Yerba and I began the trek across the balds, some 1000 acres of balds.
At times the trail was difficult to follow due to the tall grass overgrowth.
It seemed the beauty would never end.The sun's warmth, the crystal clear sky, the largeness of it all helped any worries or cares fade.
We must have been about 1/2-way up the largest bald when we stopped at a small rock outcrop to rest. We drank a bit of water and ate a snack.
I held my hand to the sky, palm straight, facing my face, my fingers flush against one another. Aligning my index finger under the sun, I measured approximately how many hours of sunlight we had left. Sun to horizon measured around 3 hand widths which translates into 3 hours.
"Yerba, I'm not sure we'll make it to 19E by 9:00. I wonder how far it is? Worst case scenario, we'll sleep on the trail. We can use my pack cover as a ground cloth. I've got my sweatshirt, pants, weather shell. We have each other and can snuggle up for warmth. Josh will probably call the rangers. I'd hate that, but that's what he would do...I mean if we peter out before 19E."
Yerba looked at me with agreement, her tongue hanging out her mouth.
After about a half-hour, "Time to go. Come on Yerbster."
It was difficult to leave the Balds and enter the woods. By that time clouds had moved in. It was chilly. The weather could change any moment, so the timing was good to re-enter density. It must have been around 7:30 or 8:00 PM.
I dug around in my pack for my headlamp. The woods get dark quickly. We were descending into the thick forest.
Footsteps mounted. Time passed. We stopped again. Water sips. Snack.
We heard faint car echoes in the the distance.
"Oh good Yerba, maybe the road is just beyond a few more curves."
But, after a few more bends, instead of a road, we found ourselves in a forest hub with no white blaze shining from any tress. The trail had simply disappeared.
"O.K. There must be a white blaze down one of these corridors."
My head lamp on high, being sure to not veer too far from the small circular open hub, I began the white-blaze-on-a-tree search. It took a long 10-minutes, but I found it.
"Here it is Yerba."
We continued descending, switch back after switch back. The car echoes had vanished; the only sound now was the woods. I don't recall any crickets or cicadas, but maybe they were singing.
"Well, Yerba, who knows how much farther we have. It could be hours. We gotta keep walking."
At that point, I reckon thus far that day, we had trekked some 11 or 12 miles.
Yerba would run ahead on the trail disappearing into the thick dark. I continually called her so that she would stop and look back. Her yellow eyes would then shine at me like laser beams, piercing the darkness.
Some four months earlier when I had been preparing for my solo debut on the AT, I had done some solo night-hiking on Mountain Trail at Pilot Mountain State Park. Yerba was not with me then. The eyes that glared back at me through that forest were eyes of deer most likely. I'd see groups of 4 or 6 eyes in the distance as I'd stop on Mountain Trail and peer into the dark distance with my head lamp shining. Once there were only two lasers, and one of the lasers winked at me. I think nature was humoring me. "It's the same out here at night as it is in day; no need to fear."
Yerba was getting tired and so was I.
****
Home Among The Balds (part 1 of 3)
The Woods Have Eyes (part 2 of 3)
Cocoon Shelter (part 3 of 3)
****
July 28, 2011
July 26, 2011
Home Among The Balds
August 3, 2010
My 19-year old son and I left at 7:15 AM Tuesday morning. We loaded the car with a day's gear for hiking, prepared for any weather due to where we were going - Roan Mountain, Tennessee, about a 2-1/2 hour drive from home.
Our plan was to begin at Carvers Gap on Hwy. 143 in Tennessee and hike some 6ish miles north on the Appalachian Trail to Overmountain Shelter and then hike back to Carver's Gap. I hadn't seen Overmountain Shelter, but had heard about it. A large barn that I'd heard backpackers speak fondly of.
My son and I had Yerba, my daughter's dog, in tow. Or maybe Yerba had us in tow.
We three hit the trail around 11:00 AM. My son prompted me to take my backpack, as opposed to my hiking hip pack, since I needed rain and weather gear, along with my food and water for the day. Weather on the Roan can change suddenly, going from clear skies and 90 degrees to rain storms and 65 degrees, in a matter of an hour or less. On more than one occasion, I'd experienced the extremes of the magical Roan.
Oh, how I love Roan Mountain. It's like a call of the wild for me. The evergreens with moss and imaginary gnomes that peek from the tiny spruces growing from the forest floor. The rhododendrons. The blueberries. The balds. The balds. The balds. The view of the ocean of mountains as far as the eye can see.
