*******************
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
_____________________
Healer Abuse
October 19, 2010
I've had a few days of depression now.
Part is due to hormones.
Part is due to feeling I have no purpose. I just don't care about stuff any more.
I think some is due to not feeling connected via the web anymore to my purpose of exposing cults. I question that exposition. And, if a group is or isn't abusive.
Some of my questioning comes from my experiences with Knapp. I found myself reviewing some of the emails today. And then I went to a page by Wollersheim about how to heal from cults. One of the suggestions is to perhaps hire a therapist that specializes in that area.
Well, I did that. And got harmed.
Why did John do what he did?!? And why then did he write another a client an email stating he was open to talking with me? He's the one that cut off communication; not me! It's bizarre and leaves a very bad taste in my mouth.
I need to sit with it though. Don't write about it yet. I'll wait for the state of NY to contact me. Perhaps they will throw out my complaint, as non-legit. So be it. Then I may write some more.
At some point I must start to care for myself better.
_____________________
Request
October 23, 2010
Another day of feeling defeat, of feeling I have nothing to offer. Nothing of substance anyway.
I cried today, after finally taking a shower at 5:30 pm and getting our of my pajamas. I cried as the hot water poured on my head and down my back. The water felt good. The tears streamed; they too had a cleansing effect.
I asked myself, "What is it Carol? Why now? Why again the depression?"
I've struggled much since the beginning of August. Now the anxiety is gone. The depression is left with its low energy and dearth.
Five years ago on October 28, 2005, I officially left The Way after 28 years of loyalty. I recall a mix of emotions at the time. Fear - of the unknown, and especially of what would happen with my marriage and family. Joy - at possibly finding the Word again via Christian Family Fellowship. Grief - for loss, but of what I wasn't sure.
October, 1975. I ingested jimson seeds and lived four days of hallucinogenic hell. The after effects of that? Who knows? Today I googled the longterm side effects of such. All I found was that there isn't enough information to know the longterm effects.
Octoberish, 1978. I was a Word Over the World Ambassador apprentice Way Corps WOW Family Coordinator. I underwent an abortion sometime around that October.
October, 1980. I AWOLed from my interim year of The Tenth Way Corps. I was a WOW Team Coordinator.
October, 1983. I again AWOLed from my interim year, this time the Thirteenth Way Corps. I was on staff at Way HQ.
So. So what? Big wooped-tee-doo.
Writing that down, well, just validates to me what a fuck-up I am.
This October, I again feel like a loser. I couldn't even work with Knapp on a project. According to him, I fucked that up too.
No wonder I don't want to do anything. I can't trust myself, so how can I trust others?
Carol...you are a loser. A big time loser.
God, I wish I wouldn't awake tomorrow. I really would like to die. I feel of no value to humanity. I don't trust anymore. I don't want to trust anymore. I've raised my kids. Now let me go. Please? I have nothing more to offer.
PS: I guess I'll pop a stupid Xanax. At least it numbs the pain.
_____________________
June 29, 2011
To Write Out Loud
AWW ~ 6/29/11
non-subject: New Lesson
****
Are there ever new lessons? Or are all lessons old lessons? Lessons that are presented over and over and over?
They are not all old lessons, except perhaps to humanity.
How many lessons are transferred via soul, via cellular memory, via some sort of evolutionary mechanism that cannot be detected with current scientific instruments? How does intuition work? That sense of knowing of a path to take; yet, without knowing the details. To take action because of a nudge.
I imagine most lessons are only new for the individual, not for the species.
Like the Proverb states, "There is nothing new under the sun."
But I really don't believe that either.
This past week I have been bringing public some of my writings that have been in hiding. Writings about the events with my ex-therapist, John Knapp. I'm in process of bringing forth pennings from my personal journal from beginning in August, 2010, and memoir pennings that I've written and tucked away in private. Memoir that has been private from the public, but not necessarily from memoir workshop participants.
I had previously brought a few pieces forward, using pseudonyms, changing genders, making the stories more generic. I did that with some pieces even in the private memoir workshop.
But now, I am not using a pseudonym for John Knapp; I am using his real name.
I tremble inside almost each time I think that I am using his real name. Why do I tremble? It is not out of fear of retaliation from Knapp; I doubt he can do much about what I bring public.
In chat the other night I asked Lema, my online friend from Russia who was involved with Knapp's online board and with whom Knapp had a conflict, if from his viewpoint I was "attacking" Knapp by posting my story online?
Lema doesn't see it as an attack, but rather me telling what happened to me.
I have thought the same, that it isn't an attack; but rather it is me sharing my story. And that if I wanted to attack, I have bigger weapons than what I am posting on my little blog that hardly ever gets read.
But....
...I question my motives. Why do I put my writing public?
Again, not that many people read it; yet, what I write is searchable on internet search engines. If a person types in John M. Knapp, LMSW, as a search, some things I have posted are on the first page, one near the top. Is that an attack on Knapp?
I could say I am taking things public for some sort of noble motive like to help others not get caught in a similar situation as I found myself. But that isn't my motive. I can't keep others from getting entrapped nor do I feel much responsibility to do such.
Yet, at the same time, I find it difficult (if not impossible) to keep quiet when Knapp solicits others online regarding his services.
Part of my speaking up has to do with others Knapp has hurt. How much of a part? I don't know.
Part has to do with witnessing, so to speak. A peek into the mindset or someone journeying through life and coming out of an indoctrination system that became harmful. As I've stated elsewhere, the story from cultic influence to empowerment.
But, couldn't I tell that story using pseudonyms? I could; yet then I feel that muzzle around my heart, my being, my essence. Why is that?
Is it a selfish act that I speak out loud? Is it a selfish act to write out loud?
Perhaps part of my coming forward has to do with the deafening silence from the places beyond me of which I have no control - such as how long the investigation is taking or even if it is still being investigated. I'm not 'stressed' over that, yet the quiet causes me to think that stuff has probably fallen through the cracks. After all, I doubt my situation would be high on the list of investigative priorities.
Dr. McColloch, my current psychologist, stated last week that he, and others, are of the opinion that to share one's story helps one recover from trauma. And not just sharing it once, but as many times as needed until the impact of the trauma has healed...or at least eased.
But what it is about putting the story public that has more impact for me? Why is that? Even if no one ever reads it.
In the pieces I am bringing public, I am using pseudonyms for at least five people. Two of them want to remain anonymous. I'm not sure about two others; I guess I could ask them. One reason I am keeping the two others anonymous is that I don't want to cause tension between them and Knapp, or at least any more tension than there may already be. The fifth party I will not ask, nor use their real name. They simply got caught in the outer web of the situation, an innocent bystander.
And there are things about these people that I will not share in my public writings. I wish I could, because the events validate my own experience. They prove this Knapp's manipulative behavior is a pattern. But, for now, certain aspects will remain closed. For their privacy, not for mine.
I am no longer using pseudonyms for Lema or for Dr. McColloch.
****
non-subject: New Lesson
****
Are there ever new lessons? Or are all lessons old lessons? Lessons that are presented over and over and over?
They are not all old lessons, except perhaps to humanity.
How many lessons are transferred via soul, via cellular memory, via some sort of evolutionary mechanism that cannot be detected with current scientific instruments? How does intuition work? That sense of knowing of a path to take; yet, without knowing the details. To take action because of a nudge.
I imagine most lessons are only new for the individual, not for the species.
Like the Proverb states, "There is nothing new under the sun."
But I really don't believe that either.
This past week I have been bringing public some of my writings that have been in hiding. Writings about the events with my ex-therapist, John Knapp. I'm in process of bringing forth pennings from my personal journal from beginning in August, 2010, and memoir pennings that I've written and tucked away in private. Memoir that has been private from the public, but not necessarily from memoir workshop participants.
I had previously brought a few pieces forward, using pseudonyms, changing genders, making the stories more generic. I did that with some pieces even in the private memoir workshop.
But now, I am not using a pseudonym for John Knapp; I am using his real name.
I tremble inside almost each time I think that I am using his real name. Why do I tremble? It is not out of fear of retaliation from Knapp; I doubt he can do much about what I bring public.
In chat the other night I asked Lema, my online friend from Russia who was involved with Knapp's online board and with whom Knapp had a conflict, if from his viewpoint I was "attacking" Knapp by posting my story online?
Lema doesn't see it as an attack, but rather me telling what happened to me.
I have thought the same, that it isn't an attack; but rather it is me sharing my story. And that if I wanted to attack, I have bigger weapons than what I am posting on my little blog that hardly ever gets read.
But....
...I question my motives. Why do I put my writing public?
Again, not that many people read it; yet, what I write is searchable on internet search engines. If a person types in John M. Knapp, LMSW, as a search, some things I have posted are on the first page, one near the top. Is that an attack on Knapp?
I could say I am taking things public for some sort of noble motive like to help others not get caught in a similar situation as I found myself. But that isn't my motive. I can't keep others from getting entrapped nor do I feel much responsibility to do such.
Yet, at the same time, I find it difficult (if not impossible) to keep quiet when Knapp solicits others online regarding his services.
Part of my speaking up has to do with others Knapp has hurt. How much of a part? I don't know.
Part has to do with witnessing, so to speak. A peek into the mindset or someone journeying through life and coming out of an indoctrination system that became harmful. As I've stated elsewhere, the story from cultic influence to empowerment.
But, couldn't I tell that story using pseudonyms? I could; yet then I feel that muzzle around my heart, my being, my essence. Why is that?
Is it a selfish act that I speak out loud? Is it a selfish act to write out loud?
Perhaps part of my coming forward has to do with the deafening silence from the places beyond me of which I have no control - such as how long the investigation is taking or even if it is still being investigated. I'm not 'stressed' over that, yet the quiet causes me to think that stuff has probably fallen through the cracks. After all, I doubt my situation would be high on the list of investigative priorities.
Dr. McColloch, my current psychologist, stated last week that he, and others, are of the opinion that to share one's story helps one recover from trauma. And not just sharing it once, but as many times as needed until the impact of the trauma has healed...or at least eased.
But what it is about putting the story public that has more impact for me? Why is that? Even if no one ever reads it.
In the pieces I am bringing public, I am using pseudonyms for at least five people. Two of them want to remain anonymous. I'm not sure about two others; I guess I could ask them. One reason I am keeping the two others anonymous is that I don't want to cause tension between them and Knapp, or at least any more tension than there may already be. The fifth party I will not ask, nor use their real name. They simply got caught in the outer web of the situation, an innocent bystander.
And there are things about these people that I will not share in my public writings. I wish I could, because the events validate my own experience. They prove this Knapp's manipulative behavior is a pattern. But, for now, certain aspects will remain closed. For their privacy, not for mine.
I am no longer using pseudonyms for Lema or for Dr. McColloch.
****
Walls are Real
From the archives. Written 10/06/10
____________________
non-subject ~ trust
aww: 10/06/10
Trust? Shall I give it a go?
Currently I don't trust myself. I don't trust myself to write. I don't trust my perceptions. I don't trust my judgments.
__________________
__________________
On Saturday, I decided to write Mia and let her know that I'd mailed the complaint against Knapp. Mia too has been verbally abused by him, but she has never been a client; rather, a colleague. She had never spoken of it except to a handful of people who witnessed it. Until me.
Back in mid-August, I had shared with her my experience. I learned then that she had experienced similar.
I had mailed the complaint packet on Wednesday, September 29. At first, I only told my husband and my kids and my best friend Leah. I then, by online chat let Lema know. Lema is Chechen and lives in Russia. Lema had been the other party in the recent conflict with John.
I'm not proud for mailing a complaint packet against my ex-therapist. It turns my stomach. I feel I have to justify why I have done such a thing. I have never in my life done anything like that. I didn't even get in on the class-act law suit against the pharmaceutical company that produced the contaminated albuterol back in the early 90s. Over 350 people died. I was almost one of them as I inhaled the pseudomonos-laced mist into my suffering lungs.
I'm not the complaining or suing type.
But Knapp can't go around doing this to people, especially clients or recent previous clients or whatever I was. And I'm not suing him, though I probably could. I simply filed a complaint packet. For all I know NY state might toss it aside. At least I hope Knapp knows that I filed it. I'll soon find out.
I decided to email Mia and let her know that I had filed the complaint. I sat on the toilet with my laptop on my lap. Odd place I guess, the toilet. Commode compose. They aren't called laptops for nothing.
I typed the words: "I'm not sure how I feel right now. When I mailed everything, I felt I had at least given myself voice. I felt a relief and that I could file this away. Yet, I know the reality is that the investigator will call me and we go from there. At the moment I now feel like walking away from all of it....my cult past and all related to that. To get a new identity..."
I immediately got dizzy. My stomach turned. And the tears rolled. "Who the fuck am I?!" My heart wrenched and mind contorted. My gut hurt. I wished I could wake up from this dream that isn't a dream.
I finished the email and clicked send.
My panic continued for a couple hours. My heart didn't race. It was just the dizziness and stomach turning. The crying stopped. And then the derealization, or whatever it's called. That feeling of dreaming but one isn't dreaming. That feeling of not being real.
My husband drove the one-1/2 hours to our spot on the Blue Ridge Parkway. I rode in the passenger's seat mostly in silence. A grunt here and there, or I'd answer a question or two.
We hiked a couple miles from The Saddle overlook. We took the trail to the north that goes through the open pastures where jimson weed grows. I had my tie-died Catskills sweatshirt with me, the one I'd bought back in August while in NY.
The feeling of not being real, feeling like I had taken bad acid, lasted another seven hours.
Today I've had to remind myself that I am present. That the wall in my bathroom is real.
___________________________
*******************
Note: The above is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
June 28, 2011
*Clocks* (cover) by Red Hot Chilli Pipers
For a break from (what is to me) the *heavy* stuff I've been posting.
