from one another.

It is through these meetings that I kept in touch with Chris Hauge who was a mentor of mine as I have mentioned previously.

I had approached Chris seeking advice on entering private practice because I looked up to him... I had known that he had kept a private practice for some time. He had been very supportive of my goals as they related to making a positive difference in the lives of others.

The Keys to Success and Accomplishments

As it turned out, Chris said that he was considering retirement and that he was cutting back his office hours. He offered to let me rent his office space at a certain rate per hour if and when I used the office. This was a very affordable way for me to find success.
 

I believe it was about $15 per hour - Chris wasn't using the office anyway during these hours. He told me the hours in which he used the office and when the office would be available. He shared an office with a partner - they had the main waiting room and reception area and two private office rooms where providers, like myself, could meet with clients.

If I had to build a private practice on my own, it could be challenging to get started. I would need to build a base of clients that would be paying every week for treatment with me. If you rent an office full time you have access to the building any time, day or night, but you pay a monthly rate to do this.

The cost to rent an office every month would be higher than the costs that Lynn and I were paying to rent our home - though her mother had been renting it to us and therefore we had gotten a great deal, a cheap rate for renting a home.

Chris gave me a key, introduced me to his partner and we discussed how I would record the hours in which I was going to use the office. He had a schedule I could consult to find out when the office was available.

There are so many things to consider when you are pursuing a career in this field and when you are seeking to work in private practice. As noted, I had to consider Professional Liability Insurance also called malpractice insurance, which are different names for the same thing. Chris needed to know that I had this coverage.

Billing is another issue. I had to file insurance claims for treatment with a client's insurance company or agency. So, I had to get registered with various insurance companies including Medicare.

I had contracted with someone to do the medical billing as well and I got a post office box (PO Box) for non-personal mail.

Having all my mail go to Chris' office didn't seem like something that I wanted to do yet. If I did not go to the office because I didn't have a client that day, then I might miss my mail that day. There was a place where I could get a PO Box close to our home.

It's great to have someone with whom you can consult when you are doing all these things and Chris was helpful in this regard as well.

Then I had to advertise in the newspaper and online. The internet was still a bit new in the late 90s, but I was able to create a website.

Other Advice That I Received from Colleagues

It's important to reflect upon the support I got from colleagues as well as the therapy or treatment that I had been receiving.

I became interested or curious to learn something about psychoanalysis and I began to study this formally from an organization that provides certification in psychodynamic/psychoanalytic therapy. The organization provided learning objectives, credits, coursework, as well as certifications for mental health and psychological professionals.

I would go and see Marjorie Israel, who worked out of her home. She was a clinical social worker like myself and I met her at those meetings.

Marjorie invited me to her home office. It was an interesting and scenic location. She had a nice yard with flowers and plants in a beautiful and serene garden with a curving sidewalk.

I would lay back on her couch and do free association or recount my dreams. It was reminiscent of Freudian psychoanalysis with the psychoanalyst and the couch. Marjorie said that she had to modify her approach since psychoanalysis traditionally had been done with a client coming four or five days a week for years.

Oh, I was paying her out of pocket, also. Lynn and I didn't have a great deal of money but she was supportive of me getting the guidance and support that I needed.

She also engaged in more talking than traditional psychoanalysis. 

While so much of psychoanalytic theory is hard to prove with research, I was interested in a technique where I would not be censoring anything at all. I was interested in making sure that I covered everything going through my mind – my motivations and hidden desires. I didn't want any issues from my past to interfere with my role as a therapist for clients.

It is so special that Lynn didn't ask me to work for a big agency that might offer "good insurance." We both knew that insurance wasn't the answer. She was born with a pre-existing condition. Even forcing insurance companies to cover pre-existing conditions is not a guarantee that we would need.

Starting My Practice

One of my counselors cautioned me that Wilmington was a saturated market, meaning there probably isn't a market for another psychotherapist in the Wilmington area.

I was going to prove him wrong, which would make him happy actually. I mean, he had my best interests in mind. He was speaking only about the market for therapists.

I did start to pick up clients rather fast. I had selected a few words to use in the advertisements as specialization areas that I hoped would be problems that people in the area had and/or things that interested me.  So, initially, I thought of advertising that I could help individuals who are dealing with anxiety, depression, eating disorders, and relationship issues. 