My son hikes much quicker than I, so we agreed to part and meet up at Overmountain Shelter. We had walkie-talkies with us; cell service is not reliable in the North Carolina/Tennessee Mountains. Many folks don't realize that Mt. Mitchell, North Carolina, is the highest point east of the Mississippi River in North America. Roan Mountain is almost the same height as Mt. Mitchell.
Yerba decided to stick with my son. I was solo.
The day was beautiful. Crystal clear sky. It was perfect. The temperature must have been in the 80s as a high for the day.
I'd decided to take the day off work due to some emotional trauma from the day before when my then therapist had verbally assaulted me, accused me of things I had no idea I had committed, and had abruptly and harmfully slashed communication with me adamantly stating he wanted no contact with me in any form. The situation had sent me reeling into past territory of self-blame, doubting my reality, self-distrust, feeling small, and a slew of other unhealthy emotional responses - my soul felt led to slaughter. My son had witnessed my downturn and suggested a day on the Roan.
After a few hours of hiking, I arrived at Overmountain Shelter, the large red barn graffitied with messages from years of visitors. Some backpackers were hanging out. We talked a bit. Trail talk. "Where are you from?" "How far are you going?" "Have you trekked this route before?" "Seen any bears or snakes?" "How far to the water source?"
I asked if they'd seen my son, by chance, describing his appearance. They hadn't.
I waited for over an hour, but no son. I kept trying to reach him on the walkie-talkie, but to no avail. Hmm. I had to make a decision as to which way to go. But I also needed water; my son had the filter. Someone offered their filter for me to use. I found the water source, cameled up, filled my two water bottles, returned the filter to the owner with sincere gratitude saying a silent prayer of blessing for his kindness, and decided to continue north on the AT. Worst case scenario is that my son and I miss each other and I come out at Hwy 19E some 9 miles north. Son knew I was on the trail, so I wouldn't be lost.
After about 1-1/2 miles I meet up with Yerba and my son hiking south; they had hiked about 3 miles beyond the shelter and then turned around. We discussed a plan. He'd continue south back to the car at Carvers Gap; I'd continue north and come out at Hwy. 19E. He'd drive the car over to 19E and pick me up. Estimated time of arrival for a meet up at 19E - 9:00 PM. I still had a good supply of water, so my son kept the filter with him; he was about out of water and would need to stop and refill at the shelter.
Yerba deliberated back and forth, first following me then turning about to run back to my son. Finally she stayed with me. My son ran back to me and gave me her leash. On the AT, once a hiker is deep in the trail, a good trail dog goes off leash. Yerba is a great trail dog.
I was glad to have her company. Little did I know at the time that it would be 11:00 PM before we would exit the woods and make it to Hwy. 19E.
I'd never hiked this part of the AT, this deep into this section north of the Roan, this section known as the Roan Highlands. I had no idea the pleasure and magic that awaited me as I crossed over a ridge and beheld before me the largest balds I'd ever seen with my naked eye.
I was awestruck. No words to describe the beauty before me. It was a fairy tale. A dream. There were no people, just me and Yerba and the huge spread of green fields. Crystal blue sky, large and wide. The mountain ocean as far as eye could see.
Yerba ran and ran and ran, flushing birds out from the tall grasses, her head and graceful body bounding upward through the gold and green.
I tasted the clouds. I held the sun. My heart warmed and thrilled. Tear drops of gratitude and the greatness of life.
This is life in all its grandeur. Large. Expansive. Open. Raw. Wild.
The sun kissed my cheeks. The wind stroked my skin.
Communion.
Home.
****
Home Among The Balds (part 1 of 3)
The Woods Have Eyes (part 2 of 3)
Cocoon Shelter (part 3 of 3)
****
_______________________________
My 19-year old son and I left at 7:15 AM Tuesday morning. We loaded the car with a day's gear for hiking, prepared for any weather due to where we were going - Roan Mountain, Tennessee, about a 2-1/2 hour drive from home.
Our plan was to begin at Carvers Gap on Hwy. 143 in Tennessee and hike some 6ish miles north on the Appalachian Trail to Overmountain Shelter and then hike back to Carver's Gap. I hadn't seen Overmountain Shelter, but had heard about it. A large barn that I'd heard backpackers speak fondly of.
My son and I had Yerba, my daughter's dog, in tow. Or maybe Yerba had us in tow.