This version of "Clocks" is presented with bagpipes.
Time ticks on
Bagpipes of ancestry
Bellowing vibrations
Echoing eternity
Once there were sundials
Now there are clocks
Tomorrow black holes
This version of "Clocks" is presented with bagpipes.
Time ticks on
Bagpipes of ancestry
Bellowing vibrations
Echoing eternity
Once there were sundials
Now there are clocks
Tomorrow black holes
Damaged Goods
*******************
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. Some of these personal pennings could be an embarrassment to me. Yet, I endeavor to be understanding with my self. For me the events were traumatic. That (traumatic) may seem like an extreme word; it even does to me. Yet I can't deny the effects the events have had on my mental, emotional, & physical health. To be emotionally and verbally abused by one's therapist from whom one is seeking/has sought counsel for emotional and psychological abuse....I think that qualifies as 'trauma.'
********************
_____________________
It hurts me to read...
September 23, 2010
.....any of Knapp's writings.
It hurts.
I don't understand how he can be compassionate, and yet have treated me so abusively.
I feel like I was a thing that he used and then tossed aside.
It was like when Claire stayed with us. It was my fault that I allowed her to harm me. By harm me, I mean verbally shout and holler at me. Then she'd apologize...or justify her words.
John hasn't apologized. He did try to justify his actions to Louise.
I hope the complaint lets him know just how deeply my wounds have gone due to his actions.
Today I feel again like disappearing.
But I don't have to disappear.
I'll just speak my mind. Like if Nancy asks me something about Knapp, I'll just tell her. Knapp and I don't talk anymore and I can no longer endorse him.
He verbally abused me, plain and simple.
_____________________
Another Que Sera
September 26, 2010
I'm tired but can't sleep.
I've taken a Xanax and a hydrocodone.
I miss John Knapp. I do. It hurts to think he wants nothing to do with me. It hurts to think that he cannot trust me. It hurts to no longer have a working relationship with him, to have only an avoidant relationship. Which is not a relationship.
Re la tion ship. Relat ion ship. Relat ions hip.
Today, I finished getting all the emails together for my complaint. Dr. McColloch will sign it Wednesday. Then I'll send it in the mail.
Perhaps I am just a weak person. Perhaps I am too easily hurt by what others think of me.
But Knapp was my therapist, and I loved and trusted him as such. Yet, he cut me off without us ever discussing his accusations toward me. Accusations that I wasn't aware that I was guilty of. He said things that I don't know what he was referring to. Like the stuff about him being no ones guru and all that stuff. Why did he say that? I don't understand that.
And how could he say I had no compassion for him? By saying some of the things he said to me, was he not accusing me of evil intentions, harmful motives? In essence he was calling me a liar and a hypocrite, especially with the charade comment.
He was mean and hostile.
And he never apologized for anything. Yet, I did.
I was putty in his hands...emotionally.
But he was my therapist. I'm supposed to be able to trust my therapist.
I just don't understand.
I've asked myself over and over, "Why did he do this?"
The answer I finally got back from myself, "Because he is human. Because he too is damaged."
But I can't just let it slide. He has a professional responsibility.
Oh yuck. I'll be glad when I send these papers off.
Whatever the outcome, I'll take it. It will be better than living in the agony I've lived in the past two months.
_____________________
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. Some of these personal pennings could be an embarrassment to me. Yet, I endeavor to be understanding with my self. For me the events were traumatic. That (traumatic) may seem like an extreme word; it even does to me. Yet I can't deny the effects the events have had on my mental, emotional, & physical health. To be emotionally and verbally abused by one's therapist from whom one is seeking/has sought counsel for emotional and psychological abuse....I think that qualifies as 'trauma.'
********************
_____________________
It hurts me to read...
September 23, 2010
.....any of Knapp's writings.
It hurts.
I don't understand how he can be compassionate, and yet have treated me so abusively.
I feel like I was a thing that he used and then tossed aside.
It was like when Claire stayed with us. It was my fault that I allowed her to harm me. By harm me, I mean verbally shout and holler at me. Then she'd apologize...or justify her words.
John hasn't apologized. He did try to justify his actions to Louise.
I hope the complaint lets him know just how deeply my wounds have gone due to his actions.
Today I feel again like disappearing.
But I don't have to disappear.
I'll just speak my mind. Like if Nancy asks me something about Knapp, I'll just tell her. Knapp and I don't talk anymore and I can no longer endorse him.
He verbally abused me, plain and simple.
_____________________
Another Que Sera
September 26, 2010
I'm tired but can't sleep.
I've taken a Xanax and a hydrocodone.
I miss John Knapp. I do. It hurts to think he wants nothing to do with me. It hurts to think that he cannot trust me. It hurts to no longer have a working relationship with him, to have only an avoidant relationship. Which is not a relationship.
Re la tion ship. Relat ion ship. Relat ions hip.
Today, I finished getting all the emails together for my complaint. Dr. McColloch will sign it Wednesday. Then I'll send it in the mail.
Perhaps I am just a weak person. Perhaps I am too easily hurt by what others think of me.
But Knapp was my therapist, and I loved and trusted him as such. Yet, he cut me off without us ever discussing his accusations toward me. Accusations that I wasn't aware that I was guilty of. He said things that I don't know what he was referring to. Like the stuff about him being no ones guru and all that stuff. Why did he say that? I don't understand that.
And how could he say I had no compassion for him? By saying some of the things he said to me, was he not accusing me of evil intentions, harmful motives? In essence he was calling me a liar and a hypocrite, especially with the charade comment.
He was mean and hostile.
And he never apologized for anything. Yet, I did.
I was putty in his hands...emotionally.
But he was my therapist. I'm supposed to be able to trust my therapist.
I just don't understand.
I've asked myself over and over, "Why did he do this?"
The answer I finally got back from myself, "Because he is human. Because he too is damaged."
But I can't just let it slide. He has a professional responsibility.
Oh yuck. I'll be glad when I send these papers off.
Whatever the outcome, I'll take it. It will be better than living in the agony I've lived in the past two months.
_____________________
June 27, 2011
Decision to File ~ Overview
*******************
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
_____________________
And then....
September 20, 2010
...I think of scapegoating.
Am I scapegoating? I never want to scapegoat. But as a human being, I recognize that I can fall into that trap. But does that desire of not wanting to fall into that trap, does that keep me from telling my truth?
I'm not scapegoating by telling what happened. Am I?
I recall in The Way how I never wanted to be a miserable comforter. I didn't want to ever blame an individual for their suffering. But I know I did at times. I did it with myself all the time, and that is not an exaggeration. Self-blame is horrid trap.
And I find myself again in this maze, like a deer in a trap. My eyes and body darting to and fro as to which way I can get out of the maze. I'm in the center of the maze, which is just a squared-in space with unknown corridors offering a possible way out.
I feel I will stay there, in that maze, darting back and forth, until I take some sort of definitive action.
I actually read the Bible this morning. I did that thing where I just open the book and read where it lands.
It landed in Luke where Jesus confronts hypocrites. Where he speaks of God's love and God's justice...and of our own eye...the window to our soul.
I must be true to myself, or I become a hypocrite....again.
_____________________
update....
September 20, 2010
I've been recording things here, on versions, in a cryptic fashion. Well except for that one blog that I put back into draft.
As of this morning this blog, versions, has been put on private.
I will use it as a journal.
So, here goes on overview.
I saw Dr. McColloch on Wednesday, Sept. 8. It think it was Wednesday and not Thursday, 9/09. Anyway, I pretty much determined then that I would pursue reporting Knapp. I thought writing a letter to his supervisor about what happened, that that'd be how I'd approach it.
I began the letter Friday afternoon late. I ended up in a vortex, crying uncontrollably and shaking. I felt all alone. All alone.
I told myself that I wasn't alone. I had Dr. McColloch. I had Lema. I had Karen. I had Mia. All as support. I had Leah.
But I couldn't stop crying. I felt the only ones I could talk to about it would be Dr. McColloch or Karen and Lema. Lema was out because of the language barrier in spoken English. Dr. McColloch....I did't want to bother him; plus I feel I have to pay him.
Karen. I didn't want to bother her. But I couldn't stop crying and shaking. So I called. She answered. We talked for about 1/2 hour. Or I guess I mainly talked, in between crying. I felt so awful.
Karen said she would be a reference if I need one, for the complaint.
Saturday I went back to the drawing board. This time just starting to put incidents in a list form. It didn't feel right anymore to send a letter to John's supervisor.
Then I thought I'd write Mia, and ask if she too would be a reference, if I needed one. She said she wouldn't be appropriate. And she shared about filing complaints. Her input was invaluable, straight forward, professional.
I ended up doing a websearch off of some links she had provided and found a claim form online.
That would be my avenue.
I went back at it.
This time the complaint aspect came out well. At least I thought it did. Now if I could only get Dr. McCollochs's 100% backing.
Sometime on Monday, 9/13, Louise called and told me Knapp had called her and written two emails to her. She had decided to stop therapy with Knapp, and he wanted to know if he had done something to offend her...that was what his phone call and his first email to her were about.
In the second email, Knapp addressed an email Louise had sent him on September 1st in regard to me telling her, apparently that day, a bit more about what had happened between me and Knapp. Louise read John's second email to her over the phone to me.
I again was sent reeling...well, later that night. It was awful. By Tuesday night I was in horrible shape. I was having suicidal ideation. I was curled in a fetal position.
I was a horrid person.
I took two Xanax that night and dreamed.
I awoke the next morning and I knew what was eating me alive. And I had an image in my head...as images are known to appear to me.
I wrote about it in the memoir workshop that night. I've put that in a separate blog entry.
I saw Dr. McColloch on Thursday. And shared with him all the stuff.
He read over my complaint and said it sounded very good. Professional. Very fair.
He is behind me 100% and will sign the complaint form.
I've had trouble since reading and thinking over the email Knapp sent to Louise.
Saturday was another bad day. I spent all day in bed, eating Xanax.
I had the printer at that point. I had bought it earlier in the week. Hubby and son hooked it up Saturday evening. I knew now I could print everything, but I was paralyzed.
I had back spasms over the weekend. My left lung began to hurt sometime on Sunday, I think it was.
It's been years since I've had back spasms. My last bout with my lungs was my reunion with Mark.
Sunday, I almost deleted my 1person Twitter account. I took all my blogs off search.
I felt there was no way I could file the complaint.
Today, I was able to write a memoir piece.
I saw Dr. Sapp, my General Practitioner. She said, get the complaint in the mail. It is simply a complaint. If NY is like NC, it will take weeks and maybe months to get back to me. I'd probably have an upswing of symptoms at that point. But that I could do this.
After I mail the complaint, at the end of this week, wait five days. If I'm still in depression, start on the Paxil.
I see her next Monday to get the stitch out of the mole she removed today.
My versions blogs is now completely private. I think it is 'safe.' But maybe even private blogs aren't safe on the net.
It may stay private forever.
I've allowed some posts I had in draft to be posted.
Oh, tonight I started printing emails for evidence for the complaint. I need to already buy another cartridge. Oh well.
_____________________
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
_____________________
And then....
September 20, 2010
...I think of scapegoating.
Am I scapegoating? I never want to scapegoat. But as a human being, I recognize that I can fall into that trap. But does that desire of not wanting to fall into that trap, does that keep me from telling my truth?
I'm not scapegoating by telling what happened. Am I?
I recall in The Way how I never wanted to be a miserable comforter. I didn't want to ever blame an individual for their suffering. But I know I did at times. I did it with myself all the time, and that is not an exaggeration. Self-blame is horrid trap.
And I find myself again in this maze, like a deer in a trap. My eyes and body darting to and fro as to which way I can get out of the maze. I'm in the center of the maze, which is just a squared-in space with unknown corridors offering a possible way out.
I feel I will stay there, in that maze, darting back and forth, until I take some sort of definitive action.
I actually read the Bible this morning. I did that thing where I just open the book and read where it lands.
It landed in Luke where Jesus confronts hypocrites. Where he speaks of God's love and God's justice...and of our own eye...the window to our soul.
I must be true to myself, or I become a hypocrite....again.
_____________________
update....
September 20, 2010
I've been recording things here, on versions, in a cryptic fashion. Well except for that one blog that I put back into draft.
As of this morning this blog, versions, has been put on private.
I will use it as a journal.
So, here goes on overview.
I saw Dr. McColloch on Wednesday, Sept. 8. It think it was Wednesday and not Thursday, 9/09. Anyway, I pretty much determined then that I would pursue reporting Knapp. I thought writing a letter to his supervisor about what happened, that that'd be how I'd approach it.
I began the letter Friday afternoon late. I ended up in a vortex, crying uncontrollably and shaking. I felt all alone. All alone.
I told myself that I wasn't alone. I had Dr. McColloch. I had Lema. I had Karen. I had Mia. All as support. I had Leah.
But I couldn't stop crying. I felt the only ones I could talk to about it would be Dr. McColloch or Karen and Lema. Lema was out because of the language barrier in spoken English. Dr. McColloch....I did't want to bother him; plus I feel I have to pay him.
Karen. I didn't want to bother her. But I couldn't stop crying and shaking. So I called. She answered. We talked for about 1/2 hour. Or I guess I mainly talked, in between crying. I felt so awful.
Karen said she would be a reference if I need one, for the complaint.
Saturday I went back to the drawing board. This time just starting to put incidents in a list form. It didn't feel right anymore to send a letter to John's supervisor.
Then I thought I'd write Mia, and ask if she too would be a reference, if I needed one. She said she wouldn't be appropriate. And she shared about filing complaints. Her input was invaluable, straight forward, professional.