I had previously had problems with relationships which was manifested in the form of shyness, social anxiety, and social phobia. 

I added that I could use hypnosis to help with quitting smoking, weight loss, or other problems.

This seemed to work out well for me. I used a second phone number that rang at my home, but the location of where I was living was not revealed.

One guy started paying me out of pocket for weight loss.

Then I picked up a client who had relationship issues. He said that he was gay and asked if I could help. I reported that I could help. To me, relationships require active listening. So, I would demonstrate that in the sessions with the client and help him to learn how to increase his communication skills in the same way.

It's interesting that people in relationships that are non-traditional relationships will understandably want to know if we (the therapists) are comfortable listening to details about their intimate relationships.

Returning to the topic of psychoanalysis, we get terms like transference and countertransference from this field.

Transference is about how the client reacts to or responds to the therapist. It can relate to projection where a client projects onto the therapist ideas and feelings that exist in another relationship.

Countertransference is how therapists respond to the client and the client's behaviors. I was working on my own "issues" to ensure that none of my past was carried into the therapy sessions with others and would cloud my judgment. This was part of why I went for analysis with Marjorie.

Anyway, I also picked up a client who was dealing with major depression. Another issue that I was treating was anorexia. I had taken on a client who was in college and had come home with her family hoping to return to college later.

My client base was growing, and it was getting to the point that I needed more access to the office than what was available while renting from Chris. I also found that by paying a flat rate every month, I could save money.

Recognizing these accomplishments was amazing and a cause for celebration. So, Lynn and I went out to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. Everything was amazing and a celebration was called for!

This has been an overview of the various types of clients I was seeing and the problems or issues I was treating. Later chapters will go into more detail so I will ask you to keep reading with me.

First, let's talk about family life so that you, dear reader, will know that I had another life outside the office. 

In this section, I will describe the years of my career after I finally reached my career and professional goals, dreams, and aspirations. This was twelve years of hard work, never giving up, never letting any obstacle remain too much of a challenge for me to overcome. I was passionate, motivated, a very hard worker, relentless in pursuit of my goals.

It's also important to understand that for people like myself, we feel good when we are able to help another person. It feels good. That being said, what we do is NOT about us. It's about the client or in an inpatient setting, it's about the patients.

This is the backdrop to the life I was sharing with Lynn.

I suppose that is a feature of empathy - you feel with another person. So, if they find relief, you feel it with them. If they are happy, you rejoice with them.

Of course, if a client is depressed, manic, fearful, or traumatized you empathize which is like feeling with them but you have to stay grounded so you can help them. You have to resonate with a person and act in sync with them so that you can guide them toward a better more positive mental state or mindset.

Anyway, this section will pick up at my graduation from the University of South Carolina in the School of Social Work and my entrance into the field that I had been pursuing since I was 18, twelve years ago.  

Over the next four years of our life together, I was becoming successful in my field. I had gained a great deal of experience as a social work volunteer, followed by my jobs in the mental health field before I got my degree. These jobs were as a paraprofessional.

Lynn had been so supportive along the way and nothing would have been possible for me without her support. So, all the hundreds of people who were helped by me owe Lynn a debt of gratitude as well. I definitely needed support. 

I graduated from the University of South Carolina with a Master's in Social Work in May of 1996, but the education of a therapist/psychotherapist never ends.

By the time I graduated of my graduation with a Master's in Social Worker (MSW), I had a job to start in an inpatient psychiatric hospital named Brynn Marr Psychiatric Hospital in Jacksonville, North Carolina.

This seemed like a perfect opportunity because I had worked at "The Oaks" - a psychiatric hospital - as an intern which I mentioned previously in earlier chapters. The Oaks like Brynn Marr were somewhat similar.

I was hired with the title of "Therapist" on the adult unit. I was one of two therapists on the unit. Half the patients were assigned to me and the other half were assigned to the other therapist on the unit.

What I mean by saying that I was assigned half the patients, was that I was responsible for all aspects of their care while they were in the hospital, and I was responsible for discharge planning, also known as case management. That doesn't mean that I did the kinds of things that nurses and psychiatrists do. I just meant that I was the primary point of contact.

