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I’m not sure what to say. It’s such a mashup of emotions at this point. The me at the beginning didn’t see any red flags. It felt like I was talking to the person from the mid-late 90s on “20/20”. The tone was kind and gentle, and when calls were supposed to happen, they did (within a flexible interpretation of punctuality, but they happened). I was being told what to eat and the amounts to eat, which did vary because of the lack of standard measuring and I understand the reason behind that, to minimize the focus on ‘numbers’. I needed to know for carbs and insulin doses, as well as protein limits. I still laughed back then, and truly enjoyed many conversations. I assumed that the ‘therapy’ part was dependent on getting through more of the food issues. I didn’t know that the phone calls were the therapy. It took me quite a while to figure that out. Per your wellness scale, I never got past the early part of Stage 2. Now, I’m back to my ‘usual’ restricting.
During the messages before starting officially in June 2022, I’d discussed my history of eating disorders and health issues. What I hadn’t appreciated was my absolute cluelessness about how the way my family dealt with food being so engrained that my “normal” was basically a starvation ‘diet’. “Active” restricting was more like a metabolic apocalypse. But my folks were under-eating as well, so it wasn’t specifically aimed at me- it was how they viewed food. One thought it was not much more than an obligatory expense, and the other saw manipulating food as a way to lose weight (same pounds over and over). After a few days of starting, I was asked if I remembered ‘normal’ eating, and I did not. I wanted to trust what I was being told, and at the same time, I just saw someone in the mirror who was so gross, eating more made no sense. Every trip to the kitchen was like pouring salt on an open wound. Everything I’d learned as a kid, and through my own continuation of the family food rules starting when I was in high school were my normal. I was searching for the secret language of normal eating. So, I turned to YouTube at some point in 2023.
In late December of 2022, there was the discussion of paying double for more intensive contact, and I was agreeable, hoping it would shave time off of the back end. Then in January 2023, there was radio silence. I had no idea where anyone was. I did get in contact with my buddy, and she let me know that everyone was OK, but there had been a ‘surprise’ patient from Oceania. When I was told his weight (later heard that was his lowest weight, not his arrival weight, so sneaky bit of wordsmith there), I couldn’t believe that there hadn’t been enough planning on how to get that person to Europe safely- and that I’d been asked to pay double when a new patient who wasn’t stable (what I was told) was needing more time than was available in a day. He was my more intensive time. I asked about postponing the intensive time until he was doing better, and was told no; both could happen at the same time, but that’s not how it turned out. Being told his weight also caused me so much shame for eating at all. THAT is why I stopped sending photos of what I was eating; I was ashamed.
At one point earlier in 2023, I hadn’t eaten what I was supposed to, and as per instructions that was reported back to you. I got a call from you with a very short, angry tone telling me not to take an hour to finish a cracker, and getting a list of things to eat barked at me. It wasn’t a tone I was used to, and frankly it scared me. But any time I said I wanted to stop, I was told I wasn’t in any state to make those decisions, or that you wouldn’t allow me to leave. I was fortunate not to be a physical hostage, but the level of emotional control was toxic.
Things would get better for a while, and then the pattern of not getting calls I was told were going to happen got to be routine. I quit waiting. IF the phone rang, OK. If not, I wasn’t waiting around, when I could use limited energy for laundry, taking out the trash, taking a shower, getting mail, getting groceries delivered and put away, as well as just plain relaxing into a quiet evening. I repeatedly asked that I not be told of any plans to talk until it was time to talk. Had that been honored, it would have at least felt like what I needed mattered. But instead, the on-and-off again crap just started to fester.
Then the recording of the audiobook started in late Summer 2023, as well as the videos for a website that never happened in spite of numerous deadlines, which meant I never knew when I’d hear from you, mixed with the odd question here and there about what I was eating, but in that department I was pretty much on my own since managing diabetes, kidney disease, and gout for food related issues were beyond what was comfortable for you. I get it – it’s a lot. I live with that 3 miserable times a day. It took many, many months for the videos/ audiobooks to be completed- or that’s what I was told. To me, the impact was like being put on a shelf somewhere. Out of sight, out of mind.
You were between countries every few months, so that was more time to get things settled there. In the meantime, I was looking more and more online for SOME consistent help, and found some good YouTube channels by eating disorder coaches or those who were recovering, with information that was new to me, but not to the ‘eating disorder world’. Between overt relapses I didn’t look for information about EDs (so 1997-2021). I began to see that the 90s had never ended for you. Nothing adapted. Nothing was current, and yet i was never told more about CNC or anything else that was your brand. But you had time for patients living with you, who started after I did. That just made me feel so “less than”. You spent the last 2 months of 2023 dealing with your own health issues. I won’t give specifics here. One thing (not relating to you) was when you said someone in the house had “a flu”, and described gastrointestinal issues. The actual flu is a respiratory virus. There can be some GI symptoms, but without respiratory symptoms, it’s not influenza, but more likely gastroenteritis from mild food poisoning. I kept my mouth shut. But many medical scenarios you told me simply didn’t make sense. The chipping away at what little trust remained became more difficult to ignore. Yet, I tried.