I ended up doing a websearch off of some links she had provided and found a claim form online.
That would be my avenue.
I went back at it.
This time the complaint aspect came out well. At least I thought it did. Now if I could only get Dr. McCollochs's 100% backing.
Sometime on Monday, 9/13, Louise called and told me Knapp had called her and written two emails to her. She had decided to stop therapy with Knapp, and he wanted to know if he had done something to offend her...that was what his phone call and his first email to her were about.
In the second email, Knapp addressed an email Louise had sent him on September 1st in regard to me telling her, apparently that day, a bit more about what had happened between me and Knapp. Louise read John's second email to her over the phone to me.
I again was sent reeling...well, later that night. It was awful. By Tuesday night I was in horrible shape. I was having suicidal ideation. I was curled in a fetal position.
I was a horrid person.
I took two Xanax that night and dreamed.
I awoke the next morning and I knew what was eating me alive. And I had an image in my head...as images are known to appear to me.
I wrote about it in the memoir workshop that night. I've put that in a separate blog entry.
I saw Dr. McColloch on Thursday. And shared with him all the stuff.
He read over my complaint and said it sounded very good. Professional. Very fair.
He is behind me 100% and will sign the complaint form.
I've had trouble since reading and thinking over the email Knapp sent to Louise.
Saturday was another bad day. I spent all day in bed, eating Xanax.
I had the printer at that point. I had bought it earlier in the week. Hubby and son hooked it up Saturday evening. I knew now I could print everything, but I was paralyzed.
I had back spasms over the weekend. My left lung began to hurt sometime on Sunday, I think it was.
It's been years since I've had back spasms. My last bout with my lungs was my reunion with Mark.
Sunday, I almost deleted my 1person Twitter account. I took all my blogs off search.
I felt there was no way I could file the complaint.
Today, I was able to write a memoir piece.
I saw Dr. Sapp, my General Practitioner. She said, get the complaint in the mail. It is simply a complaint. If NY is like NC, it will take weeks and maybe months to get back to me. I'd probably have an upswing of symptoms at that point. But that I could do this.
After I mail the complaint, at the end of this week, wait five days. If I'm still in depression, start on the Paxil.
I see her next Monday to get the stitch out of the mole she removed today.
My versions blogs is now completely private. I think it is 'safe.' But maybe even private blogs aren't safe on the net.
It may stay private forever.
I've allowed some posts I had in draft to be posted.
Oh, tonight I started printing emails for evidence for the complaint. I need to already buy another cartridge. Oh well.
_____________________
to burn the lips & cause to utter
*******************
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
_____________________
if only i felt coals upon my lips
September 19, 2010
I feel like that dude in the Old Testament that no longer wants to speak.
I hope beyond hope this heaviness lifts.
Perhaps I will drop out of this cyber world .... and into local anonymity.
Perhaps that is the only proper action I can take. To walk away and pretend.
To walk away and forget.
Except for my memoir workshops. How could I ever walk away from those?
I hate this. I hate the entire circumstance about which I am not writing. And it was all so avoidable. This harm. This harm....did not have to be.
Paranoia can be a killer, is a killer, of relationships, of life.
So Carol, why should you hide?
Hubby and son hooked up the printer last night. We again have a printer. It's been at least 9 months.
I thought that when I had the printer, compiling the complaint would be easier. Technically it is. I can easily now align all the paperwork, compile it, number it, reference it with the incidents. But mentally, it is not easier.
I find myself in deep struggle. I spent all day in bed Saturday, eating Xanax.
That cannot continue.
I feel I'm in a lose-lose situation. I have to decide which loss I can live with better, without going into illness - mental or physical.
My insides scream, "Why?"
This was so avoidable, so very avoidable.
I shake my head. And my heart hangs heavy.
I cannot go back into deep depression. I must crawl out. But how can I crawl out and lie to myself?
If I take no action by not filing the complaint, is that not lying?
Perhaps I'll just eat more Xanax tonight.
What difference does it really make anyway?
What difference do I really make?
_____________________
i think i'll quit...
September 20, 2010
....writing.
Perhaps after this memoir work shop series, I'll just stop.
I'm not obligated to anyone.
What I have to say isn't that important.
It's all just .... letters on a screen or a page.
I remember when I used to journal so much. I'd wonder what would I ever do with all that jibberish?
After leaving The Way and starting to write, I thought maybe I could do something with it.
But now, I shrug.
"What's the point?"
Good question..."What is the point?"
_____________________
I wrote...
September 20, 2010
....a memoir piece this morning.
God, I feel better, just for writing a memoir snippet.
I must continue to write.
I had back spasms yesterday. And my left lung began hurting last night. I simply cannot go back to somaticizing again.
Stay your heart Carol, stay your mind. Accept any possible consequences that may come your way.
Besides, what is the worst that could happen? You end up in prison for not being silent?
That's a silly thought. Though it could happen, perhaps. Yet, I'd almost rather take that risk, than to end up silenced again. Than to end up trapped in my own body, in my own mind.
_____________________
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
_____________________
if only i felt coals upon my lips
September 19, 2010
I feel like that dude in the Old Testament that no longer wants to speak.
I hope beyond hope this heaviness lifts.
Perhaps I will drop out of this cyber world .... and into local anonymity.
Perhaps that is the only proper action I can take. To walk away and pretend.
To walk away and forget.
Except for my memoir workshops. How could I ever walk away from those?
I hate this. I hate the entire circumstance about which I am not writing. And it was all so avoidable. This harm. This harm....did not have to be.
Paranoia can be a killer, is a killer, of relationships, of life.
So Carol, why should you hide?
Hubby and son hooked up the printer last night. We again have a printer. It's been at least 9 months.
I thought that when I had the printer, compiling the complaint would be easier. Technically it is. I can easily now align all the paperwork, compile it, number it, reference it with the incidents. But mentally, it is not easier.
I find myself in deep struggle. I spent all day in bed Saturday, eating Xanax.
That cannot continue.
I feel I'm in a lose-lose situation. I have to decide which loss I can live with better, without going into illness - mental or physical.
My insides scream, "Why?"
This was so avoidable, so very avoidable.
I shake my head. And my heart hangs heavy.
I cannot go back into deep depression. I must crawl out. But how can I crawl out and lie to myself?
If I take no action by not filing the complaint, is that not lying?
Perhaps I'll just eat more Xanax tonight.
What difference does it really make anyway?
What difference do I really make?
_____________________
i think i'll quit...
September 20, 2010
....writing.
Perhaps after this memoir work shop series, I'll just stop.
I'm not obligated to anyone.
What I have to say isn't that important.
It's all just .... letters on a screen or a page.
I remember when I used to journal so much. I'd wonder what would I ever do with all that jibberish?
After leaving The Way and starting to write, I thought maybe I could do something with it.
But now, I shrug.
"What's the point?"
Good question..."What is the point?"
_____________________
I wrote...
September 20, 2010
....a memoir piece this morning.
God, I feel better, just for writing a memoir snippet.
I must continue to write.
I had back spasms yesterday. And my left lung began hurting last night. I simply cannot go back to somaticizing again.
Stay your heart Carol, stay your mind. Accept any possible consequences that may come your way.
Besides, what is the worst that could happen? You end up in prison for not being silent?
That's a silly thought. Though it could happen, perhaps. Yet, I'd almost rather take that risk, than to end up silenced again. Than to end up trapped in my own body, in my own mind.
_____________________
June 26, 2011
Bloody Hollows
*******************
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
_____________________
Another Place
9/15/2010
AWW~september 15, 2010
non-subject: another place,
"Don't commit to reading before writing."
If only I can keep that at the center of my core. For it is only that way that I can be true to my self. My self.
I recently made a promise to never again abandon my self to another's silhouette. And if I find that I have failed. If I look inside and find a hollowness. Or if I look down and realize that I am trying to mold a certain shoe to my foot that I really don't like. Or walk a stretch of gravel road that I really don't want to be painfully trudging. I hope beyond hope that first I can recognize my self from the hollowness, from another's silhouette, from shoes not designed for me, and definitley from the crunching of a crushed rocks from a quarry...I hope I will always be able to distinguish my self from what isn't my self. And if I find my self being another self, that I can get back to self.
And when that happens, I won't be the same self. The hollowness. The shoes. The gravel road. The silhouette will become a part of me. There is no way around it.
.......................
I am scared to write tonight.
As I called the phone number I thought, "What if John Knapp is there? What if he decided to join the workshop? What would I do? How would I respond?"
I told myself that that was a silly fear. But I've had many lately, and I don't like them. This fear.
When I awoke this morning, I realized where my deep depressions and suicidal ideation and anxiety had come from the night before. The night before as I lay crying and trembling almost in a fetal position, as my husband held me. I then got down on myself for feeling the way I was, for thinking I'd rather die and never wake up. Here in the arms of one of the most wonderful people I know - safe, secure, but feeling so devastated. I must be a moron. Selfish. And so very unintelligent.
At some point I must have stopped crying and trembling. Because I had dreams. My house dream that I have repeatedly over the last ten or so years. I have it when I am working through trauma. It's kind of become like a home. I know when I am there, in that house, in my sleep dream. I know I am o.k. Because I am working. My insides, the parts of me that aren't always accessible when I am awake - those parts are working, to help me.
When I awoke this morning. I knew my reason for the fetal position the night before. It seems so trivial compared to the tragedies of the world. So trivial, my little world where I have learned for decades to hide, to hush. Yet I can't go back to hiding and hushing.
I awoke and I thought, "How can a friend file a formal complaint on a friend? I can't do that."
My next thought countered, "Carol, John is not your friend?"
"But he wrote Louise just Monday, twisting his last words to me, and he wrote to Louise that he still considered me a friend."
"Friends don't twist words. Friends don't do what John did to you."
"In the email to Louise, he said it was not that bad, what he did to me. So why do I hurt so bad? Am I just a fool? Am I too sensitive? Why can't I have a god damn don't give a shit switch that I can just flip and make it all go away?"
The thoughts almost screaming. Tears now again, pouring down my cheeks. My stomach in a knot. Craving to just go back to sleep to my dream. To the house where I still ignore the upstairs. When will I ever get around to living in and cleaning the upstairs of that house in my dreams.
As I sat on my bed crying, the image appeared. As my mind is known to do with images appearing at certain times. I don't think them up; they are just there. It's like they are set deep in my pysche in my head somewhere. Sometimes they are in my heart.
This image was in my head.
I lay flat on the ground, face up. I was on what appeared to be pavement. It is dark out, but enough light to see - like a street light.
I'm outside of my body watching from above as Knapp stabs me over and over and over. Blood spews everywhere. But I'm already dead, so he doesn't need to keep stabbing. But he does. And he hollars while he stabs, "You're my friend. You're my friend! You're my friend..."
Then he cries as he falls to the right side of my bloody body. I lay there, lifeless. He sits with his knees propped up, his head hanging down, his elbows propped on his knees, holding the bloody knife and mumbling, "Why couldn't you understand that we were friends?"
I tried to write a poem about the image, as I'm known to do. But I couldn't.
And now that I write out the image here, I feel hollow. And I feel I have lost what it was I started to write.
And I am glad that John is not in the memoir workshop. What would I have done? I do not know.
I saw my psychologist, Dr. McCollcoch, this afternoon. I used to see him from 2000 into 2006. He was with me as I left The Way. I love him as a therapist.
He is 100% supportive of me filing the complaint with the state of NY. He will be there if they call.
But I am still scared. And it seems so very silly...to be scared.
I told Dr. McColloch about my image.
_____________________
9/16/2010
blood
spews from her chest
he stabs
over and over
as she lies prostrate
face up
already
dead
_____________________
Hollow
9/16/2010
Well, my die happy feeling didn't last too long.
Feelings. Come and go.
I had suicidal ideation last night. It's been a long time since that has happened. I continue to cry today.
Depression.
I had a horrible mental image this morning. It was how I felt. I shall not share it.
I had dreams last night. One was my house dream.
I hope this pain subsides. I hope I can maneuver. I hope I can make the proper decision.
I feel very alone....but I am not alone.
_____________________
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
_____________________
Another Place
9/15/2010
AWW~september 15, 2010
non-subject: another place,
"Don't commit to reading before writing."
If only I can keep that at the center of my core. For it is only that way that I can be true to my self. My self.
I recently made a promise to never again abandon my self to another's silhouette. And if I find that I have failed. If I look inside and find a hollowness. Or if I look down and realize that I am trying to mold a certain shoe to my foot that I really don't like. Or walk a stretch of gravel road that I really don't want to be painfully trudging. I hope beyond hope that first I can recognize my self from the hollowness, from another's silhouette, from shoes not designed for me, and definitley from the crunching of a crushed rocks from a quarry...I hope I will always be able to distinguish my self from what isn't my self. And if I find my self being another self, that I can get back to self.
And when that happens, I won't be the same self. The hollowness. The shoes. The gravel road. The silhouette will become a part of me. There is no way around it.
.......................
I am scared to write tonight.
As I called the phone number I thought, "What if John Knapp is there? What if he decided to join the workshop? What would I do? How would I respond?"
I told myself that that was a silly fear. But I've had many lately, and I don't like them. This fear.
When I awoke this morning, I realized where my deep depressions and suicidal ideation and anxiety had come from the night before. The night before as I lay crying and trembling almost in a fetal position, as my husband held me. I then got down on myself for feeling the way I was, for thinking I'd rather die and never wake up. Here in the arms of one of the most wonderful people I know - safe, secure, but feeling so devastated. I must be a moron. Selfish. And so very unintelligent.
At some point I must have stopped crying and trembling. Because I had dreams. My house dream that I have repeatedly over the last ten or so years. I have it when I am working through trauma. It's kind of become like a home. I know when I am there, in that house, in my sleep dream. I know I am o.k. Because I am working. My insides, the parts of me that aren't always accessible when I am awake - those parts are working, to help me.