The other therapist on the unit, Leslie, had a master's in social work (MSW) like me and she was a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW).

I had taken the clinical exam right away after graduation and applied for the certification/credentials/license of Licensed Clinical Social Worker – Provisional (LCSW-P). I did this at about the same time I was starting work at Brynn Marr as I had to first graduate from college with my master's degree before I could take the clinical exam or seek that provisional licensure.

There was a substance abuse counselor as well, but he only offered group therapy sessions. It's interesting how lived experience as an addict allows people to work as a counselor without the same educational requirements, i.e., a master's degree.

Our supervisor was more of an administrator than a therapist or counselor.

There were several group therapy sessions every week that had to be run by either myself or the other therapist. We could provide individual therapy as well for each of the patients according to their needs, problems, interests, and diagnosis. I like the idea of a psychotherapist doing most of the therapy groups.

I found that the patients loved to have the opportunity to receive individual therapy sessions with me. This was incredibly good for my self-esteem and my sense of competency. You know that you are doing something right if you are finding that patients want to spend time with you for therapy sessions.

I did have a great deal of flexibility and freedom in offering or being available for therapy with patients.

In terms of group therapy, I had learned techniques in my second year of graduate school. I had observed the skills and talents of Chris Hauge at The Oaks who was a mentor of mine and who supervised me during my second-year internship.

I had picked up a workbook that had a number of ideas and techniques for running therapy groups – some ice breakers – to supplement what I had already learned.

The only problem that I noticed was that the hospital wasn't able to provide therapy services to those who didn't have good insurance. This was a for-profit hospital, and I didn't like the profit motive.

As a social worker, I had been motivated by a desire to help those who are most financially vulnerable within society. So, the idea of not being able to treat those who don't have good insurance didn't sit so well with me.

Later in my career, I would provide psychotherapy to individuals pro-bono. I NEVER wanted someone's ability to pay to be a barrier to my services.

You see this in so many settings. Sometimes it seems that the only people who "get it" when you are needy and need help are those who have struggled and dealt with poverty or homelessness themselves. We feel an obligation to share whatever fortune comes our way or whatever might be helpful.

That wasn't me though. Even before I knew real poverty, I could "get it" and empathize with the most vulnerable people in society.

Let me give an example of what I mean about my own values. There was a patient named Victoria - whose real identity I cannot reveal. She was there for anorexia and complications related to that. It became clear that she did not qualify for any more Medicare inpatient hospital days and I was asked by my supervisor to just focus on a referral for her to get treatment elsewhere.

This was my first job after graduation and so I didn't think of myself as necessarily an expert on eating disorders. However, if she wanted individual therapy with me, I wasn't going to deny her that.

My supervisor also wanted her to attend group sessions every day while she was there. I guess the staff started to think she was "difficult." Whatever challenges she might present, that wasn't a factor in how a patient should be treated.

She had said she felt that this was a hostile environment for her as a result of this. She had specifically asked that I be her therapist and not the woman therapist on the unit who was about my age but may have had a few more years experience than I did.

At one point, this topic of the hostile environment on the unit came up when I was sitting down with my supervisor. I was sitting alone with my supervisor when he asked me, "do you think this is a hostile environment for Victoria?"

I answered, "Yes, I think this is a hostile and non-therapeutic environment for her."

There was a point in the middle of the day when they were going to speak to her - the other therapist, perhaps the substance abuse counselor, the administrator (my supervisor). It seemed like they were ganging up on her. I made sure to be there to support her.

I remember her listening and she seemed uncomfortable, and I felt it too. I had positioned myself so that I was at her side beside her while the others spoke in a way that was confrontational, I felt. Symbolically, I felt it was normal and expected even in this setting for me to represent her interests. 

To make clear where I stood, I said "I have discussed how I agree that this has become a hostile and non-therapeutic environment for you, Victoria."

She was told that she needed to attend groups every day. 

She said emphatically, "fine, I'll go to Bruce's groups and that's it!"

Of course, that made me feel good. I'm not saying that Victoria wasn't a challenge. It just felt good to hear that I had made such a positive impression on a patient. This wasn't the only such experience.

