TW: mentions sexual assault with general descriptions; much was left out intentionally.
It’s been about a year since I last spoke to my ex-therapist, and a little over a month since the last email. It’s still raw and hard to navigate the emotional toll this has taken, and so many before me. I feel like a fool for not leaving sooner, and at the same time, the breadcrumbing was effective in keeping me around, until it wasn’t.
I was looking at some messages from June 2023, both to and from my ex-therapist, and I went on a pretty big rant on how I was miserable, not getting better, and was tired of all of it, especially eating. Then it devolved in some descriptions of myself that weren’t family-friendly. That was about 6 months after the first red flags. I’ve got a lousy history when it comes to listening to my gut.
In 1987 (Jan 10), I was raped, sodomized, and beaten for 6 hours with ‘him’, his fists, and a wine cooler bottle, in Austin, Texas. I’d lived in that apartment for 10 days after getting out of the hospital, where I’d been in traction for 10 days for a back injury. It was the uncle of a baby I took care of during the day while working as a RN at night. He lied his way to my apartment, with a convincing story. I met him briefly when I stopped by to get my car at the old apartment, and then asked the baby’s mom if she’d clean my old apartment for me, paid of course. Her brother was there, and I said hi, but was mostly enjoying watching the baby crawling around their apartment. She told me before I’d ended up in the hospital that her brother was getting out of jail, and would be staying with them. I asked what he’d been in jail for, and she told me that it was ‘wrong place, wrong time’. That’s probably the story he told her. She wasn’t 20 yet, and I was 23, and had no clue about criminal matters aside from my figure skating coach’s six kids being murdered by her husband when I was 14. I was naive, and wanted to help based on the story he told me. It was plausible. I was uneasy, but went to pick him up anyway. I knew he didn’t have a car. I later found out about his prior crimes, going back to his teens, and always reoffending when on parole.
Eventually, Numbnuts (what I call the rapist) passed out, and I slowly got up to go to the bathroom; I could tell I was still bleeding. He stirred and asked if he and the knife needed to come along, and I stated “Where would I go naked?” It wasn’t a question. He agreed to let me go alone. I was still bleeding quite a bit, and knew I had to get help, so walked back towards the bedroom and saw he was sleeping again, and turned around, grabbed a bath towel, and took off out of the apartment. I ran down the stairs, feeling like he was directly behind me, and then knocked on the neighbors’ door (I’d met Mr a few days earlier, and Mrs the day before). I explained that I’d been raped and he was still upstairs, and asked to use their phone. Mrs grabbed my arm and pulled me inside, locking the door behind me.
Police began to show up, and a rookie went in, got beat up and thrown out of the apartment (sounded like full on war upstairs as I sat in the neighbors’ apartment). He yelled for someone to call 911 again, and find out where the rest of the police units were. By this time, media started rolling in, and once I made the 2nd call, several additional police showed up. About that time, the ambulance folks came to see how I was doing, and I’m pretty sure I’d gone into shock by then. I could see several police officers with weapons drawn aiming at my balcony upstairs. I didn’t hear the gunshots, but was told that a sergeant had shot Numbnuts (in my bedroom). Then the helicopter showed up to take him to the hospital. He wasn’t killed, so I had to testify for the State, and after lunch, the ADA told me that he wanted to change his plea to guilty. I wouldn’t accept the 40 years being offered, and when they asked what I would accept, I said nothing less than 60 years, since he’d be eligible for parole in 20 years, which was the same as a life sentence at the time of the crime. If only I’d listened to that ‘uneasy’ feeling. I know that nothing excuses what he did, and that me trying to be nice wasn’t a crime, but it was a hard lesson learned. He’d planned to dismember me alive, and turns out I looked like his ex-wife.
Anyway, the one thing I hang onto from all of that was that I have survived. I hate the term ‘victim’ (and state of mind that can go along with it), and was able to see how I was played that day that was almost my last. I survived, and that’s what matters. I just wish I knew how to move into a more ‘survivor’ mentality with what’s gone on with the ex-therapist. Emotionally, this is harder than the rape because it was someone I knew personally, or thought I could trust what I’d seen from a 30+ year old news show. When 2 people know each other, even if only messages and by phone, and have for several years, it’s not random. When that other person knows many, many personal stories of abuse, neglect, and abandonment, and then does the same in an employment situation, it’s egregious (remember, I paid her for a specific reason). The dependency that was encouraged and ‘groomed’ also means that the one with the power has ‘turned off’ some of the ‘adult’ in their target, by design. It hurts- and that’s what I’m working on fixing in myself.
At the same time, I still blame myself, even if that’s so completely illogical in this situation, where someone who has done this repeatedly for 40 years is still doing it. A type of serial offender. I know that in this situation, I didn’t have the ‘power’ on my side. She was the one who made decisions, and impacted those in her crosshairs. There’s no professional agency to report to because she never had formal credentials. The international end of this is also frustrating (I don’t recommend seeing anyone who isn’t licensed in the country where the paying party lives).. So, I’m eager to get to the place where I feel more like a survivor. I’m not interested in anything that would mean having to have any future contact, and it saddens me that the person I initially was in contact with was playing her role in starting to control as much of my life as possible. It was about personal gain, from my perspective. There’s more to that, but I’m not up for more tonight.
I’m no longer a victim of ex-therapist, so that’s a start. I removed myself from the offensive situation before I was too brainwashed to do so, and I’m thankful that I was in a position to do so since I live thousands of miles away, and was never physically held captive. That’s another win, though a slow one that cost more than money. I’ve survived most of my life. I’d like to know, even if not for all that long considering my age, what it’s like to live.