We three hit the trail around 11:00 AM. My son prompted me to take my backpack, as opposed to my hiking hip pack, since I needed rain and weather gear, along with my food and water for the day. Weather on the Roan can change suddenly, going from clear skies and 90 degrees to rain storms and 65 degrees, in a matter of an hour or less. On more than one occasion, I'd experienced the extremes of the magical Roan.
Oh, how I love Roan Mountain. It's like a call of the wild for me. The evergreens with moss and imaginary gnomes that peek from the tiny spruces growing from the forest floor. The rhododendrons. The blueberries. The balds. The balds. The balds. The view of the ocean of mountains as far as the eye can see.
My son hikes much quicker than I, so we agreed to part and meet up at Overmountain Shelter. We had walkie-talkies with us; cell service is not reliable in the North Carolina/Tennessee Mountains. Many folks don't realize that Mt. Mitchell, North Carolina, is the highest point east of the Mississippi River in North America. Roan Mountain is almost the same height as Mt. Mitchell.
Yerba decided to stick with my son. I was solo.
The day was beautiful. Crystal clear sky. It was perfect. The temperature must have been in the 80s as a high for the day.
I'd decided to take the day off work due to some emotional trauma from the day before when my then therapist had verbally assaulted me, accused me of things I had no idea I had committed, and had abruptly and harmfully slashed communication with me adamantly stating he wanted no contact with me in any form. The situation had sent me reeling into past territory of self-blame, doubting my reality, self-distrust, feeling small, and a slew of other unhealthy emotional responses - my soul felt led to slaughter. My son had witnessed my downturn and suggested a day on the Roan.
After a few hours of hiking, I arrived at Overmountain Shelter, the large red barn graffitied with messages from years of visitors. Some backpackers were hanging out. We talked a bit. Trail talk. "Where are you from?" "How far are you going?" "Have you trekked this route before?" "Seen any bears or snakes?" "How far to the water source?"
I asked if they'd seen my son, by chance, describing his appearance. They hadn't.
I waited for over an hour, but no son. I kept trying to reach him on the walkie-talkie, but to no avail. Hmm. I had to make a decision as to which way to go. But I also needed water; my son had the filter. Someone offered their filter for me to use. I found the water source, cameled up, filled my two water bottles, returned the filter to the owner with sincere gratitude saying a silent prayer of blessing for his kindness, and decided to continue north on the AT. Worst case scenario is that my son and I miss each other and I come out at Hwy 19E some 9 miles north. Son knew I was on the trail, so I wouldn't be lost.
After about 1-1/2 miles I meet up with Yerba and my son hiking south; they had hiked about 3 miles beyond the shelter and then turned around. We discussed a plan. He'd continue south back to the car at Carvers Gap; I'd continue north and come out at Hwy. 19E. He'd drive the car over to 19E and pick me up. Estimated time of arrival for a meet up at 19E - 9:00 PM. I still had a good supply of water, so my son kept the filter with him; he was about out of water and would need to stop and refill at the shelter.
Yerba deliberated back and forth, first following me then turning about to run back to my son. Finally she stayed with me. My son ran back to me and gave me her leash. On the AT, once a hiker is deep in the trail, a good trail dog goes off leash. Yerba is a great trail dog.
I was glad to have her company. Little did I know at the time that it would be 11:00 PM before we would exit the woods and make it to Hwy. 19E.
I'd never hiked this part of the AT, this deep into this section north of the Roan, this section known as the Roan Highlands. I had no idea the pleasure and magic that awaited me as I crossed over a ridge and beheld before me the largest balds I'd ever seen with my naked eye.
I was awestruck. No words to describe the beauty before me. It was a fairy tale. A dream. There were no people, just me and Yerba and the huge spread of green fields. Crystal blue sky, large and wide. The mountain ocean as far as eye could see.
Yerba ran and ran and ran, flushing birds out from the tall grasses, her head and graceful body bounding upward through the gold and green.
I tasted the clouds. I held the sun. My heart warmed and thrilled. Tear drops of gratitude and the greatness of life.
This is life in all its grandeur. Large. Expansive. Open. Raw. Wild.
The sun kissed my cheeks. The wind stroked my skin.
Communion.
Home.
 |
| 0803//2010. Grandpup Yerba along the Roan Highlands... the trail "melting into the horizon" as clouds roll in. |
****
Home Among The Balds (part 1 of 3)
The Woods Have Eyes (part 2 of 3)
Cocoon Shelter (part 3 of 3)
****
_______________________________
July 25, 2011
Monday Morning Thoughts on Tithing
What to write on a Monday morning.