In addition, it bothered me that my supervisor was seemingly implying that I could not provide therapy for Victoria because she needed to go to a place that specialized in eating disorders. And because they were not making money on her stay there! 

It was clear that it was about the hospital getting paid and that disgusted me!

She wanted therapy and would come by my office or I would walk around the unit and she would approach me asking to meet with me.

They seemed to want to just get rid of her since they weren't going to get a great deal of money from her. The master's level social worker that was also working on the unit seemed to have lost the passion that had inspired her to go into social work - that's how it seemed to me. That was confusing to me.

There were some patients like Victoria who had Borderline Personality Disorder, which can be challenging for therapists. I know my co-worker, Leslie, (the other therapist on the adult unit) used this term pejoratively and as their excuse for not being able to connect with and make progress with some patients.

There is a great book that gives the reader a great way to understand borderline personality disorder - it's called "I Hate You, Don't Leave Me." Some people will vacillate between idealizing and hating a person.

I believe this is a result of certain parenting styles.

At times I felt like I was walking on eggshells with Victoria. I felt challenged to demonstrate that I cared about her and was concerned for her welfare. Sometimes she would walk away angry and then come back or get up to go but then sit back down.

I remember her storming out of the office saying "you are just like everyone else, you don't care... I can't stand you."

Then the next day I saw her, and she approached me in the morning as if nothing happened. She just said, "can you meet with me for therapy?"

I answered, "yes, after group."

She smiled and said, "I'll be there for your group, I'm not going to Leslie's groups."

"I know," I answered with a smile of amusement, adding, "I'll see you in a few minutes."

You just have to be thick-skinned and not take things like this personally.

Thinking about being a couple

As a sign of my dedication to helping others and my enjoyment, I want to describe an experience when I was working as hurricane Fran was about to come ashore.

I had to learn to think about more than myself and my own lack of fear of hurricanes. Lynn would be worried about me working late as a hurricane comes ashore.

Lynn was much more afraid of hurricanes than I was. She was from California where they have earthquakes, and I would say that at least with a hurricane the earth doesn't open up like it's going to swallow you. We had debated which was worse a hurricane or an earthquake. To her, the waiting and suspense of knowing the hurricane is coming made it worse.

Anyway, Hurricane Fran was due to make landfall on the Cape Fear River in Wilmington after 8 PM.

I was sitting there talking to Victoria and the hour was a few minutes after 5:00 PM. I noticed a phone call coming in. Lynn had my direct extension.

"This is Lynn, I need to take this," I said to Victoria. I must have mentioned Lynn. 

"Hello, this is Bruce," I said not entirely sure yet who was calling.

"Hi," I heard Lynn say followed by "what are you doing?"

"I'm working," I said.

I could hear Victoria laugh as I said this.

"You need to come home." She said, "The roads are flooding and ..."

I listened to her concerns and said, "Okay, I will leave now."

"Be careful, honey, I am worried," She said adding "I have seen some of the roads. You might not be afraid of hurricanes as much as me, but you need to think about me."

"I'm sorry," I answered Lynn.

Victoria had been listening and she was understanding of the situation. I told her that I needed to go because Lynn was worried, and I said that I would see her the next workday. I wasn't sure if that would be tomorrow, Friday. As it turned out, I didn't come in on Friday after the hurricane, but I did come on Saturday. Victoria was there on Saturday.

Overall, I made good progress with Victoria, but I wasn't able to get her placed in a treatment center for eating disorders. Instead, she ended up moving in with another patient that she had met in the hospital.

Success and Accomplishments
 

It was amazing to me that I was able to overcome the social anxiety that I had throughout most of my life. The only manifestation of this anxiety existed when I had to lead therapy groups. I needed to be able to meet the challenges and do what the job required.

This was the career I had chosen, and I was determined to succeed. The sense of accomplishment that I felt in what I was doing - in being able to lead therapy groups - was rewarding and filled me with joy.

I had come a long way in my journey over these past 12 years!

I would feel a bit of anxiety when I had to run therapy groups, but I found a way to not let it show. I knew that I was talented and had a great deal to offer. This confidence in my competency made things easier for me. I also knew that if I wasn't doing a good job, the patients would have indicated this.

All eyes were on me during the groups, and I realized they were looking at me for guidance and treatment.