In January 2024, I began keeping a log of when you said you’d call vs when you actually did, because I didn’t believe my own perceptions. Turns out I was being generous in my estimates. Sometimes you’d call several times a week, then disappear again with more empty plans to call- with very specific wording … “I want to call” isn’t a commitment. Always a loophole.. Messages weren’t seen for several days. While the monthly fee had been renegotiated, I was running out of patience with when any therapy was going to happen. In late September 2024, I told you that my last month to pay would be December 2024 because I was out of funds. I was quitting.
You begged me to stay another year, without being charged. I reluctantly agreed, and got what I paid for… The requests for money for personal reasons for you or N started almost immediately. Between October 2, 2024 and March 24, 2025, I sent $2200.00 in 3 non-therapy payments to N’s account (shouldn’t have needed money for healthcare in a country where it’s universal). You asked me for more money (I’ll have to add up the screenshot messages), but I was tapped out. Those payments took away from what I needed, and that’s on me for being a fool. Save the whole bit about paying me when the book is published. From your own blog in 2013, it’s been imminent. When I started in June 2022, you said later that year, in September.
In March 2025, I was in the middle of some scary stuff with my heath, and you were asking for money for some reported “Shark Tank” type thing. Said they’d turned a US company into a billion dollar one. I didn’t believe much at that point. I was given some potentially life-ending information about 2 things that were ‘off’. I sent screenshots to you so you’d know what was going on- and things were serious enough that palliative had been brought up. Here, palliative is about comfort and quality of life, and allows for medical intervention. Hospice does not. I had multiple procedures under general anesthesia or being knocked out with propofol that year for diagnosing what was going on, and fortunately I got really good news with the GYN issue. Then you started deflecting anything I said about my medical stuff with your own, that were almost echoing mine, but you did not get them dealt with..
When my dog was in her last weeks, I was so saddened to know that my one true and constant ‘connection’ wasn’t going to be around for long. On May 22, 2025, she went quietly in my arms. At least she was at peace. It started the loneliest times I think I’ve ever felt. You were MIA more than around, and after the final ‘ask’ for $1000 didn’t happen, I’d get a phone call a month. Messages weren’t seen for up to a week, but you wanted control over food again. That’s just delusional where I come from. Classic breadcrumbing – a form of emotional control….for those who submit to being controlled. It woke me up a bit more… all of that time of no contact made ME stronger.
When the colonoscopy showed a large polyp that they didn’t take out (said the prep wasn’t good enough, yet nothing came through me for another 4 days), and wanted to repeat the scope to get it out, I was beside myself with panic. The first prep had been excruciating. You KNOW I don’t complain about pain as much as it’s going on (chronic daily pain since 1995). You blew off my SOS call, even though you’d gotten off of, or didn’t call to start with when others had emergency calls they needed answering. I was literally getting messages from the GI doc I’d seen to schedule the scope, doc who did the scope, and 2 nurses wanting me to get the repeat colonoscopy scheduled right then. When I sent that in a message, you called back quickly, and told me to message the next day and you’d call so we could talk about possible ways to get through the now doubled prep (when I hadn’t gotten 3/4 through the first one). When I messaged you, it was “I’ll check my schedule”. Seriously. I have a polyp that they have noted as being high risk for turning malignant, and you have to check a schedule when you’d been telling me for months that you were too ill to have patients (yet had 2 living with you). What fucking schedule? When I got that message about checking your schedule, the entire curtain came down around the wizard at the phony control panel. It was a physical sensation of being kicked in the gut while my heart dropped. .
The only thing I was thinking about at that point was hell no. I’m done and need to protect myself. And I have been. Sad it was and is from someone who I thought would help me get well. Instead, I’m purposely not getting medical stuff dealt with, hoping that I’ll be reunited with my dogs and parents as soon as my body is over waking up (parents being the ones who raised me as fallible humans do, who did things from a place of being broken, not calculated and deliberately to manipulate and control). After several months of no contact ( seven ?) I agreed to emails, but I kept things as superficial as possible. Need any more information on MREs ??
The last email from you (around Sept 2nd or 3rd, 2026) was a few days after the article came out, and I don’t think I’d seen it yet. I just can’t comprehend how someone can sabotage their own reputation for decades with the lives of others (who made it) being used for personal gain. That’s some 47 shit. Could that be why you don’t sleep a lot? But at least I was aware of things that weren’t right and have so many screenshots going back years, as well as exported WhatsApp transcripts from both phones. I hated feeling the need for proof of interactions. I hate that I feel betrayed by someone who went on and on about nurturing deficits, abandonment and attachment issues, and the whole spiel about the tragedies of adoption- and did NOTHING to help resolve them.. I wrote to you directly about how I was feeling for months, long emails, and you never saw them until I was over anything to do with you. That was really hard. You’d quit me long before I quit you.
The me who has had time to see the way this all unfolded is sad that you choose to treat people like disposable property. I miss being able to laugh like I used to. The things you did see that I’d written about my frustrations and doubts were met with sarcastic and self-serving victimhood when YOUR choices determined mine. I pray for those who are too weak-minded right now to see that they’re props in your life, because you’ve made them that way. It’s going to be so hard for them when they’re finally back in the real world. I’m sad for them. I’ve been a survivor longer than you’ve been “treating” people, and that doesn’t stop now.
I can survive you. I just wish I’d been worth enough to follow through helping me get well. And I’m SO glad I woke up before I was any more broken.