Monday morning. Now The Mamas & The Papas runs through my mind.
For decades, my husband and I financially supported The Way International. We were taught to tithe and to give beyond the tithe. The tithe (which is 10% of one's income) guaranteed that our material and physical needs would be met. Giving beyond the tithe (which The Way calls "abundant sharing") guaranteed greater spiritual understanding and enlightenment.
So what if one practices the tithe and abundant sharing and the person does not receive the benefits touted (ie: health in body & mind, all financial and material needs met, spiritual understanding and enlightenment)?
The answer? The giver's "heart was not right." The giver's attitude was giving to get or giving just because s/he has to, not giving to give.
The person is wrong, the doctrine is right...
...even when the practice of the doctrine is applied to the best ability the person can muster. If the results don't follow, the effort just wasn't good enough.
As the founding president of The Way, Victor Paul Wierwille, wrote in his booklet, Christians Should Be Prosperous: "Tithing without love for God or a recognition of His goodness to you is sheer folly. The law of prosperity operates from the inside out. The desire must be right, else the gift without the giver is bare. But when the desire within man is right, his minimum expression will be a tithe." (ouch. uugh. brain scramble. let me out the door now.) According to Wierwille, we must first "dedicate and devote the coin of our hearts to our Creator;" then the tithe works, but not without that.
O.K.
I no longer believe that. Too much pudding that was only syrup, perhaps.
Life happens - good and bad. Sometimes us humanoids bring both the good and bad upon ourselves, sometimes not.
These days, hubby and I give financially as we feel led to do so. Most often, that is given to individuals in need - like the single teenage mom at the gas pump the other day, in tears because her (supposedly) last $7.00 fueled her tank with only a little over a gallons worth of gas. Sometimes we give to charities or projects like 6x6, Engaged Zen Foundation, the local food bank, Journey Free, and others
Maybe someday, there will be no need for money. I imagine that would only happen in the new heavens and earth, if such a time is coming.
Monday. Today, I'll be thankful for breath, for life, for sunshine, for rain.
________________________
Monday morning. Now The Mamas & The Papas runs through my mind.
For decades, my husband and I financially supported The Way International. We were taught to tithe and to give beyond the tithe. The tithe (which is 10% of one's income) guaranteed that our material and physical needs would be met. Giving beyond the tithe (which The Way calls "abundant sharing") guaranteed greater spiritual understanding and enlightenment.
So what if one practices the tithe and abundant sharing and the person does not receive the benefits touted (ie: health in body & mind, all financial and material needs met, spiritual understanding and enlightenment)?
The answer? The giver's "heart was not right." The giver's attitude was giving to get or giving just because s/he has to, not giving to give.
The person is wrong, the doctrine is right...
...even when the practice of the doctrine is applied to the best ability the person can muster. If the results don't follow, the effort just wasn't good enough.
As the founding president of The Way, Victor Paul Wierwille, wrote in his booklet, Christians Should Be Prosperous: "Tithing without love for God or a recognition of His goodness to you is sheer folly. The law of prosperity operates from the inside out. The desire must be right, else the gift without the giver is bare. But when the desire within man is right, his minimum expression will be a tithe." (ouch. uugh. brain scramble. let me out the door now.) According to Wierwille, we must first "dedicate and devote the coin of our hearts to our Creator;" then the tithe works, but not without that.
O.K.
I no longer believe that. Too much pudding that was only syrup, perhaps.
Life happens - good and bad. Sometimes us humanoids bring both the good and bad upon ourselves, sometimes not.
These days, hubby and I give financially as we feel led to do so. Most often, that is given to individuals in need - like the single teenage mom at the gas pump the other day, in tears because her (supposedly) last $7.00 fueled her tank with only a little over a gallons worth of gas. Sometimes we give to charities or projects like 6x6, Engaged Zen Foundation, the local food bank, Journey Free, and others
Maybe someday, there will be no need for money. I imagine that would only happen in the new heavens and earth, if such a time is coming.
Monday. Today, I'll be thankful for breath, for life, for sunshine, for rain.
________________________
July 23, 2011
The Way It Is
Below is a comment from my blog entitled *soulfeet.
I found the comment intriguing and thought-provoking for anyone involved with The Way especially during its years under the leadership of its founding president, Victor Paul Wierwille.
I don't agree with everything Jimbo brings up in the comment; but I relate to most every word. I no longer think of myself as a 'believer' so I don't necessarily analyze circumstances from that perspective. Yet, for the most part, I respect those who do.