When I awoke this morning. I knew my reason for the fetal position the night before. It seems so trivial compared to the tragedies of the world. So trivial, my little world where I have learned for decades to hide, to hush. Yet I can't go back to hiding and hushing.
I awoke and I thought, "How can a friend file a formal complaint on a friend? I can't do that."
My next thought countered, "Carol, John is not your friend?"
"But he wrote Louise just Monday, twisting his last words to me, and he wrote to Louise that he still considered me a friend."
"Friends don't twist words. Friends don't do what John did to you."
"In the email to Louise, he said it was not that bad, what he did to me. So why do I hurt so bad? Am I just a fool? Am I too sensitive? Why can't I have a god damn don't give a shit switch that I can just flip and make it all go away?"
The thoughts almost screaming. Tears now again, pouring down my cheeks. My stomach in a knot. Craving to just go back to sleep to my dream. To the house where I still ignore the upstairs. When will I ever get around to living in and cleaning the upstairs of that house in my dreams.
As I sat on my bed crying, the image appeared. As my mind is known to do with images appearing at certain times. I don't think them up; they are just there. It's like they are set deep in my pysche in my head somewhere. Sometimes they are in my heart.
This image was in my head.
I lay flat on the ground, face up. I was on what appeared to be pavement. It is dark out, but enough light to see - like a street light.
I'm outside of my body watching from above as Knapp stabs me over and over and over. Blood spews everywhere. But I'm already dead, so he doesn't need to keep stabbing. But he does. And he hollars while he stabs, "You're my friend. You're my friend! You're my friend..."
Then he cries as he falls to the right side of my bloody body. I lay there, lifeless. He sits with his knees propped up, his head hanging down, his elbows propped on his knees, holding the bloody knife and mumbling, "Why couldn't you understand that we were friends?"
I tried to write a poem about the image, as I'm known to do. But I couldn't.
And now that I write out the image here, I feel hollow. And I feel I have lost what it was I started to write.
And I am glad that John is not in the memoir workshop. What would I have done? I do not know.
I saw my psychologist, Dr. McCollcoch, this afternoon. I used to see him from 2000 into 2006. He was with me as I left The Way. I love him as a therapist.
He is 100% supportive of me filing the complaint with the state of NY. He will be there if they call.
But I am still scared. And it seems so very silly...to be scared.
I told Dr. McColloch about my image.
_____________________
9/16/2010
blood
spews from her chest
he stabs
over and over
as she lies prostrate
face up
already
dead
_____________________
Hollow
9/16/2010
Well, my die happy feeling didn't last too long.
Feelings. Come and go.
I had suicidal ideation last night. It's been a long time since that has happened. I continue to cry today.
Depression.
I had a horrible mental image this morning. It was how I felt. I shall not share it.
I had dreams last night. One was my house dream.
I hope this pain subsides. I hope I can maneuver. I hope I can make the proper decision.
I feel very alone....but I am not alone.
_____________________
June 25, 2011
September, 2010: Embalm & Die Happy
*******************
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
___________________________
Embalm
September 10, 2011
underneath my skin
just beneath the surface
an unreachable itch
vacillating, floating
trying to push through
to reveal, to disclose
to expose, to liberate
the tiny morsels
suppressed by authority
screaming for release
so as to not be buried
where 1000 splinters
morph into boards
solidified plywood
encasing my heart
as it silently pulses
************
Verbal abuse plus the silent treatment.
A soul murdering combination.
But only if I allow it.
___________________________
just another day
September 13, 2010
Wonder what will roll off my pen tonight.
I continue to read a couple books. One is Influence by Robert Cialdini. The other is Lonliness as a Way of Life by Thomas Dumm. I'm slow at reading books these days. Actually I get distracted by blogs and news that I read online. Sometimes I re-read my own stuff. Ha.
I am continuing to read Fred Poole's life story on his blog, Fred Poole on Writing. Once I get it read, I'll read Fred's Aqua Mustang memoir. I'm reading each update on Marta Szabo's new blog, Memoir in Progress.
I regularly check for updates on the blogs I have listed on toss & ripple. I like blogs, obviously.
Today I wrote for a couple hours ~ official stuff, beginning the complaint for NY state ~ nothing creative.
I had fun with my son this afternoon and then tonight with my son and my husband.
I laughed with my friend, Louise, today on the phone. As I think about her now, I chuckle. We may market some bobble heads. Haha. :-D
The memoir workshops begin Wednesday. I'm excited and nervous, like always.
Wednesday will be 26 years since my husband and I were married. We are now happily married, but it hasn't always been that way.
I am rich in this life, rich with good people. If I die tonight, I'd die happy. I like it when I feel like that, which happens on occasion.
I hope I feel like that tomorrow night...and the next night, and the next night, and the next night....
___________________________
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
___________________________
Embalm
September 10, 2011
underneath my skin
just beneath the surface
an unreachable itch
vacillating, floating
trying to push through
to reveal, to disclose
to expose, to liberate
the tiny morsels
suppressed by authority
screaming for release
so as to not be buried
where 1000 splinters
morph into boards
solidified plywood
encasing my heart
as it silently pulses
************
Verbal abuse plus the silent treatment.
A soul murdering combination.
But only if I allow it.
___________________________
just another day
September 13, 2010
Wonder what will roll off my pen tonight.
I continue to read a couple books. One is Influence by Robert Cialdini. The other is Lonliness as a Way of Life by Thomas Dumm. I'm slow at reading books these days. Actually I get distracted by blogs and news that I read online. Sometimes I re-read my own stuff. Ha.
I am continuing to read Fred Poole's life story on his blog, Fred Poole on Writing. Once I get it read, I'll read Fred's Aqua Mustang memoir. I'm reading each update on Marta Szabo's new blog, Memoir in Progress.
I regularly check for updates on the blogs I have listed on toss & ripple. I like blogs, obviously.
Today I wrote for a couple hours ~ official stuff, beginning the complaint for NY state ~ nothing creative.
I had fun with my son this afternoon and then tonight with my son and my husband.
I laughed with my friend, Louise, today on the phone. As I think about her now, I chuckle. We may market some bobble heads. Haha. :-D
The memoir workshops begin Wednesday. I'm excited and nervous, like always.
Wednesday will be 26 years since my husband and I were married. We are now happily married, but it hasn't always been that way.
I am rich in this life, rich with good people. If I die tonight, I'd die happy. I like it when I feel like that, which happens on occasion.
I hope I feel like that tomorrow night...and the next night, and the next night, and the next night....
___________________________
June 22, 2011
Hands in Gauntlets
AWW: 6/22/11
nonsubject ~ conspiracy
__________________________
Conspiracy.
I am my own worst enemy. Or am I?
I don't put much weight in conspiracies. I know they exist. But what difference does it make in the end?
Why would anyone want to live their days conspiring, sneaking around... with the purpose I guess to reach some sort of twisted goal?
I have no idea what I can write about tonight. I am depressed; that I know.
__________________________
I sat at work looking at the bins of art not yet filed, knowing I am behind on orders, on entering new artists into the system, on updating and tallying the payment records. Knowing that my swollen hands, feet, and legs inhibit my work, my play, even my sleep.
I wish it would all go away - this pain, this swelling, this disability.
I've thought of my dad, almost thirteen years living as a quadriplegic.
The docs called him an odd quad because he could use his arms bending his elbows, shrugging his shoulders, moving his wrists. Medically he wasn't supposed to be able to use his arms because his spinal cord sever was at the C-4 location.
His hands didn't work at all. He wore a couple different kinds of gauntlet gloves, that is fingerless gloves, to help his hands function for different activities.
He had hand-helper "tools" too. One tool served like a pocket in his palm. It was positioned around his hand held in place with Velcro securing a plastic "pocket" in his right palm. The pocket, large enough for yet tight enough to secure a utensil handle, opened at an angle facing between his thumb and forefinger. We, the people with hands that functioned, would slide the handle end of a eating utensil into place in the palm pocket with the non-handle end of the utensil - the spoon scoop or fork tongues - facing upwards and exiting between his thumb and index finger. He could then move his arm, with his thumb facing his body, to cause the utensil to shovel food so he could lift the utensil to his mouth and feed himself.
I've been wearing gauntlet gloves now for weeks. A different kind than Dad wore; my hands still work, but they are limited. They ache. I can't straighten my fingers. I can't make a fist. I need help opening bottles and such. My fingers are swollen, palms tender, and wrists are weak. The gauntlets help support my hands and wrists.
I mentioned to the occupational therapist the other day that my hands remind me of how my father's hands used to work, or rather not work. I told her that I've had to tell myself that my hands can function. I see Daddy in my hands and I've wondered if I am using my hands a certain way because I watched Dad for over a decade use his hands that way. I've wondered if it is becoming a habit for me. I don't want that.
But if I can't grip well or make a fist...well, I can't.
In addition to my gauntlet gloves, I'm also garbed in toe-to-thigh compression socks and I use knee sleeves for knee support. My knees tend to act like my fingers, in that I can't straighten them. Mornings, or when I've been still for awhile, are the worst times for my legs. I shuffle in the mornings after I get up, holding onto furniture to balance myself as I painfully make my way across the bedroom to the bathroom. I refuse to use the walker. I refuse to accept that this disability is a permanent state.
As I move through the morning, my legs strengthen.
It all started in mid-April, after I'd been taking oral Lamisil, a prescription drug for toenail fungus. I was only on the drug for about five weeks. I've now been off of it for around eleven weeks. I stopped when I finally observed that my foot, ankle, knee, hand, and wrist pain and weakness had set in during the weeks after starting the medication.
My husband spoke with some lawyers about it earlier this week. They're doing a bit of investigation.
__________________________
Conspiracies make the mind and body and emotions tired. I think us adult humans could learn a lot from animals and little children. They don't conspire. They do look to have their needs met, often times with an innate awareness of the importance of interdependence. And sometimes they look to meet those needs out of pure, raw survival; but seldom, if ever, is there a conspiracy.
__________________________
nonsubject ~ conspiracy
__________________________
Conspiracy.
I am my own worst enemy. Or am I?
I don't put much weight in conspiracies. I know they exist. But what difference does it make in the end?
Why would anyone want to live their days conspiring, sneaking around... with the purpose I guess to reach some sort of twisted goal?
I have no idea what I can write about tonight. I am depressed; that I know.
__________________________
I sat at work looking at the bins of art not yet filed, knowing I am behind on orders, on entering new artists into the system, on updating and tallying the payment records. Knowing that my swollen hands, feet, and legs inhibit my work, my play, even my sleep.
I wish it would all go away - this pain, this swelling, this disability.
I've thought of my dad, almost thirteen years living as a quadriplegic.
The docs called him an odd quad because he could use his arms bending his elbows, shrugging his shoulders, moving his wrists. Medically he wasn't supposed to be able to use his arms because his spinal cord sever was at the C-4 location.
His hands didn't work at all. He wore a couple different kinds of gauntlet gloves, that is fingerless gloves, to help his hands function for different activities.
He had hand-helper "tools" too. One tool served like a pocket in his palm. It was positioned around his hand held in place with Velcro securing a plastic "pocket" in his right palm. The pocket, large enough for yet tight enough to secure a utensil handle, opened at an angle facing between his thumb and forefinger. We, the people with hands that functioned, would slide the handle end of a eating utensil into place in the palm pocket with the non-handle end of the utensil - the spoon scoop or fork tongues - facing upwards and exiting between his thumb and index finger. He could then move his arm, with his thumb facing his body, to cause the utensil to shovel food so he could lift the utensil to his mouth and feed himself.
I've been wearing gauntlet gloves now for weeks. A different kind than Dad wore; my hands still work, but they are limited. They ache. I can't straighten my fingers. I can't make a fist. I need help opening bottles and such. My fingers are swollen, palms tender, and wrists are weak. The gauntlets help support my hands and wrists.
I mentioned to the occupational therapist the other day that my hands remind me of how my father's hands used to work, or rather not work. I told her that I've had to tell myself that my hands can function. I see Daddy in my hands and I've wondered if I am using my hands a certain way because I watched Dad for over a decade use his hands that way. I've wondered if it is becoming a habit for me. I don't want that.
But if I can't grip well or make a fist...well, I can't.
In addition to my gauntlet gloves, I'm also garbed in toe-to-thigh compression socks and I use knee sleeves for knee support. My knees tend to act like my fingers, in that I can't straighten them. Mornings, or when I've been still for awhile, are the worst times for my legs. I shuffle in the mornings after I get up, holding onto furniture to balance myself as I painfully make my way across the bedroom to the bathroom. I refuse to use the walker. I refuse to accept that this disability is a permanent state.
As I move through the morning, my legs strengthen.
It all started in mid-April, after I'd been taking oral Lamisil, a prescription drug for toenail fungus. I was only on the drug for about five weeks. I've now been off of it for around eleven weeks. I stopped when I finally observed that my foot, ankle, knee, hand, and wrist pain and weakness had set in during the weeks after starting the medication.
My husband spoke with some lawyers about it earlier this week. They're doing a bit of investigation.
__________________________
Conspiracies make the mind and body and emotions tired. I think us adult humans could learn a lot from animals and little children. They don't conspire. They do look to have their needs met, often times with an innate awareness of the importance of interdependence. And sometimes they look to meet those needs out of pure, raw survival; but seldom, if ever, is there a conspiracy.
__________________________
Hidden Journal Archives: 'Que Sera' & 'Slice & Hatchet'
*******************
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
Que Sera
September 03, 2010
Today as I met with Dr. McColloch, my psychologist, I shared with him (among other things) that I feel silenced.