People came to my therapy groups and seemed to be getting something out of it and they seemed to want to listen to me.

Four years earlier, when I first arrived in Wilmington, I read my poetry to groups of people. I had stood up in a room and declared my love for Lynn in a poem. Now, I was doing something similar every day on the job.

There was something amazing about the realization of this. Like everything else happening in my life at this time, I didn't take anything for granted. I had a sense of awe whenever I reflected upon these things... and I did reflect upon everything that was happening.

I should say something about the setting... where I was working.

Brynn Marr Psychiatric Hospital was located near the Marine base at Camp Lejeune. Many of the patients were affiliated with the Marine base but not all, obviously.

One might imagine that post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) was a common problem that patients were confronting when they were in the hospital since there are veterans and veteran families. Combat experience can cause PTSD, obviously.

That being said, there were not that many veterans with PTSD that I treated. It could be that most veterans are men and it's harder for men to talk about traumatic experiences.

I saw a large number of women who were patients at the hospital and most of them had no military or combat experience.

I did work with one patient who reported that he thought he might have PTSD due to past combat experience and his fears and concerns were related to events that might have a basis in traumatic events and experiences during combat.

As I listened to him, it became more and more obvious that he was actually suffering from a psychotic disorder.

You have to keep your mind open and listen to others. You can't have pre-conceived notions such as assuming that a story that sounds like a traumatic combat memory is that. The location where Brynn Marr was located did not dictate how I thought about the experiences or patients. In other words, I didn't look for trauma disorders.

Anyway, as I was saying above, I knew that I was good at what I do. I knew I was competent and talented. That's an amazing feeling. I had a tremendous amount of passion for helping others and I had a tremendous amount of compassion and empathy.

Lynn's mother, Diane, was not burdened by the kind of religious dogma to which I was subjected. That was why she had no problem with buying a home, as an investment and renting the home to us. This was a decision she made after Lynn and I got engaged. This decision by Diane to buy a house coincided with her offer to allow us to rent the home. It was an investment for Diane because she only charged $200 for rent - $100 each from me and Lynn.

I should clarify that Diane clarified that she was doing this for us to live as husband and wife. Lynn was still working when this was done, and I was going to graduate school.

The discussion with Diane about the rent was more along the lines of what we both could afford as opposed to a conversation about two people having separate finances. Lynn and I had maintained our own bank accounts due to her need to qualify for her health care insurance. They look at resources in addition to income. That doesn't mean that either of us had kept anything a secret regarding our bank accounts and how much was in them. I always explained everything I spent with Lynn because she was very practical, and she expected me to do so.

Anyway, I knew that Diane wanted her daughter to enjoy all the benefits of marital life. That meant that she expected us to have a healthy sex life together when she bought a home for us where we could live as husband and wife.

Here is the thing about why I am breaking with tradition and discussing intimate things. It was an issue for me due to some religious brainwashing. Only on rare occasions, maybe 2 or 3 times during the entire many years that Lynn and I lived together did it occur but that was too much. I may have had some doubts about what we were doing intimately due to those "traditional" values. I mostly understood that there was nothing normal about our circumstances and that the moral ideas about not making love outside marriage could not apply in this situation.

That being said, on about 3 occasions I shamefully gave voice to a bizarre concern that we were acting immorally by not being married.

Anyway, it's not like Lynn's mother said something like, "I expect you to have a healthy sex life together." However, there were so many little ways that I knew this. I'll expand upon this below.

That was so refreshing for me. It honestly never occurred to me that any aspect of our life should be avoided when Diane was present. We picked out a bed together. Diane bought the bed for us. She bought a home with one bedroom.
 

That was so refreshing for me. It honestly never occurred to me that any aspect of our life should be avoided when Diane was present. We picked out a bed together. Diane bought the bed for us. She bought a home with one bedroom.

She was there to help us decorate the bedroom and the bath area – one bedroom. A bathroom right next to the bedroom and closed off from the rest of the house. One closet. Things would not have occurred the same way with my family and It's probably why in many families a mother or parents are not present when their son or daughter is furnishing or decorating their bedroom area.

I just knew that if Diane had heard about my religious brainwashing, she would have been mad. So, Lynn protected me in that regard on those very rare instances where I expressed some doubts about how we expressed our love for one another. 