BTW, I have fond memories of my Word Over the World Ambassador year in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It was a year unlike any other. But then again, many a year is like that.
[*Soulfeet presents approximately one year of my personal journal transcripts from 1982 and 1983 while I was in-residence with the 13th Way Corps, the leadership training program of The Way International.]
Click here to read the comment with context on soulfeet.
_________________________
Submitted on 2011/06/11 at 5:27 pm
by Jimbo
Dear [...] Carol,
[...]
We met when you were a W.O.W. in Milwaukee WI.
My smile turned upside down from some things but it was evasive to confront. The pressure to get a class together brought out the worst in some people. That was not the intent but it happened. Exponential growth required more twig coordinators; more leaders who were not sufficiently seasoned for the task. The drive for recognition was never part of the program but it was because many had inflated egos that were not rooted and grounded in love. People at varying degrees of participation were motivated out of their own lusts; the four things Christ was tempted with. The ministry changed and a culture of legalism fell right into place. Tares sprung up and choked out the good seed. SNS teachings became pre-approved, edited and are read. The spirit is quenched. The gift ministries were polluted and compromised.
On two occasions I remember Dr. saying out loud that he wanted to throw a match on the whole thing (TWI), but all he knew to do was to keep teaching. That is all he was instructed to do. He also warned that TWI could become the cruelest of religions if it became legalistic. What was the ‘open door’ for legalism? The transition of ABS into a measure of performance: WORKS; one’s effectiveness was measured in works and statistics. Commitment was questioned indirectly and directly, so unbelief issued in lackluster performance by the novices in leadership positions who had no business lording over people. A competitive atmosphere was developing among leadership and it was a byproduct of unbelief. WTF, over.
Giving is a good principle but legalism made it sin. The Tithe was never about money and it was unacceptable to compare abundant sharing to the Tithe; we were not bound by the Law or anything addressed to the Jews – so why did we live like we were Jews bound by laws and traditions? Remember when Dr. put his foot down on the car washes and ‘bake sales’ to raise money for the WOW auditorium? He sure did because it was wrong. Craig stopped ‘love offerings and gifts’ in ’97 and boy did that cause a stir. ABS either worked where all trusted God or it did not. Howard threw a few pitches out there for the first million dollar ABS in the 80’s and that was wrong; talk to God Howard. What is left of the ministry is gliding on a big fat savings account as properties are liquidated. Let it rot with them, they went the way of Balaam.
As a W.O.W. I was to turn over my earnings to a family fund. Pure financial abuse and not from International. I did it because I thought it was right and was given $40.00 at the ROA to believe God to get to my job, home and things, 2,300 miles away by my WOW Corps Branch leader… what a phony. Her biggest desire was to be on staff at International and be close in to the good people and marry some MOG stud. My earnings paid for Corps sponsorship and debts but not my own. I financed not one but several such fantasies that year. The tares were very imbedded and I have no fellowship with them anymore. It is okay to walk away. I found Dr.’s SNS teachings online and they are as good as ever.
The Corps in the field promoted the idea ‘gifts’ to leadership. One Twig coordinator’s wife wanted to take a special love offering for a limb leader and knew what the person desired: Crystal candlestick holders.
What was screwed up is the lack of ‘love cash offerings’ so this suck-up could pay for the things she bought and would present. It was all her idea and glory. These bribes blinded the recipients to the point that they saw no harm in the act. The people were to observe and respect leadership in a traditional way so they would be as coordinators, worthy of the same. The desire to be close to leadership was not founded in love but in the need for recognition and works. Cash gifts to visiting clergy were nothing less than bribes and basically said that ABS did not work. The last Twig coordinator I met with said of himself that he had a long suit to teach the bible while being an absolute failure to witness to a person. I asked him regarding the tithe and what part was kept by the first tithe’r recorded, he said 90%. Not in my book!
The desire for recognition is a love problem. If someone does not know God loves them to the point where they quit doing things for recognition, then they will do things for recognition and worship. TWI was corrupted by novices who acted within the framework to abuse truth with lies. I was once asked by a man for advice who was going to marry a woman he was not approved to marry by the Limb coordinators. He was destined for greater things and perhaps a notch in the belt of leadership looking to find quotas – he was an effective teacher and adept in God’s Word. The condemnation ruined the marriage internally in time. The ‘man of God’ who declared it wrong, sowed the seeds of condemnation that ‘God did not approve’. That is religion and the couple could not believe otherwise. The wedge that split them was the beginnings of denominational cultural error. Nothing like finding a soul mate and being told it is sin -and it happened often. Tampering with people’s lives was not part of the plan, it became that way because of legalism. Teachings to counter legalism fell on deaf ears so one must distinguish between the teachings that were just and the culture that was unjust. Religion is what men do to men in the name of God. The adversary found a foothold and took advantage of a good thing. You would be surprised at the reverence one clergy showed me because I met a certain man. How disgusting that reverence was and this man had his house filled with all kinds of gifts in the image of lighthouses.