He pointed out the obvious fact that I am not.
And I agree with him, on the fact; I am continuing to blog.
But, that didn't change that I feel silenced.
Dr. McColloch has more emails to wade through. We are still discussing my 'decision' - various angles, possible responses if I decide to bring forth certain information. I'm so glad to have his input, his years of experience to draw upon.
I talked for over an hour with a NY LCSW this past week. I'm glad I'm deliberating, getting viewpoints and opinions.
Eventually I imagine the scenario will come out in writing. More to add along the road from cultic influence to empowerment.
Today, I counted the email exchanges from the end-of-July scenario. Over 100. Complexity.
How very odd this whole situation has turned.
I wonder what will be in five years?
By the end of my appointment today, I felt less silenced.
______________________________________
Slice and Hatchet
September 8, 2010
If people only knew the other side of Knapp.
So Carol, why not expose it? Because you doubt yourself, that's why. At least that is one reason.
Yet, your psychologist sees it. Your son sees it. Your husband sees it. The third party sees it. A few others who know about the situation see it. Others have even experienced the other side and have chosen to keep themselves at arms length from Knapp. You've experienced it. You've heard and read him brush off others. Now he has done it to you; but not before attacking you verbally, blaming and accusing and belittling you.
So why can't you clearly see it? Why do you doubt yourself so much? What are you afraid of?
Funny that. In response to my questioning myself, I now hear the critical Knapp voice in my head instead of the understanding Knapp voice. I hear him mock me, or insinuate I'm taking things too personally, or that if I really have a problem with him to report him, and then a simple "fuck 'er." I've heard him say those things about others, so why not me?
So much of this could possibly have been handled had he not cut off communication with me.
But he did. Slice and hatchet is what I call it.
I think again of the song from the musical "Hair." "How can people be so heartless, how can people be so cruel." And then those words in the song about these same people are loud to social injustice, but then they harm their 'friends.'
All in the name of a big cause I guess.
I waiver between feeling anger and insignificance.
John Knapp, LMSW, my previous cult-recovery therapist, verbally and emotionally abused me, plain and simple.
And he insinuated that I was playing a "charade."
After thought:
We all have our other sides. The disgrace is when we intentionally guise it, the masks of hypocrisy. And when we refuse to be accountable for harms committed.
*************************
[end]
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
Que Sera
September 03, 2010
Today as I met with Dr. McColloch, my psychologist, I shared with him (among other things) that I feel silenced.
He pointed out the obvious fact that I am not.
And I agree with him, on the fact; I am continuing to blog.
But, that didn't change that I feel silenced.
Dr. McColloch has more emails to wade through. We are still discussing my 'decision' - various angles, possible responses if I decide to bring forth certain information. I'm so glad to have his input, his years of experience to draw upon.
I talked for over an hour with a NY LCSW this past week. I'm glad I'm deliberating, getting viewpoints and opinions.
Eventually I imagine the scenario will come out in writing. More to add along the road from cultic influence to empowerment.
Today, I counted the email exchanges from the end-of-July scenario. Over 100. Complexity.
How very odd this whole situation has turned.
I wonder what will be in five years?
By the end of my appointment today, I felt less silenced.
______________________________________
Slice and Hatchet
September 8, 2010
If people only knew the other side of Knapp.
So Carol, why not expose it? Because you doubt yourself, that's why. At least that is one reason.
Yet, your psychologist sees it. Your son sees it. Your husband sees it. The third party sees it. A few others who know about the situation see it. Others have even experienced the other side and have chosen to keep themselves at arms length from Knapp. You've experienced it. You've heard and read him brush off others. Now he has done it to you; but not before attacking you verbally, blaming and accusing and belittling you.
So why can't you clearly see it? Why do you doubt yourself so much? What are you afraid of?
Funny that. In response to my questioning myself, I now hear the critical Knapp voice in my head instead of the understanding Knapp voice. I hear him mock me, or insinuate I'm taking things too personally, or that if I really have a problem with him to report him, and then a simple "fuck 'er." I've heard him say those things about others, so why not me?
So much of this could possibly have been handled had he not cut off communication with me.
But he did. Slice and hatchet is what I call it.
I think again of the song from the musical "Hair." "How can people be so heartless, how can people be so cruel." And then those words in the song about these same people are loud to social injustice, but then they harm their 'friends.'
All in the name of a big cause I guess.
I waiver between feeling anger and insignificance.
John Knapp, LMSW, my previous cult-recovery therapist, verbally and emotionally abused me, plain and simple.
And he insinuated that I was playing a "charade."
After thought:
We all have our other sides. The disgrace is when we intentionally guise it, the masks of hypocrisy. And when we refuse to be accountable for harms committed.
*************************
[end]
June 19, 2011
August 12, 2010 ~ 2:45 AM Rant
Below is another piece from the blogging journal archives. I actually posted the rendition below on toss & ripple back in August, 2010. But I took it off public view within a couple weeks. Not sure all my whys for doing so, though I could probably find some of the whys somewhere in my scribblings.
The following was written after I read the email in which "Louise" (another client of Knapps) asked the point blank question (close to the quote, if not exact), "Did you ever find out what you did that was so wrong?"
I was obviously a bit peeved.
______________________
August 12, 2010
2:45 AM
A rant. I normally don't put rants on my blog. But this is a rant.
I received an email right before I was getting ready to lie down and go to sleep an hour plus ago. How the hell am I supposed to explain to the person who sent the email what the hell happened in the past couple weeks? Hell, I think I'll just tell them.
Plus, I have other emails that have now been read by a professional in this field.
I could take this dude to the cleaners if I choose. JERK!!
But...that's not my style. Yet after getting the email tonight from an innocent person in no way involved in the situation and not knowing anything really other than I'm gone...after getting that email that asks me one simple question, I'd like to hang the ("jerk") guy out to dry.
Who the fuck does this dude think he is? To have twisted, contorted, and blamed me for shit I didn't do? I didn't do the crap he threw at me and accused me of. And the other party that he accused? I don't agree. I was thinking about it today. I can recall nowhere where the other party sucked up to me. In fact, the other party verbally came after me. And the other party ain't an "apparent severe borderline." Bullshit. The other party is more like Spock with passion. (Hmm...well those are kind of opposites. Regardless, the other party ain't "borderline.")
So where the hell does this jerk (which is what I think of the guy if I clear the fog) come off with that shit.
And then to turn around and state he wants no contact with me? And then he comes back at me and says I'm not respecting that? Bullshit. I responded to an all mailing that he sent me. I responded to another email that he sent only to me but the text was to me and the other party. And because of all the other fuck-ups in email threads that had previously gone on which had partly created this mess...I responded to the email. I responded out of respect for the email sender (the jerkwad dude) and actually having the thought: "He said no contact. But it appears the other party didn't get this email. The sender is a reasonable dude, so I'll just write him a short sentence and let him know that the other party may not have gotten it."
Well, I was wrong. The sender wasn't reasonable.
And to blame me for destroying a friendship if I can't see what happened the way he sees it? Yet he is the one that cut off contact so none of this stuff can be discussed. But I am the destroyer? More bullshit.
And I'm left minus this person, minus a group of people who I had grown close to, minus my own self-confidence, unable to trust myself, reliving the same god-damned crap that was similar to what happened at GreaseSpot Cafe, feeling I had been beaten up by the very person I trusted and then kicked into a gutter on the street with him looking at me saying those final words in his email: "Have a nice life."
The guy made it absolutely clear that he wanted no contact with me. So there is no way to work through any of this stuff with him, with the very person it happened with. And he is in the helping profession? God, my blood is boiling.
Yeah..I'm pissed.
Then the dude has the audacity to call me the next freaking day after his scathing email(s) and leave a message on my home phone that his assistant told him that I'd contacted the assistant stating I'd like to speak with him? WTF? I never contacted his assistant! So I call the dude back and leave a message that I never contacted his assistant and in process of leaving the message I get choked up and said something like, "But if you want to talk, that be o.k. It'd be nice to end on a more positive note.."
And he never calls back.
Gawd, the more I think about it the more pissed I get.
So I guess I need to think about something else.
***************
BTW: I posted this first on my blog that seldom ever gets read. (Not that this one gets read much either.) I felt mousy and timid. As I wrote, the timid wore off....so I thought I'd post it here on this more public blog. Of course, I might put it in draft later. Whatever....
_________________________
[end of rendition]
*******************
Note: The above is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
The following was written after I read the email in which "Louise" (another client of Knapps) asked the point blank question (close to the quote, if not exact), "Did you ever find out what you did that was so wrong?"
I was obviously a bit peeved.
______________________
August 12, 2010
2:45 AM
A rant. I normally don't put rants on my blog. But this is a rant.
I received an email right before I was getting ready to lie down and go to sleep an hour plus ago. How the hell am I supposed to explain to the person who sent the email what the hell happened in the past couple weeks? Hell, I think I'll just tell them.
Plus, I have other emails that have now been read by a professional in this field.
I could take this dude to the cleaners if I choose. JERK!!
But...that's not my style. Yet after getting the email tonight from an innocent person in no way involved in the situation and not knowing anything really other than I'm gone...after getting that email that asks me one simple question, I'd like to hang the ("jerk") guy out to dry.
Who the fuck does this dude think he is? To have twisted, contorted, and blamed me for shit I didn't do? I didn't do the crap he threw at me and accused me of. And the other party that he accused? I don't agree. I was thinking about it today. I can recall nowhere where the other party sucked up to me. In fact, the other party verbally came after me. And the other party ain't an "apparent severe borderline." Bullshit. The other party is more like Spock with passion. (Hmm...well those are kind of opposites. Regardless, the other party ain't "borderline.")
So where the hell does this jerk (which is what I think of the guy if I clear the fog) come off with that shit.
And then to turn around and state he wants no contact with me? And then he comes back at me and says I'm not respecting that? Bullshit. I responded to an all mailing that he sent me. I responded to another email that he sent only to me but the text was to me and the other party. And because of all the other fuck-ups in email threads that had previously gone on which had partly created this mess...I responded to the email. I responded out of respect for the email sender (the jerkwad dude) and actually having the thought: "He said no contact. But it appears the other party didn't get this email. The sender is a reasonable dude, so I'll just write him a short sentence and let him know that the other party may not have gotten it."
Well, I was wrong. The sender wasn't reasonable.
And to blame me for destroying a friendship if I can't see what happened the way he sees it? Yet he is the one that cut off contact so none of this stuff can be discussed. But I am the destroyer? More bullshit.
And I'm left minus this person, minus a group of people who I had grown close to, minus my own self-confidence, unable to trust myself, reliving the same god-damned crap that was similar to what happened at GreaseSpot Cafe, feeling I had been beaten up by the very person I trusted and then kicked into a gutter on the street with him looking at me saying those final words in his email: "Have a nice life."
The guy made it absolutely clear that he wanted no contact with me. So there is no way to work through any of this stuff with him, with the very person it happened with. And he is in the helping profession? God, my blood is boiling.
Yeah..I'm pissed.
Then the dude has the audacity to call me the next freaking day after his scathing email(s) and leave a message on my home phone that his assistant told him that I'd contacted the assistant stating I'd like to speak with him? WTF? I never contacted his assistant! So I call the dude back and leave a message that I never contacted his assistant and in process of leaving the message I get choked up and said something like, "But if you want to talk, that be o.k. It'd be nice to end on a more positive note.."
And he never calls back.
Gawd, the more I think about it the more pissed I get.
So I guess I need to think about something else.
***************
BTW: I posted this first on my blog that seldom ever gets read. (Not that this one gets read much either.) I felt mousy and timid. As I wrote, the timid wore off....so I thought I'd post it here on this more public blog. Of course, I might put it in draft later. Whatever....
_________________________
[end of rendition]
*******************
Note: The above is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
June 18, 2011
Horns & Psychopaths
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW.To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
________________________
August 30, 2010
I had the day off.
Was going to do some stuff around the house. Instead I ended up on the computer and with allergy trouble. Part of my time on the computer I reviewed some of the emails again, the emails surrounding the conflict on a project with my previous therapist. The emails from right before the conflict started, and then ones during the conflict.
Could John be a psychopath?
I recently read some of the attributes of a psychopath. I hate to admit it, but John matches many of them. If it was only me who had had these type interactions with John, I wouldn't think that John's behaviour matches. But, because others too have had these type experiences....well....it's just too weird.
And then there are the emails from Louise. Some of the things she has observed and stated...and I didn't tell her about John's mental health diagnosis. She noticed that all by herself.
It's just too weird.
_________________________
September 1, 2010
I still struggle (internally) with the situation, the conflict from a month ago.
Today is one of those days. I know one of the triggers is when I check Knapp's Tweets. I don't know why I do that. I used to do the same thing with the GreaseSpot Cafe forum. Well, I'd check the forum; it wasn't on Twitter.
I feel like Knapp really doesn't give a shit and that he thinks he is probably totally right, if he thinks about the situation at all.
And then I wonder if he is right.
Was I not compassionate enough when he spoke with me on Skype and on the phone regarding part of the situation, the conflict with Lema? Did I give an impression that (as Knapp stated) I knew he was in much deep distress (or something like that) over the situation?
But then, even if that were the case, what did I do that was so horrible to deserve his accusations, accusations that attacked my deepest vulnerabilities? Some of which I just discussed with him less that a week before? My deepest vulnerabilities that I had spent over a year paying him for his professional services to help me work through those issues. How in God's name does he justify the accusations he threw before my eyes and then cut me off, in essence shunning me and being unwilling to work through any reconciliation? How is that any different from that which he sounds his horn so loudly against? What a hypocritical son-of-a-bitch.