Some of what we did together as we were furnishing and decorating the bedroom was interesting. I wanted to convey my love and desire for Lynn and for her mother to see this.

We shared a mischievous look, a brief kiss, as I gently pulled Lynn to me with her mother right nearby. As we looked at the shower area there was more of the same. I stopped to take in the sight of Lynn imagining seeing her naked body walking from the shower, obviously looking dreamy as Lynn was talking to her mother at this point.

I didn't have to tell Diane that "I am thinking about seeing your daughter naked." We didn't have to say "this is where we will have sex" as we looked at the bed together. To me, I was thinking that I was free to be comfortable about these matters even though Lynn's mother was right there with us and it seemed more important to demonstrate my intent to make Lynn feel good as we expressed our love for one another sexually.

This was happening at some point after we got engaged. Lynn and I had slept together, including at times when her mother had been visiting – Diane still lived out of state at this point and would come and stay in the home where Lynn lived on Wrightsville Beach. When I say we slept together before we moved in together, I don't mean we had sex and so I had not seen all of Lynn, yet. We had not yet had fully nude genital contact. The only erogenous zone I had seen was her breasts.

I had a sense that Diane had a knowledge that this would be how things would work out if Lynn had fallen in love – that if the state knew that she was married she would lose her insurance which was not an option.

I know that Lynn and her mother discussed everything. Yeah, the very specific topic of how Lynn was going to make sure she didn't get pregnant was an issue that I learned about later, but it did NOT take me by surprise.

I felt like I could have stated that Lynn would protect her health but that wouldn't make sense. Diane knew that Lynn was aware of her health concerns.

That conversation about how Lynn and I would make sure she didn't get pregnant did not occur when I was present, but I knew that she wanted Lynn to be happy. This taboo around sex was my brainwashing. I was more afraid of Diane finding out that I had these doubts about making love with Lynn.

I remember a conversation I had with Lynn sometime later. It was about a conversation she had with her mother.

Lynn's health was such that she could not support another life. She had problems with digestion. So, I just asked her, "when you and your mother talk about our sexual relations what do you say?"

Her answer was "she just wants to know that I am not going to get pregnant."

"Okay, so what did you say?" I asked.

"I just told her not to worry ... we are careful," she answered.

I thought "Okay, that makes sense." My response was, "okay," and then I smiled.

"What?" she asked.

"It's great that you can talk about this and that she wants you to be happy."

When Lynn and I had this conversation, we had been having sex for a while. It was beautiful to note that Lynn did not wait for me to initiate sex on these occasions. This reflects the fact that I wanted to know that Lynn loved and desired me.

You might recall that I had been uncertain earlier when we first started seeing each other, about whether Lynn was interested in me as much as I was interested in her. That is what I mean here but in a slightly different context.

Lynn also needed and hungered for closeness. It was an expression of our relationship which this book is about – relationships and connections.

That need for closeness was complicated by the need to make sure that she doesn't get pregnant. It might sound bizarre therefore when you hear her say "oh, sweetie, you are too close" in a voice full of the sexual passion of the moment. It just meant "I can't get pregnant."

I wondered "had Lynn kept the details about how we were making sure that she didn't get pregnant to herself and not shared them with her mother to protect her from thinking about some aspect of intimacy that had to be avoided by us?"

I kept the reality of just how serious her illness was out of my mind as much as possible. 

The early morning hours were a blur as I was hauled off to jail. I walked on autopilot, my mind unable to process the reality of what was happening.

The truth—the only thing I had left—felt like it was slipping through my fingers. The truth collided with the reality of my situation. The police, who were supposed to protect me, now held me captive. Just hours ago, I had been the helpless victim of a brutal attack, begging for help and justice against the ferocious creature that attacked me. And yet here I was, locked away behind bars, treated as if I were the one at fault.

The cell door was cold and heavy, closing with an echoing clang like I was sealed within a steel coffin. I was still wearing the padded suicide outfit, a degrading garment designed to strip away any remaining shreds of my dignity. While I am not a deity, I can use the word crucifixion because of the humiliation and punishment despite having down no wrong.