It seems people were very sly in handling God’s Word. What TWI was and became are two different things. Dr. knew from the beginning that large numbers would compound problems and without sterling leadership in the field, all was subject to legalism and corruption. He did what he knew best and taught truth versus tradition, to hell with the world and the ministry and the tares.
The fellowships are dead from legalism and forbidding the teaching of any unapproved material just like a denomination holds to. The truth does not abide there. The gift ministries are presumptuous and are blinded by legalism and bribes. Just remember the good and smile, we are not long for this world.
Keep the hope and live like it will happen because it will.
_________________________
[end comment]
I found the comment intriguing and thought-provoking for anyone involved with The Way especially during its years under the leadership of its founding president, Victor Paul Wierwille.
I don't agree with everything Jimbo brings up in the comment; but I relate to most every word. I no longer think of myself as a 'believer' so I don't necessarily analyze circumstances from that perspective. Yet, for the most part, I respect those who do.
BTW, I have fond memories of my Word Over the World Ambassador year in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It was a year unlike any other. But then again, many a year is like that.
[*Soulfeet presents approximately one year of my personal journal transcripts from 1982 and 1983 while I was in-residence with the 13th Way Corps, the leadership training program of The Way International.]
Click here to read the comment with context on soulfeet.
_________________________
Submitted on 2011/06/11 at 5:27 pm
by Jimbo
Dear [...] Carol,
[...]
We met when you were a W.O.W. in Milwaukee WI.
My smile turned upside down from some things but it was evasive to confront. The pressure to get a class together brought out the worst in some people. That was not the intent but it happened. Exponential growth required more twig coordinators; more leaders who were not sufficiently seasoned for the task. The drive for recognition was never part of the program but it was because many had inflated egos that were not rooted and grounded in love. People at varying degrees of participation were motivated out of their own lusts; the four things Christ was tempted with. The ministry changed and a culture of legalism fell right into place. Tares sprung up and choked out the good seed. SNS teachings became pre-approved, edited and are read. The spirit is quenched. The gift ministries were polluted and compromised.
On two occasions I remember Dr. saying out loud that he wanted to throw a match on the whole thing (TWI), but all he knew to do was to keep teaching. That is all he was instructed to do. He also warned that TWI could become the cruelest of religions if it became legalistic. What was the ‘open door’ for legalism? The transition of ABS into a measure of performance: WORKS; one’s effectiveness was measured in works and statistics. Commitment was questioned indirectly and directly, so unbelief issued in lackluster performance by the novices in leadership positions who had no business lording over people. A competitive atmosphere was developing among leadership and it was a byproduct of unbelief. WTF, over.
Giving is a good principle but legalism made it sin. The Tithe was never about money and it was unacceptable to compare abundant sharing to the Tithe; we were not bound by the Law or anything addressed to the Jews – so why did we live like we were Jews bound by laws and traditions? Remember when Dr. put his foot down on the car washes and ‘bake sales’ to raise money for the WOW auditorium? He sure did because it was wrong. Craig stopped ‘love offerings and gifts’ in ’97 and boy did that cause a stir. ABS either worked where all trusted God or it did not. Howard threw a few pitches out there for the first million dollar ABS in the 80’s and that was wrong; talk to God Howard. What is left of the ministry is gliding on a big fat savings account as properties are liquidated. Let it rot with them, they went the way of Balaam.
As a W.O.W. I was to turn over my earnings to a family fund. Pure financial abuse and not from International. I did it because I thought it was right and was given $40.00 at the ROA to believe God to get to my job, home and things, 2,300 miles away by my WOW Corps Branch leader… what a phony. Her biggest desire was to be on staff at International and be close in to the good people and marry some MOG stud. My earnings paid for Corps sponsorship and debts but not my own. I financed not one but several such fantasies that year. The tares were very imbedded and I have no fellowship with them anymore. It is okay to walk away. I found Dr.’s SNS teachings online and they are as good as ever.