I feel anger and want to write a blog entitled with his name, "John M. Knapp, LMSW," so it goes on search engines. I want to post the emails, every damn one of them. I want to expose all the dirt, and I'd include mine.
When in tears he shared with me, "I'm an imposter," little did I know how true that would play out in less than a week.
My heart strains. My teeth grind. My head tense. Fury underneath the surface.
Breathe. Connect with my heart.
Carol get back to compassion. Back to compassion. Back to compassion.
Later: Light bulb. The trigger today wasn't Knapp's Twitter updates, but rather Louise's phone call from this afternoon. Ah, that's it. AFGO (another fucking growth opportunity) time. How to handle my inner state when a similar phone call happens again. I feel sure it will happen again.
_________________________
________________________
August 30, 2010
I had the day off.
Was going to do some stuff around the house. Instead I ended up on the computer and with allergy trouble. Part of my time on the computer I reviewed some of the emails again, the emails surrounding the conflict on a project with my previous therapist. The emails from right before the conflict started, and then ones during the conflict.
Could John be a psychopath?
I recently read some of the attributes of a psychopath. I hate to admit it, but John matches many of them. If it was only me who had had these type interactions with John, I wouldn't think that John's behaviour matches. But, because others too have had these type experiences....well....it's just too weird.
And then there are the emails from Louise. Some of the things she has observed and stated...and I didn't tell her about John's mental health diagnosis. She noticed that all by herself.
It's just too weird.
_________________________
September 1, 2010
I still struggle (internally) with the situation, the conflict from a month ago.
Today is one of those days. I know one of the triggers is when I check Knapp's Tweets. I don't know why I do that. I used to do the same thing with the GreaseSpot Cafe forum. Well, I'd check the forum; it wasn't on Twitter.
I feel like Knapp really doesn't give a shit and that he thinks he is probably totally right, if he thinks about the situation at all.
And then I wonder if he is right.
Was I not compassionate enough when he spoke with me on Skype and on the phone regarding part of the situation, the conflict with Lema? Did I give an impression that (as Knapp stated) I knew he was in much deep distress (or something like that) over the situation?
But then, even if that were the case, what did I do that was so horrible to deserve his accusations, accusations that attacked my deepest vulnerabilities? Some of which I just discussed with him less that a week before? My deepest vulnerabilities that I had spent over a year paying him for his professional services to help me work through those issues. How in God's name does he justify the accusations he threw before my eyes and then cut me off, in essence shunning me and being unwilling to work through any reconciliation? How is that any different from that which he sounds his horn so loudly against? What a hypocritical son-of-a-bitch.
I feel anger and want to write a blog entitled with his name, "John M. Knapp, LMSW," so it goes on search engines. I want to post the emails, every damn one of them. I want to expose all the dirt, and I'd include mine.
When in tears he shared with me, "I'm an imposter," little did I know how true that would play out in less than a week.
My heart strains. My teeth grind. My head tense. Fury underneath the surface.
Breathe. Connect with my heart.
Carol get back to compassion. Back to compassion. Back to compassion.
Later: Light bulb. The trigger today wasn't Knapp's Twitter updates, but rather Louise's phone call from this afternoon. Ah, that's it. AFGO (another fucking growth opportunity) time. How to handle my inner state when a similar phone call happens again. I feel sure it will happen again.
_________________________
June 16, 2011
Distrust Disease
*******************
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
______________________________
Distrust Disease
August 25, 2010
Self-distrust is a harsh thing. Along with self-blame.
I had fought so hard to make gains in those areas.
Right now, I feel a machete was wielded, slashing those strides I'd made. Slashed...by the very person that helped me make those strides. The person who gently held my hand, and talked me through and helped me see. That very person, in a couple swings, left these shredded pieces of me lying on the ground to wilt, rot, and go back into the soil of my being...of my fiber. These shredded pieces of dignity and self-worth and what I had worked so hard to obtain...or thought I'd obtained. Apparently I was still too dependent on the therapist who I thought was helping to heal those parts of me, who then turned around and exacted the harm.
Right now, I just feel like giving up. By giving up, I mean dropping out of social networks. Quit writing. Become somewhat of a recluse. Hibernate in locality, pretending pieces of my past never happened.
I don't know. Perhaps I should report the recent incidents. I don't know. I don't know.
I cry.
_____________________
[end journal]
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
______________________________
Distrust Disease
August 25, 2010
Self-distrust is a harsh thing. Along with self-blame.
I had fought so hard to make gains in those areas.
Right now, I feel a machete was wielded, slashing those strides I'd made. Slashed...by the very person that helped me make those strides. The person who gently held my hand, and talked me through and helped me see. That very person, in a couple swings, left these shredded pieces of me lying on the ground to wilt, rot, and go back into the soil of my being...of my fiber. These shredded pieces of dignity and self-worth and what I had worked so hard to obtain...or thought I'd obtained. Apparently I was still too dependent on the therapist who I thought was helping to heal those parts of me, who then turned around and exacted the harm.
Right now, I just feel like giving up. By giving up, I mean dropping out of social networks. Quit writing. Become somewhat of a recluse. Hibernate in locality, pretending pieces of my past never happened.
I don't know. Perhaps I should report the recent incidents. I don't know. I don't know.
I cry.
_____________________
[end journal]
June 14, 2011
Whys, Whats, Reasons
Some may wonder why I am coming forward with the name of my ex-counselor and why I am bringing forth pennings I wrote that I had previously hidden on my private blog.
I have wondered the same. Not unlike when I wonder as to the "why" I write at all or as to "why" I make what I write public.
I don't know all the answers to the "whys."
Yesterday, I posted elsewhere the following:
[post]
I have some memoir type pieces I posted on my toss & ripple blog in which I used a pseudonym for Knapp's name...that is before I came forward with his real name which I used in other pieces.
I first came forward using Knapp's real name on some of my postings when he began soliciting funds for his non-profit, The Center for Healing Spiritual and Cultic Abuse (theCHSCA). I simply couldn't sit by in silence.
Now, I am changing some of those past pieces from the pseudonym to Knapp's real name.
Some may wonder why I would do this? I wonder why at times also.
Part of the reason is because of some of the stuff I continue to read that Knapp posts online. Some of it is because of the harm that has been wrought to other people via Knapp's antics.
Some...I don't know why.
I go back and forth as to how much to expose. [...]
[end post]
I read a quote yesterday:
"You do not need to justify your life. Just live."
Maybe some day I'll learn that lesson. That said, I hope I continue to question my thoughts. If we aren't open to questioning ourselves...well, we might just miss some insights and answers.
I wonder if being closed to questioning ourselves comes from fear....perhaps a fear of who we really are?
And maybe it's not our selves we should(?) question, but rather our opinions, our thoughts, our perspectives, our beliefs, our whatevers. "Whatevers" may be our entrapments... that keep us stunted and bound.
But then again, is not our "self" made up of our thoughts, opinions, perspectives, beliefs, and whatevers?
************************
____________________________
To access an ongoing index regarding my experiences with Knapp, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
____________________________
I have wondered the same. Not unlike when I wonder as to the "why" I write at all or as to "why" I make what I write public.
I don't know all the answers to the "whys."
Yesterday, I posted elsewhere the following:
[post]
I have some memoir type pieces I posted on my toss & ripple blog in which I used a pseudonym for Knapp's name...that is before I came forward with his real name which I used in other pieces.
I first came forward using Knapp's real name on some of my postings when he began soliciting funds for his non-profit, The Center for Healing Spiritual and Cultic Abuse (theCHSCA). I simply couldn't sit by in silence.
Now, I am changing some of those past pieces from the pseudonym to Knapp's real name.
Some may wonder why I would do this? I wonder why at times also.
Part of the reason is because of some of the stuff I continue to read that Knapp posts online. Some of it is because of the harm that has been wrought to other people via Knapp's antics.
Some...I don't know why.
I go back and forth as to how much to expose. [...]
[end post]
I read a quote yesterday:
"You do not need to justify your life. Just live."
Maybe some day I'll learn that lesson. That said, I hope I continue to question my thoughts. If we aren't open to questioning ourselves...well, we might just miss some insights and answers.
I wonder if being closed to questioning ourselves comes from fear....perhaps a fear of who we really are?
And maybe it's not our selves we should(?) question, but rather our opinions, our thoughts, our perspectives, our beliefs, our whatevers. "Whatevers" may be our entrapments... that keep us stunted and bound.
But then again, is not our "self" made up of our thoughts, opinions, perspectives, beliefs, and whatevers?
************************
____________________________
To access an ongoing index regarding my experiences with Knapp, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
____________________________
June 7, 2011
Cult-Recovery Abuse
At first when I read John's final email to me on August 2, 2010, I went numb.
I was bewildered.
I was already confused due to his previous emails.
I was walking on egg shells, slivered pieces of glass.
His final blow sent me reeling.
I thought it was a dream.
John M Knapp, LMSW, my cult-recovery therapist...
...verbally assaulted and emotionally abused me.
How could I reconcile that?
Who would believe me?
What was real?
I wish I had kept all that I wrote
after his blows back in August, 2010.
But I didn't; I was too frightened.
The delete key screamed at me.
It was like when I was deep in The Way...
...I would censor my own private journal.
How could I ever trust myself again?
In one of John's private emails to me in June, 2010, he stated, "...I am so afraid I'm going to hurt a client or the field itself..."
I never imagined that client would be me.
_____________
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
_____________
daggers
8/03/10
2:20 am
Had a hard day today
A friendship died
And I'm very confused as to why or how
I endeavored to open the door
To talk, to understand
But the door was shut with my face in it
It hurt
Apparently I am responsible for the death
The friend told me
"You destroyed our friendship"
And I don't even know how I committed the murder
I never want to burden a friend
With the responsibility they need to defend me
I don't make a good defense barrier
Maybe that means I am a rotten friend
Maybe I can't be trusted
And now my heart wonders
When it can trust itself again
~*~*~
deja vu
8/10/10
9:01 pm
silenced
pen paralyzed
murdered muse
wishing
it were a dream
and I'd awake
tomorrow
to discover it
untrue
~*~*~
Air
8/11/10
9:14 am
I feel so fucking down, immobilized.
I never imagined that what has transpired would happen. My head is filled with contradictions. I'm having a hard time believing the way certain incidents have played out.
And I feel very alone in the situation, though I know I am not. Yet a decision lies with me, and me alone. Until then, I don't know....I may remain immobile, in my ability to write.
If I feel I can't write, I'm almost dead inside. Writing is almost like breathing to me.
~*~*~
Breathe
8/12/10
12:14 AM
Perhaps someday the events of the past couple weeks will come forth in memoir.
I saw a professional today, in the field of expertise regarding my 'decision.' I appreciate their insight...beyond words. I'm glad to have someone like that....to help me navigate. This person is seasoned, been around this block for decades. Someone I trust. Someone who knows me, knows me pretty well actually.
I felt empowered after meeting with this person. They helped me clear the fog in my head. They read...the emails...ones from a couple weeks ago, from last week, and from the past couple days. I cried and cried and cried some more.
This person was so very objective and at the same time understanding. They asked me, "What do YOU think? How do YOU feel? What is YOUR response?" In essence they told me to wipe out all the chatter, to step outside the box and peer in. I was having difficulty doing that, even though I had tried.
And I saw.
I must weigh. What are the possible outcomes of my decision? To others? To me? To my family? To a certain individual, their life, their family? Which possible outcomes can I live with in the end, without knowing in advance exactly what those might be? And what of the unknown people who have not yet entered the picture? They may never enter. I can't base my decision on that.
I still wish this were all a dream.
I wish a lot of things.
Some of my wishes have come true.
I can trust. I can trust the person I saw today and I can trust me. I'm not obligated to do anymore than that.
I've prayed this week.
_____________
I was bewildered.
I was already confused due to his previous emails.
I was walking on egg shells, slivered pieces of glass.
His final blow sent me reeling.
I thought it was a dream.
John M Knapp, LMSW, my cult-recovery therapist...
- who states he "does healing"
- who states he "hates abuse"
- who continually exposes supposed toxic groups
- who offers counsel to help people heal from harmful relationships
- who elegantly and skillfully writes about the effects of manipulation
- who lists "fair-fighting" rules
- who supports restorative justice
...verbally assaulted and emotionally abused me.
How could I reconcile that?
Who would believe me?
What was real?
I wish I had kept all that I wrote
after his blows back in August, 2010.
But I didn't; I was too frightened.
The delete key screamed at me.
It was like when I was deep in The Way...
...I would censor my own private journal.
How could I ever trust myself again?
In one of John's private emails to me in June, 2010, he stated, "...I am so afraid I'm going to hurt a client or the field itself..."
I never imagined that client would be me.
_____________
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
_____________
daggers
8/03/10
2:20 am
Had a hard day today
A friendship died
And I'm very confused as to why or how
I endeavored to open the door
To talk, to understand
But the door was shut with my face in it
It hurt
Apparently I am responsible for the death
The friend told me
"You destroyed our friendship"
And I don't even know how I committed the murder
I never want to burden a friend
With the responsibility they need to defend me
I don't make a good defense barrier
Maybe that means I am a rotten friend
Maybe I can't be trusted
And now my heart wonders
When it can trust itself again
~*~*~
deja vu
8/10/10
9:01 pm
silenced
pen paralyzed
murdered muse
wishing
it were a dream
and I'd awake
tomorrow
to discover it
untrue
~*~*~
Air
8/11/10
9:14 am
I feel so fucking down, immobilized.
I never imagined that what has transpired would happen. My head is filled with contradictions. I'm having a hard time believing the way certain incidents have played out.
And I feel very alone in the situation, though I know I am not. Yet a decision lies with me, and me alone. Until then, I don't know....I may remain immobile, in my ability to write.