It seemed like the nightmare I couldn't wake from was now my cruel reality. I vacillated between numbness, having gone away in my mind, and bitterly weeping. Sleep was nearly impossible, and hopelessness was a heavy weight on my heart and lungs.

Shattered by Shame

Although I couldn't fully comprehend it at the time, I knew that eventually I would feel anger towards Ana for her actions. However, in this moment, all I could feel was an overwhelming sense of shame and disbelief. She had deceived others and ruined my reputation, making me into a villain rather than a victim. The detectives had bought her lies without hesitation, and she had manipulated reality to make it appear as though the opposite of the truth were true.

In the morning, a guard escorted me to the medical area of the jail, where I received my prescribed medications. But what stuck with me most was my meeting with the social worker. The words she spoke replayed in my mind over and over like a cruel refrain: "No matter what happens, there will always be people who believe you're guilty." The finality of her statement weighed heavily on me.

Even if the truth of my innocence and victimization were proven, the accusation would always leave a stain that could never fully be washed away. It would be forever etched into criminal database records, following me wherever I went.

The Arraignment

I was shuffled into a courtroom with others awaiting arraignment. The scene was chaos—lawyers rushing from one defendant to another, prosecutors skimming over cases they knew little about. I tried desperately to catch the attention of one of the public defenders, a woman I thought might help. I tried desperately to get her to listen to my story: how I had been covered in blood, how I was the victim, how none of this made sense.

She barely looked at me. “Tell this to your lawyer when you’re assigned one,” she said briskly, moving on to someone else. I was left standing there, hollow, and helpless. My voice didn’t matter here. My innocence didn’t matter.

How many times must I be victimized? First it was by Ana, then the detectives, now this lawyer who is supposed to represent those who are supposed to be innocent until proven guilty.

Abandoned by Family

I clung to the hope that my family would save me. Surely, my parents—flawed as our relationship was—wouldn’t let me face this alone. I called them, my voice shaking with desperation. “Mom, Dad, please help me. I can’t be here. I can’t cope with this.”

Their response was chillingly detached. My father’s voice was flat and emotionless: “No, we can’t afford it.”

I pleaded, explaining the charges, the $75,000 bail, and what this would mean for my future. Nothing moved them. Not my pain, not my fear, not my utter desperation. Even strangers might have shown more compassion than my own family.

I thought of the scene in Return of the Jedi, where Luke, writhing in agony, cries out, “Father, please help me!” Even Darth Vader, a symbol of evil, had been moved to act to save his son. But my family? They left me to rot.

Reality vs. Truth

After returning to the jail, I learned about the reason for the charges against me: kidnapping and second-degree sexual offense. I saw Ana’s statement, her lies crafted into a version of events that didn’t come close to matching reality. And there had been witnesses. They were not in the room after she locked herself inside with me, but they would have seen and heard enough.

She claimed I had pulled her into my room and attacked her. But none of it made sense. Witnesses saw her enter willingly. The layout of my apartment didn’t match her story. The physical evidence—my blood covering the room—contradicted her every word. And yet, none of that seemed to matter.

In jail, the truth was meaningless. Reality was what the system decided it to be, and that narrative would replace the truth.

The Weight of Fear

The broadcast news made things worse. Inmates get curious about why someone is there. Since I was not being treated as the victim that I was, the news reporters in my part of the world had no obligation to protect the identity of the accused.

How much more insanely terrifying can a story get? News reporters would feel obligated to protect the identity of a victim, even though the so-called victim was actually the perpetrator. The news reporters had no such obligation to protect my identity as a victim because I was falsely assumed to be the perpetrator.

They reported on the case, referring to Ana as “a girl,” as if she were some innocent child instead of a 26-year-old woman. The narrative painted me as the predator and her as the helpless victim. In jail, the word “sexual offense” carried weight. It marked me as a target.

I shared my story with some of the other inmates. I was already in so much shock that someone had to explain that they had to protect me because the news had made it appear that I had sexually harmed a child.

I might have faced violence in the jail for having been believed to have harmed a child sexually. Some of the inmates knew the truth and protected me from potential harm.

I couldn’t help think that so many women are actual victims of sexual violence. It is a heinous crime. I had helped them heal. And Ana had targeted me!

How evil is that?!

