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It should be noted that I grew up in a home that was characterized by abuse. This included physical abuse by my mother mostly, though my father did assault me, including punching mne in the stomach. I knew this was wrong and that it was not punishment for anything that we had done. It was not like getting a spanking.
This was not happening in the 90s when I moved in with them before I started my life as an adult. My brother, John Whealton, stood up to them the most.
After the loss of my relationship with Lynn, I had too much shame to process the fact that they had not been there for comfort or compassion. I had chosen Lynn as "the one" knowing she had a terminal genetic illness which she was born with. I had lived with the idea that she and I would be together for a long time... the events that began in July of 2000 were not predictable and not expected. I was taken by shock.
A meteor had crashed into my perfect life.
My First Experience of Injustice
I had gone through the injustice of being falsely accused with no evidence of harrassing phone calls by John Freifeld. The charges were appealed by me because what he claimed did not occur. There were no voicemail recordings and no call records. Yet, still, I was dragged down to Wilmington, in late 2001 like I was a dangerous animal - the vehicle had a metalic box-like container with plus sign like markers on the walls, ceiling and floor.
It was humiliating. This was prior to my experience of being assaulted by Ana which opens up this book.
I hardly had any belongings. I believe I left some things with some friends up in Durham that I didn't want to lose. These were photo negatives and CDs that could not be replaced. Back then everything was not digital and automatically backed up to the cloud.
I was not held in jail long because it was just a misdemeanor but I had to find shelter in Wilmington. This had once been my home.
Unfortunately, John is very charismatic, and my lawyer and I underestimated that. John represented himself in the matter. My lawyer demonstrated inept legal counsel by going to trial right away. I wasn't thinking until after the trial that he should have gotten the phone records.
Since this never happened, obviously Freifeld had no recording to present as evidence. The judge found me not guilty of the cyberstalking - the judge threw that claim out. However, just on the word of Freifeld, he found me guilty of the harassing phone calls.
I was livid as I left the courtroom. My lawyer asked, "do you want me to appeal this? Do you want me to get the phone records?"
I was thinking, "now you are thinking of that?" I answered, "yes, appeal it. And, yes, get the phone records. This did not happen!"
It was a matter of principle. It was wrong!
I started going to the mental health center in Durham for therapy. It was all that I could afford.
Like other victims, I felt wretched and ashamed. I felt like I didn't deserve to exist. I had nothing to offer the world, I thought.
I needed some support from my family because I couldn't stay with Ruth and David long. So, I asked Ruth to explain the situation to my parents. She tried desperately to explain to my mother the cruelty of John and how he is able to convince people to do bad things. She said, "there was a time when if John said the sky was pink, I would believe it and see the sky pink."
It didn't matter, my parents didn't care at all.
On top of that, I found out that I missed a court appointment in Wilmington. The lawyer who represented me in the case of Freifeld's lies that I made harassing phone calls to him had appealed the judge's verdict and he had a new court date, but he had not been able to reach me. This is why I was being transported in chains to Wilmington as I was describing at the beginning of this chapter.
I had reached out for support from my family while I was in Durham to get out of jail. I called my parents because I thought they cared about me and I knew they would understand the fear I felt. Whatever minimal compassion that might have had in the past was now gone. They didn't give a damn about what was happening to their son.
I had no idea why I was being treated this way by my own family!
As I was saying, I ended up being brought down to Wilmington in chains, inside a metallic cage or box that looked like it had been put on the back of a pickup truck.
My nightmare was in full swing now. Day in and day out I was living in hell.
It was humiliating and shameful to be treated like this. I was pissed at my parents as well. They had lacked compassion and empathy in the past but this was a new low for them.
The message my own family was sending was that it's okay to hurt Bruce because nothing will happen to you. Go ahead, hurt Bruce.
I did get out of jail but was left down in Wilmington for a while. I didn't know what to do or where to go. My own family for reasons unknown to me did not offer any support at all. I don't know why I still expected them to care.
I felt so ashamed of my wretched condition as I wandered the streets of Wilmington. I had no home and nowhere to turn for help. It was cold and I was wet and limping about.
I had all my belongings in a couple of bags. It was coming into the winter with snow falling at Thanksgiving that year. My friend Jean invited me to dinner with his wife and family - his mother was there. I was so ashamed to be carrying all my belongings and looking like a street person or a homeless bag lady.
I tossed my belongings behind a bush outside the restaurant where Jean offered to treat me to a meal with his family. We had been friends for years. Jean was the friend that I met my first week in Wilmington back in 1992 - a mutual friend of Lynn and me.
I was feeling so overwhelmed by my circumstances. I couldn't think straight. Where should I go? What should I do? I was just wandering around, and it felt traumatic for me. It felt like I didn't matter as a human being. No one seemed to give a damn about me.
I was too ashamed to know how to seek support or friendship. I felt wretched. I wanted to scream out to the world or to God, "Help me! Please!"
At one point I called the police to ask for help - where to go for shelter during the day. I knew that when I was an intern I worked for the homeless program and they had a day program. When the police officer arrived he gave me a copy of the "street sheet." This is what I had developed for the homeless program back when I was still an intern.
Eventually, I did go to the mental health center in Wilmington (New Hanover County, NC) to get help to get back to Durham. I had been meeting with Vocational Rehabilitation and they said they could help me with employment. I had no other sense of what to do or where to go.
So, I found myself at the New Hanover County Mental Health Center and at the Department of Social Services to get financial assistance to get a bus trip back to Durham.
"Well, this is awkward," said the woman who sat down with me at the Southeastern Center for Mental Health Services in Wilmington.
"Yes, I used to be with the Society of Clinical Social Workers. Maybe you know me from that," I said.
"You were the president. I came to training workshops that you organized."
I felt myself tearing up. I answered "things changed so suddenly for me. It got so crazy. So much has happened. I lost everything in just one month back in August. It feels like many, many, years have passed and that was another life."
I added, " When you saw me, I had come so far. I had struggled, you know. I used to have doubts, but I found the encouragement that comes with success and the support of others."
She said something about how sad and overwhelming it must have been. Clearly, there was little need for a long conversation at this point.
I got a bus ticket and went back to Durham. If you only knew my life up until this point, you might be thinking that things can't get any worse than everything that has happened. Unfortunately, you would be wrong.