The Corps in the field promoted the idea ‘gifts’ to leadership. One Twig coordinator’s wife wanted to take a special love offering for a limb leader and knew what the person desired: Crystal candlestick holders.
What was screwed up is the lack of ‘love cash offerings’ so this suck-up could pay for the things she bought and would present. It was all her idea and glory. These bribes blinded the recipients to the point that they saw no harm in the act. The people were to observe and respect leadership in a traditional way so they would be as coordinators, worthy of the same. The desire to be close to leadership was not founded in love but in the need for recognition and works. Cash gifts to visiting clergy were nothing less than bribes and basically said that ABS did not work. The last Twig coordinator I met with said of himself that he had a long suit to teach the bible while being an absolute failure to witness to a person. I asked him regarding the tithe and what part was kept by the first tithe’r recorded, he said 90%. Not in my book!
The desire for recognition is a love problem. If someone does not know God loves them to the point where they quit doing things for recognition, then they will do things for recognition and worship. TWI was corrupted by novices who acted within the framework to abuse truth with lies. I was once asked by a man for advice who was going to marry a woman he was not approved to marry by the Limb coordinators. He was destined for greater things and perhaps a notch in the belt of leadership looking to find quotas – he was an effective teacher and adept in God’s Word. The condemnation ruined the marriage internally in time. The ‘man of God’ who declared it wrong, sowed the seeds of condemnation that ‘God did not approve’. That is religion and the couple could not believe otherwise. The wedge that split them was the beginnings of denominational cultural error. Nothing like finding a soul mate and being told it is sin -and it happened often. Tampering with people’s lives was not part of the plan, it became that way because of legalism. Teachings to counter legalism fell on deaf ears so one must distinguish between the teachings that were just and the culture that was unjust. Religion is what men do to men in the name of God. The adversary found a foothold and took advantage of a good thing. You would be surprised at the reverence one clergy showed me because I met a certain man. How disgusting that reverence was and this man had his house filled with all kinds of gifts in the image of lighthouses.
It seems people were very sly in handling God’s Word. What TWI was and became are two different things. Dr. knew from the beginning that large numbers would compound problems and without sterling leadership in the field, all was subject to legalism and corruption. He did what he knew best and taught truth versus tradition, to hell with the world and the ministry and the tares.
The fellowships are dead from legalism and forbidding the teaching of any unapproved material just like a denomination holds to. The truth does not abide there. The gift ministries are presumptuous and are blinded by legalism and bribes. Just remember the good and smile, we are not long for this world.
Keep the hope and live like it will happen because it will.
_________________________
[end comment]
July 22, 2011
"More" Matters ~ Therapist-Client Perimeters
_________________________
This morning I completed bringing forward the private journal/memoir pennings I found on my computer in regard to my processing through the situation, the trauma, the emotional upheaval in regard (thus far) to my experience with my ex-cult-recovery counselor.
As stated in another blog entry, some material was not brought forth. Some probably will never be.
The pieces I have brought forth are only the top of the iceberg.
In July, 2011, "more" was brought to my attention, further validating my experiences. Yet with the validation came another almost tailspin of wrestling again with my own gremlins. What do I bring forth? How much? How do I walk away? Who can I trust? I promised to not share the "more" publicly. For now, that promise remains and probably always will. (I say "probably" because I seldom use absolutes like "never".) I'm thankful to the "more" individual for their sharing and insights.
How much more will come forth in the form of memoir and journaling surrounding all this? I do not know.
In bringing the pieces forward, I had to re-read them. That was embarrassing for me. Yet, I hope beyond hope, that anyone who reads any of this jibberish can see the deep impact the therapist/client relationship has. There is an intimacy that develops. It's not necessarily romantic, though that sometimes happens. That (romantic) was not the situation in my case.
In June, 2010, as I was endeavoring to navigate the dual relationship(s) with my now ex-therapist, I found the following short essay:
You and Your Therapist: Part II. Therapy Love written by Dr. Marlin S. Potash.
Perhaps Dr. Potash's essay will help some readers understand a snippet of the client perspective in a therapeutic relationship.
_________________________
************************
To access an ongoing index regarding my experiences with my ex-therapist, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
************************
This morning I completed bringing forward the private journal/memoir pennings I found on my computer in regard to my processing through the situation, the trauma, the emotional upheaval in regard (thus far) to my experience with my ex-cult-recovery counselor.
As stated in another blog entry, some material was not brought forth. Some probably will never be.