If I feel I can't write, I'm almost dead inside. Writing is almost like breathing to me.
~*~*~
Breathe
8/12/10
12:14 AM
Perhaps someday the events of the past couple weeks will come forth in memoir.
I saw a professional today, in the field of expertise regarding my 'decision.' I appreciate their insight...beyond words. I'm glad to have someone like that....to help me navigate. This person is seasoned, been around this block for decades. Someone I trust. Someone who knows me, knows me pretty well actually.
I felt empowered after meeting with this person. They helped me clear the fog in my head. They read...the emails...ones from a couple weeks ago, from last week, and from the past couple days. I cried and cried and cried some more.
This person was so very objective and at the same time understanding. They asked me, "What do YOU think? How do YOU feel? What is YOUR response?" In essence they told me to wipe out all the chatter, to step outside the box and peer in. I was having difficulty doing that, even though I had tried.
And I saw.
I must weigh. What are the possible outcomes of my decision? To others? To me? To my family? To a certain individual, their life, their family? Which possible outcomes can I live with in the end, without knowing in advance exactly what those might be? And what of the unknown people who have not yet entered the picture? They may never enter. I can't base my decision on that.
I still wish this were all a dream.
I wish a lot of things.
Some of my wishes have come true.
I can trust. I can trust the person I saw today and I can trust me. I'm not obligated to do anymore than that.
I've prayed this week.
_____________
June 6, 2011
Confidential Wedges
****
When John M. Knapp, LMSW, abruptly let me know that he wanted no contact with me, I immediately went to his online Google support group where I was a member and dropped my membership. The online group corresponded with the telephone support group that Knapp facilitated, a support group of which I'd been a paying participant since its inception almost two years prior.
I was a core member of that group. John had proposed to me privately the idea of me becoming a group facilitator, but I decided I wanted to remain simply a participant.
Before dropping my online membership after John's abrupt severing, I wrote a message to all the members that some things had come up and I wouldn't be in the group anymore. I didn't state the reason I had to drop - John's dissociation with me. In hindsight I wish I had. But I thought it was a "private" matter.
"Private." I've almost come to hate that word, along with the word "confidential." Two words used to silence humans. It's anathema to share what is shared with you in "confidence."
Here I was being shunned by my cult-recovery counselor. And I didn't even know what I had done wrong, though he had explicitly, harshly, and abruptly written to me accusations...accusations that I had no idea I was engaging in. But I had to consider them; after all, he had been my mental health counselor. I looked to him for advice, insight, trust.
****
Louise, another client of John's, and I had become good friends via the support group. We talked on the phone a few times each week, oftentimes daily.
What should I tell Louise? How do I hide my emotional trauma from a good friend? But I don't want to mess up her therapy she has with John. But I have to tell her more than I've written to the group via my generic message.
I felt in a no-win situation. How can I be true to myself and true to my friend without causing her harm?
I called her.
My heart in my throat and holding back tears I stated, "I had to drop from Group. I apparently committed a huge faux pas and John and I are currently not communicating. I just want to let you know. It's awkward and I'm not sure how to approach you on it. But I don't want our friendship compromised."
That's all I brought up about my and John's split.
****
Two weeks later in one of her emails, Louise asked, "Did you ever find out what you did that was so wrong?" Louise was referring to John.
My heart again jumped to my throat. A point blank question.
How was I supposed to respond?.
I had not discussed John with Louise since I let her know that John and I had a split.
How much do I share? How do I share it?
I had been in turmoil since John's accusations and abandonment. Information regarding John's similar pattern of behavior in past years had reached my eyes and ears.
What am I supposed to tell Louise!? She's still a client of John's.
I was trying to not involve her.
How can I continue my friendship with her and not answer her question? Why did John ever put me in this situation?!
I was angry, not with Louise, but with John. It was the first time I'd really allowed myself to feel anger since John's verbal assaults.
Some two weeks later, after Louise had written in emails to me at least three different times questioning her relationship with John and his possible boundary issues - issues I avoided approaching with her but had approached with my psychologist, Dr. McColloch, evidence trickling in from others regarding Knapp - I told Louise a bit about what had happened between Knapp and I, answering her email question from a couple weeks earlier.
I told her I was seeing my local psychologist to help repair the damage. I didn't share explicit details; I didn't want to undermine her therapy with John.
The situation was becoming more and more complex.
****
Sometime within a couple weeks after that and after more emails from Louise speculating correctly regarding John's mental illness diagnosis, I confirmed with her that her speculation was correct. I decided that as a client, she should know that about her therapist.
I began to open up to her, volunteering more about the details of what had happened with John and I. She asked questions. I answered.
About a week later, she told me she was dropping Knapp's therapy services (which he provided her pro bono)...not because of me, but because she had become uncomfortable and she didn't want to get hurt.
Within a few hours of Louise informing John that she had decided to forego John's services, he wrote her an email. His email was a response to her decision and to an email Louise had sent John some two weeks prior, an email where she shared with him that I had revealed to her that I was seeing a psychologist to help me recover from the situation with John.
Louise called me on the phone and let me know about John's email to her. She asked if I wanted a copy.
In an instant, thoughts & feelings ran through me. Would whatever he shared send me into a tailspin? Would I go into more self-doubt? Would it cause me to not move forward with the complaint? Would it confuse me more?
"No," I responded. I was afraid to actually see it in print.
After a few moments I asked if she would read it to me. She did.
My insides tensed as I listened to Louise read John's words - justification; rationalization; minimization; contortions of the circumstances that had transpired when John cut me off; laces of care and concern for Louise and for me. I felt sick and angry, stuffing both of my responses.
I declined her offer to forward me a copy; I felt I couldn't handle seeing it in text, not then.
Within a day or so, I thought I should probably have a copy of Louise & John's email exchange. I promised myself that I wouldn't read it, but I could give a hard copy to Dr. McColloch for my file. At my request Louise forwarded it.
I broke my promise to myself. Who was I fooling by burying my head in the sand? I had to face the music.
I read the email exchange not just once but multiple times comparing what John stated in his email to Louise with what John had stated in his harmful emails to me, recalling the events and my conversations with John from the past three months, mentally reviewing my and John's two-year history, hearing John's voice in my head.
Within a few hours I lay in a fetal position, crying, rocking, my husband holding me.
Knapp's words in one of his abusive emails to me from six weeks previous ran through my head, "...you destroyed our friendship...I'd find it hard to trust you again on any level..."
Knapp's words in his email to Louise ran through my head,"...I still consider Carol my friend...I'm not one to spread hurtful gossip...my words were pretty mild...I'm always open to communication unless the person is actively attacking me and my family...."
As I laying rocking, my own words ran through my head, How can I file a complaint on a friend? But friends don't do what John did to me. Do they? Maybe it was for my own good.
How can I file a complaint on a friend? How can I file a complaint on a friend?
I'm not trustworthy. I'm a terrible friend. Have I been spreading gossip? Have I attacked John's family?
How can I file a complaint on a friend? How can I file a complaint on a friend?
Over and over, the mental tapes looped.
I ended up with suicidal ideation for over a day.
************************
A few days later when Dr. McColloch read John's email to Louise, Dr. McColloch responded, "What is this man doing? What therapeutic benefit does this have for her? For you?"
I stated, "Well she did write him two weeks ago that my and John's split really bothered her and that I was having to see you." Dr. McColloch had read Louise's email too.
"That doesn't matter. He doesn't have to respond like this, clearing himself and insinuating you are as much to blame as he for the situation?! He is the therapist. He is the one that is obligated to draw the boundary lines. This is of no therapeutic value to you or to her."
Eventually, the Knapp scenario did drive a wedge in my and Louise's friendship; her communication with me became shorter and less open. I inquired a month or so after our communication seemed to change if she had gone back to Knapp. She had.
****
Louise and I still communicate every few months when I give her a call to check in and see how she's doing.
We don't discuss Knapp.
****
When John M. Knapp, LMSW, abruptly let me know that he wanted no contact with me, I immediately went to his online Google support group where I was a member and dropped my membership. The online group corresponded with the telephone support group that Knapp facilitated, a support group of which I'd been a paying participant since its inception almost two years prior.
I was a core member of that group. John had proposed to me privately the idea of me becoming a group facilitator, but I decided I wanted to remain simply a participant.
Before dropping my online membership after John's abrupt severing, I wrote a message to all the members that some things had come up and I wouldn't be in the group anymore. I didn't state the reason I had to drop - John's dissociation with me. In hindsight I wish I had. But I thought it was a "private" matter.
"Private." I've almost come to hate that word, along with the word "confidential." Two words used to silence humans. It's anathema to share what is shared with you in "confidence."
Here I was being shunned by my cult-recovery counselor. And I didn't even know what I had done wrong, though he had explicitly, harshly, and abruptly written to me accusations...accusations that I had no idea I was engaging in. But I had to consider them; after all, he had been my mental health counselor. I looked to him for advice, insight, trust.
****
Louise, another client of John's, and I had become good friends via the support group. We talked on the phone a few times each week, oftentimes daily.
What should I tell Louise? How do I hide my emotional trauma from a good friend? But I don't want to mess up her therapy she has with John. But I have to tell her more than I've written to the group via my generic message.
I felt in a no-win situation. How can I be true to myself and true to my friend without causing her harm?
I called her.
My heart in my throat and holding back tears I stated, "I had to drop from Group. I apparently committed a huge faux pas and John and I are currently not communicating. I just want to let you know. It's awkward and I'm not sure how to approach you on it. But I don't want our friendship compromised."
That's all I brought up about my and John's split.
****
Two weeks later in one of her emails, Louise asked, "Did you ever find out what you did that was so wrong?" Louise was referring to John.
My heart again jumped to my throat. A point blank question.
How was I supposed to respond?.
I had not discussed John with Louise since I let her know that John and I had a split.
How much do I share? How do I share it?
I had been in turmoil since John's accusations and abandonment. Information regarding John's similar pattern of behavior in past years had reached my eyes and ears.
What am I supposed to tell Louise!? She's still a client of John's.
I was trying to not involve her.
How can I continue my friendship with her and not answer her question? Why did John ever put me in this situation?!
I was angry, not with Louise, but with John. It was the first time I'd really allowed myself to feel anger since John's verbal assaults.
Some two weeks later, after Louise had written in emails to me at least three different times questioning her relationship with John and his possible boundary issues - issues I avoided approaching with her but had approached with my psychologist, Dr. McColloch, evidence trickling in from others regarding Knapp - I told Louise a bit about what had happened between Knapp and I, answering her email question from a couple weeks earlier.
I told her I was seeing my local psychologist to help repair the damage. I didn't share explicit details; I didn't want to undermine her therapy with John.
The situation was becoming more and more complex.
****
Sometime within a couple weeks after that and after more emails from Louise speculating correctly regarding John's mental illness diagnosis, I confirmed with her that her speculation was correct. I decided that as a client, she should know that about her therapist.
I began to open up to her, volunteering more about the details of what had happened with John and I. She asked questions. I answered.
About a week later, she told me she was dropping Knapp's therapy services (which he provided her pro bono)...not because of me, but because she had become uncomfortable and she didn't want to get hurt.
Within a few hours of Louise informing John that she had decided to forego John's services, he wrote her an email. His email was a response to her decision and to an email Louise had sent John some two weeks prior, an email where she shared with him that I had revealed to her that I was seeing a psychologist to help me recover from the situation with John.
Louise called me on the phone and let me know about John's email to her. She asked if I wanted a copy.
In an instant, thoughts & feelings ran through me. Would whatever he shared send me into a tailspin? Would I go into more self-doubt? Would it cause me to not move forward with the complaint? Would it confuse me more?
"No," I responded. I was afraid to actually see it in print.
After a few moments I asked if she would read it to me. She did.
My insides tensed as I listened to Louise read John's words - justification; rationalization; minimization; contortions of the circumstances that had transpired when John cut me off; laces of care and concern for Louise and for me. I felt sick and angry, stuffing both of my responses.
I declined her offer to forward me a copy; I felt I couldn't handle seeing it in text, not then.
Within a day or so, I thought I should probably have a copy of Louise & John's email exchange. I promised myself that I wouldn't read it, but I could give a hard copy to Dr. McColloch for my file. At my request Louise forwarded it.
I broke my promise to myself. Who was I fooling by burying my head in the sand? I had to face the music.
I read the email exchange not just once but multiple times comparing what John stated in his email to Louise with what John had stated in his harmful emails to me, recalling the events and my conversations with John from the past three months, mentally reviewing my and John's two-year history, hearing John's voice in my head.
Within a few hours I lay in a fetal position, crying, rocking, my husband holding me.
Knapp's words in one of his abusive emails to me from six weeks previous ran through my head, "...you destroyed our friendship...I'd find it hard to trust you again on any level..."
Knapp's words in his email to Louise ran through my head,"...I still consider Carol my friend...I'm not one to spread hurtful gossip...my words were pretty mild...I'm always open to communication unless the person is actively attacking me and my family...."
As I laying rocking, my own words ran through my head, How can I file a complaint on a friend? But friends don't do what John did to me. Do they? Maybe it was for my own good.
How can I file a complaint on a friend? How can I file a complaint on a friend?
I'm not trustworthy. I'm a terrible friend. Have I been spreading gossip? Have I attacked John's family?
How can I file a complaint on a friend? How can I file a complaint on a friend?
Over and over, the mental tapes looped.
I ended up with suicidal ideation for over a day.
************************
A few days later when Dr. McColloch read John's email to Louise, Dr. McColloch responded, "What is this man doing? What therapeutic benefit does this have for her? For you?"
I stated, "Well she did write him two weeks ago that my and John's split really bothered her and that I was having to see you." Dr. McColloch had read Louise's email too.