This added to the complexity of this case and the reversal of truth and justice.

My case defied so many expectations and the normal way in which women are usually the victims. Yet, she was most definitely the violent perpetrator and I was the true victim.

With the news falsely characterizing her as a girl, this put me at risk and added to the threat that I actually faced and the perceptions I had of threats.

My body was stuck in survival mode, my heart pounding in my chest as my mind zigzagged between panic and despair throughout the day.

I found myself surrounded by dangerous individuals, people who had committed violent crimes, when I unexpectedly encountered a man who had been on death row.

In an eerie twist of fate, I had previously crossed paths with the sister of his cellmate on death row back when I worked as a Social Worker III, essentially a therapist, at the mental health center in Duplin County. This man, whom I met at the Durham County Jail, was here for a new trial. Somehow, I discovered that his cellmate was Johnny Street Parker.

In the tight-knit community of Clinton, NC, news spread quickly, and everyone knew one another. It felt almost inevitable when one of my clients, the sister of Johnny Street Parker, walked into my office wearing oversized sunglasses, her shoulders slumped, as though she wanted to disappear. Her brother, according to what I had read, had brutally murdered a man with an axe—a crime tangled with drugs. The victim, who was gay, had been emasculated; the details of how this was accomplished with an axe were unclear, but the victim's mutilated body part had been left at the bottom of a staircase.

I could sense the heavy burden of shame weighing on my client, the deep embarrassment of being related to someone known for such a horrific act.

Years after my time at Duplin-Sampson County Mental Health, I found myself face-to-face with this man who had spent time in a cell alongside Johnny Street Parker. On death row! He had kidnapped a guy with his girlfriend who killed the guy to impress him. He was here for a retrial.

I felt like an outsider, lost in a place that was like I had been kidnapped.

As I sat alone in my cell, my mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts. I had never been in a fight—not once. Yet here I was, caught up in a situation based on a lie. I had used a punching bag before, for exercise and to manage stress, imagining scenarios where I stood up for myself. But in reality, I had always shied away from confrontation, afraid of causing harm.

Memories of living with Lynn came flooding back, along with the times I hit the bag after an intense argument. Lynn would often follow me, insisting, "I am not done talking," as she entered the garage. My reaction was always the same—immediately halting my punches, driven by an instinct that occurred faster than conscious thought, terrified of even the slightest chance of hurting her.

Unimaginable! Of course, I loved her and didn't want to harm her, but the instinct to stop was more profound than love—it was an innate aversion to violence. The same instinctively gentle hands held Celta, who was even more fragile than Lynn. I remembered the moment we posed for a photo, and Celta began to fall. In a fraction of a second, before my mind could plan, my body moved to catch her without causing harm.

The notion of me as someone who could inflict pain was almost laughable if it weren't so tragically real. Yet, it was this very idea that now defined my current predicament, leaving me caught between my peaceful nature and the harsh reality surrounding me.

So many days and nights consisted of me in my cell alone wondering if I would receive medications. If I was actually let out of my cell, if the nurse did not forget my medications when she came, I could ask for a pain killer or another medication that existed as a prn. medication.

The mere existence of this ability to request prn medications for unusual distress was an anomaly in the circumstances that were characterized by indifference. It is an understatement to say that this did not reflect the notion that people are innocent until proven guilty.

It may have been good or bad, it’s hard to tell. The time when I had a blister that made walking painful. I must have gotten my socks and shoes wet coming from the shower. Eventually I was taken to see the nurse and given something for the pain and the blister was treated. 

Desperation and Questions

Would I ever be free? Would I ever find someone who could love me, knowing the accusations that would always linger? Would anyone see me as more than this false image Ana had created? The questions consumed me.

I was writing letters to my assigned lawyer, pouring out my side of the story, hoping someone—anyone—would listen. The waiting felt endless. The truth felt useless. And the system, like my family, seemed intent on leaving me to fend for myself.

“The truth was all I had, but it wasn’t enough. The system had already decided who I was, and nothing I said or did seemed to matter. I was left alone with my thoughts, the toxic shame of my past colliding with the weight of this new betrayal. I was no longer a person—I was a case number, a defendant, a shadow of who I used to be. Would justice ever find me? Or would I be forever trapped in this lie?”