"That doesn't matter. He doesn't have to respond like this, clearing himself and insinuating you are as much to blame as he for the situation?! He is the therapist. He is the one that is obligated to draw the boundary lines. This is of no therapeutic value to you or to her."
Eventually, the Knapp scenario did drive a wedge in my and Louise's friendship; her communication with me became shorter and less open. I inquired a month or so after our communication seemed to change if she had gone back to Knapp. She had.
****
Louise and I still communicate every few months when I give her a call to check in and see how she's doing.
We don't discuss Knapp.
****
June 5, 2011
Soul Groups
*******************
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
From the archives: Written 9/28/2010
______________________________
Despair is our non-subject for this writing round.
It seems I would be able to so easily write about it, because I've been living it lately. The recent news that my bionic hip is on recall and then, last week, I got MRSA again. This time on my ass which makes doing anything, other than laying on my side, painful.
And then there is the insane, obsessive, tape in my head of John Knapp's, my ex-therapist's, voice. Of certain words. I hear the kind, caring, wonderful therapist voice. I hear the critical voice. I hear the intelligent voice. I hear the convincing voice. I hear the defensive voice.
And then the dilemma of filing a formal complaint against Knapp. I've felt in a lose-lose situation for weeks.
I wish to God this shit didn't bother me so much. I wish I could see the situation clearly.
It's embarrassing. Though no one really knows the depths of my anxiety except maybe my friend Leah. And maybe Dr. McColloch, the psychologist who has been helping me since John Knapp wrote me cutting me off because I didn't stand up for him in an argument he had with Lema. It was all online over two words. Amazing how their argument went from discussion to argument to personal attacks to accusations and then my ex-therapist blaming me for destroying his and my friendship.
I like what my son said to me the day after Knapp sent me the scathing email letting me know just how untrustworthy I was and that he wanted no contact with me in any form for a long time, blaming me for things most of which I didn't know what he was talking about, and blocking me from Skype, his email, his 800 number. As my son and I were hiking the Roan highlands, those awesome balds along the NC/TN border, stopping to pluck and enjoy wild blueberries along the way, "Mom, how can you be the one who destroyed the friendship when he ended it?"
Good point.
Still it's embarrassing.
How could I end up so deeply enmeshed, yet again, with a person who I allowed to voice and share their deepest challenges and they later turn around and verbally assault me. Much like happened with Clarissa last August.
Clarissa, who at 11 and 12 years old travelled the world with Gurumayi. In front of thousands of people at that young ripe age, leading the Guru Gita. At least that is what Clarissa told me. Clarissa who had been good friends with that guy who thinks he is Edgar Cayce reincarnated, David Wilcock. He is convinced that Clarissa is Edgar's wife reincarnated, one of the reincarnates in David's life of Edgar's "Soul Group" of whom all parallel something in Cayce's life. David didn't use Clarissa's real name on his website under her photo. But the photo was definitely Clarissa. I Google searched it one night, curious if Clarissa was telling me the truth.
Clarissa had adamantly told David to remove the photo. It was a photo taken right after Clarissa's father had died. She didn't want it on the web. David used a pseudonym for Clarissa on the web, Angelica H. I don't know where her pseudonym came from.
Clarissa lived at our home for 7 weeks in 2009, free of any charge and giving her a safe place to recuperate after growing up with the ashram and now leaving it. Maybe it was safe for her until I told her she had to find another place to go; I ended up having to leave my own house because of Clarissa's outbursts. Every week, usually at least twice a week, there were outbursts. The living situation became unhealthy for us.
I am having such a difficult time writing. Nothing is flowing. I feel stifled. I feel afraid. I feel again that old challenge I had worked so hard to overcome, of thinking that I make things up.
I put the complaint against Knapp in the mail today.
_______________________________
Note: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
********************
From the archives: Written 9/28/2010
______________________________
Despair is our non-subject for this writing round.
It seems I would be able to so easily write about it, because I've been living it lately. The recent news that my bionic hip is on recall and then, last week, I got MRSA again. This time on my ass which makes doing anything, other than laying on my side, painful.
And then there is the insane, obsessive, tape in my head of John Knapp's, my ex-therapist's, voice. Of certain words. I hear the kind, caring, wonderful therapist voice. I hear the critical voice. I hear the intelligent voice. I hear the convincing voice. I hear the defensive voice.
And then the dilemma of filing a formal complaint against Knapp. I've felt in a lose-lose situation for weeks.
I wish to God this shit didn't bother me so much. I wish I could see the situation clearly.
It's embarrassing. Though no one really knows the depths of my anxiety except maybe my friend Leah. And maybe Dr. McColloch, the psychologist who has been helping me since John Knapp wrote me cutting me off because I didn't stand up for him in an argument he had with Lema. It was all online over two words. Amazing how their argument went from discussion to argument to personal attacks to accusations and then my ex-therapist blaming me for destroying his and my friendship.
I like what my son said to me the day after Knapp sent me the scathing email letting me know just how untrustworthy I was and that he wanted no contact with me in any form for a long time, blaming me for things most of which I didn't know what he was talking about, and blocking me from Skype, his email, his 800 number. As my son and I were hiking the Roan highlands, those awesome balds along the NC/TN border, stopping to pluck and enjoy wild blueberries along the way, "Mom, how can you be the one who destroyed the friendship when he ended it?"
Good point.
Still it's embarrassing.
How could I end up so deeply enmeshed, yet again, with a person who I allowed to voice and share their deepest challenges and they later turn around and verbally assault me. Much like happened with Clarissa last August.
Clarissa, who at 11 and 12 years old travelled the world with Gurumayi. In front of thousands of people at that young ripe age, leading the Guru Gita. At least that is what Clarissa told me. Clarissa who had been good friends with that guy who thinks he is Edgar Cayce reincarnated, David Wilcock. He is convinced that Clarissa is Edgar's wife reincarnated, one of the reincarnates in David's life of Edgar's "Soul Group" of whom all parallel something in Cayce's life. David didn't use Clarissa's real name on his website under her photo. But the photo was definitely Clarissa. I Google searched it one night, curious if Clarissa was telling me the truth.
Clarissa had adamantly told David to remove the photo. It was a photo taken right after Clarissa's father had died. She didn't want it on the web. David used a pseudonym for Clarissa on the web, Angelica H. I don't know where her pseudonym came from.
Clarissa lived at our home for 7 weeks in 2009, free of any charge and giving her a safe place to recuperate after growing up with the ashram and now leaving it. Maybe it was safe for her until I told her she had to find another place to go; I ended up having to leave my own house because of Clarissa's outbursts. Every week, usually at least twice a week, there were outbursts. The living situation became unhealthy for us.
I am having such a difficult time writing. Nothing is flowing. I feel stifled. I feel afraid. I feel again that old challenge I had worked so hard to overcome, of thinking that I make things up.
I put the complaint against Knapp in the mail today.
_______________________________
June 1, 2011
In Cog Nito
aww ~ 6/01/11
non-subject: in disguise
_______________________
In disguise.
Incognito.
Cuttlefish.
I become enamored watching cuttlefish. Their backward swims. Body changing colors with the surroundings. Or does it change with their moods, or to attract potential mates and detract non-potentials?
Sepia, the ink of the cuttle, is used to form the homeopathic remedy by the same name, Sepia; a remedy known as the "woman's remedy." Women and our many moods similar to the cuttlefish with her many colors.
But men have their many moods too.
Nature has her moods. Yet the form of nature's terrain, the geological outline, stays similar. Even when tumultuous, moody tornadoes and hurricanes or tsunamis decide to reek havoc, the earth does not become incognito.
There is geographic or geological terrain changes that take place over millions of years. Still, the Pangea can be fit together like a puzzle.
After all this time, the outline remains.
Somewhat like a negative exposure. The details are hidden; yet the imprint, the shadow, is recognizable.
There are patterns to everything. Some patterns can be seen with the naked eye; I imagine many (most?) cannot.
I wonder how many of us modern humans roaming the earth with our touch pads and ear pieces recognize the patterns surrounding us, swimming within us, silently directing our moves without our awareness.
John Knapp's license registration with NY state expired as of today, June 1. My understanding from the New York Office of Professions website is that a person cannot provide therapy as a "licensed" practitioner if they are not registered. On the web, John still lists himself as a licensed master social worker that provides mental health therapy.
But it's only been one day since his registration lapsed. Perhaps he will renew late; perhaps not. Perhaps he has somehow registered in another state; perhaps not.
I wonder how long a person is allowed to pose as being licensed?
Dr. McColloch and I discussed that today; licensing and ethics and mental health practice and such. Dr. McColloch stated that John should tell anyone he services, today and forth going while John isn't registered, that John is no longer registered with the state of NY.
Dr McColloch stated that a non-registered licensee is like having no license. Otherwise, what is the point of licensing?
I brought up that NY state says on its website that a person's license is for life, but that the person must register in order to practice. And that a licensee apparently has four months from the time their license registration lapses to re-register, at least online. And that a person apparently cannot practice in the state of NY without being licensed and registered.
"But what about that four-month period, when they aren't registered? I mean it sounds like a grace period or something." I stated to Dr. McColloch as I belabored the details of semantics.
"It doesn't matter," Dr. McColloch responded. "If my registration states my license is good through a certain date, on that date, it expires if I don't re-register. If I am not registered, I can't practice. I must be registered. It's not typical for a professional to allow their license to lapse. Someone can call themselves a coach or I think maybe even a psychotherapist; but they can't state they are licensed if they aren't registered. They have to tell people that their license isn't current. They can't practice 'therapy' as a 'mental health counselor' without a registered license. Once they re-register, then they would be legal again."
I stated to Dr. McColloch, "What you just shared with me is the same thing I think that John would share. Yet..." I paused in silence.
"...Yet, he is doing the very thing that is against what he would say?" Dr. McColloch finished my sentence. "It's what people do; say one thing and do another."
"But then how can I trust anyone?" I responded.
Dr. McColloch replied, "Let me answer that by posing a question - what are the alternatives?"
I used to watch cuttlefish in the wee morning hours when I worked at Discovery Place Museum in Charlotte. I was one of the Camp-in site directors helping to oversee up to 400 people who came to our overnight camps in the museum.
I don't think the cuttlefish ever noticed us.
*********************
_____________________
To access an ongoing index regarding my experiences with Knapp, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
_____________________
non-subject: in disguise
_______________________
In disguise.
Incognito.
Cuttlefish.
I become enamored watching cuttlefish. Their backward swims. Body changing colors with the surroundings. Or does it change with their moods, or to attract potential mates and detract non-potentials?
Sepia, the ink of the cuttle, is used to form the homeopathic remedy by the same name, Sepia; a remedy known as the "woman's remedy." Women and our many moods similar to the cuttlefish with her many colors.
But men have their many moods too.
Nature has her moods. Yet the form of nature's terrain, the geological outline, stays similar. Even when tumultuous, moody tornadoes and hurricanes or tsunamis decide to reek havoc, the earth does not become incognito.
There is geographic or geological terrain changes that take place over millions of years. Still, the Pangea can be fit together like a puzzle.
After all this time, the outline remains.
Somewhat like a negative exposure. The details are hidden; yet the imprint, the shadow, is recognizable.
There are patterns to everything. Some patterns can be seen with the naked eye; I imagine many (most?) cannot.
I wonder how many of us modern humans roaming the earth with our touch pads and ear pieces recognize the patterns surrounding us, swimming within us, silently directing our moves without our awareness.
John Knapp's license registration with NY state expired as of today, June 1. My understanding from the New York Office of Professions website is that a person cannot provide therapy as a "licensed" practitioner if they are not registered. On the web, John still lists himself as a licensed master social worker that provides mental health therapy.
But it's only been one day since his registration lapsed. Perhaps he will renew late; perhaps not. Perhaps he has somehow registered in another state; perhaps not.
I wonder how long a person is allowed to pose as being licensed?
Dr. McColloch and I discussed that today; licensing and ethics and mental health practice and such. Dr. McColloch stated that John should tell anyone he services, today and forth going while John isn't registered, that John is no longer registered with the state of NY.
Dr McColloch stated that a non-registered licensee is like having no license. Otherwise, what is the point of licensing?
I brought up that NY state says on its website that a person's license is for life, but that the person must register in order to practice. And that a licensee apparently has four months from the time their license registration lapses to re-register, at least online. And that a person apparently cannot practice in the state of NY without being licensed and registered.
"But what about that four-month period, when they aren't registered? I mean it sounds like a grace period or something." I stated to Dr. McColloch as I belabored the details of semantics.
"It doesn't matter," Dr. McColloch responded. "If my registration states my license is good through a certain date, on that date, it expires if I don't re-register. If I am not registered, I can't practice. I must be registered. It's not typical for a professional to allow their license to lapse. Someone can call themselves a coach or I think maybe even a psychotherapist; but they can't state they are licensed if they aren't registered. They have to tell people that their license isn't current. They can't practice 'therapy' as a 'mental health counselor' without a registered license. Once they re-register, then they would be legal again."
I stated to Dr. McColloch, "What you just shared with me is the same thing I think that John would share. Yet..." I paused in silence.
"...Yet, he is doing the very thing that is against what he would say?" Dr. McColloch finished my sentence. "It's what people do; say one thing and do another."
"But then how can I trust anyone?" I responded.
Dr. McColloch replied, "Let me answer that by posing a question - what are the alternatives?"
I used to watch cuttlefish in the wee morning hours when I worked at Discovery Place Museum in Charlotte. I was one of the Camp-in site directors helping to oversee up to 400 people who came to our overnight camps in the museum.
I don't think the cuttlefish ever noticed us.
*********************
_____________________
To access an ongoing index regarding my experiences with Knapp, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
_____________________