The pieces I have brought forth are only the top of the iceberg.
In July, 2011, "more" was brought to my attention, further validating my experiences. Yet with the validation came another almost tailspin of wrestling again with my own gremlins. What do I bring forth? How much? How do I walk away? Who can I trust? I promised to not share the "more" publicly. For now, that promise remains and probably always will. (I say "probably" because I seldom use absolutes like "never".) I'm thankful to the "more" individual for their sharing and insights.
How much more will come forth in the form of memoir and journaling surrounding all this? I do not know.
In bringing the pieces forward, I had to re-read them. That was embarrassing for me. Yet, I hope beyond hope, that anyone who reads any of this jibberish can see the deep impact the therapist/client relationship has. There is an intimacy that develops. It's not necessarily romantic, though that sometimes happens. That (romantic) was not the situation in my case.
In June, 2010, as I was endeavoring to navigate the dual relationship(s) with my now ex-therapist, I found the following short essay:
You and Your Therapist: Part II. Therapy Love written by Dr. Marlin S. Potash.
Perhaps Dr. Potash's essay will help some readers understand a snippet of the client perspective in a therapeutic relationship.
_________________________
************************
To access an ongoing index regarding my experiences with my ex-therapist, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
************************
journal entry ~ june 6, 2011
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
june 6, 2011
I recently read an article entitled The Three Faces of Victim.
The basis of the article stems from a theory set forth by Stephen Karpman.
As I was reading, I very much resonated with the outlook that our truth is how we perceive life at any given stage.
As time progresses our perception(s) may change. The facts remain the same; how we perceive those facts and the impact the facts have on our self evolves, adapts, intensifies, detensifies as we look at the situation from various angles and/or as we gain more understanding of our self or the other(s) in the circumstance(s).
Yet, I disagree we make our reality, so to speak.
My father's car wreck that left him a quadriplegic was not a reality that he made. He was in a head-on automobile collision. He didn't intend that to happen. It never entered his mind.
How he (and we as a family) dealt with that reality was up to us. That is different than creating the reality.
There are victims. There are rescuers. There are persecutors.
****************************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
june 6, 2011
I recently read an article entitled The Three Faces of Victim.
The basis of the article stems from a theory set forth by Stephen Karpman.
As I was reading, I very much resonated with the outlook that our truth is how we perceive life at any given stage.
As time progresses our perception(s) may change. The facts remain the same; how we perceive those facts and the impact the facts have on our self evolves, adapts, intensifies, detensifies as we look at the situation from various angles and/or as we gain more understanding of our self or the other(s) in the circumstance(s).
Yet, I disagree we make our reality, so to speak.
My father's car wreck that left him a quadriplegic was not a reality that he made. He was in a head-on automobile collision. He didn't intend that to happen. It never entered his mind.
How he (and we as a family) dealt with that reality was up to us. That is different than creating the reality.
There are victims. There are rescuers. There are persecutors.
****************************
journal entry ~ april 12, 2011
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
april 12, 2011
As I witness the Center for Healing Spiritual and Cultic Abuse solicit and gain support from prominent individuals, I have a few different reactions. My stomach flips and feels sick as the the synapses respond knowing the hypocrisy on which Knapp founded the Center. I regulate that response with words from someone who has been helping through all this: "He is a shyster and shyster will do what they do. His organization may be wildly successful, just like other gurus." Then I reach toward acceptance that I have no real place in the anti-cult realm, or in the realm of standing 'against' something. John touts he doesn't and isn't going to be that anymore - be among the anti-cult ilk..and where he wrote over on the BAoL blog, 'no more nasty Twitter comments from me'. But I believe that about like I believed that GreaseSpot Cafe was going to close down; that is - I'll believe it when I see it.
How do I continue to write my story without that connection to the cult-recovery realm? How does one walk away?
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
april 12, 2011
As I witness the Center for Healing Spiritual and Cultic Abuse solicit and gain support from prominent individuals, I have a few different reactions. My stomach flips and feels sick as the the synapses respond knowing the hypocrisy on which Knapp founded the Center. I regulate that response with words from someone who has been helping through all this: "He is a shyster and shyster will do what they do. His organization may be wildly successful, just like other gurus." Then I reach toward acceptance that I have no real place in the anti-cult realm, or in the realm of standing 'against' something. John touts he doesn't and isn't going to be that anymore - be among the anti-cult ilk..and where he wrote over on the BAoL blog, 'no more nasty Twitter comments from me'. But I believe that about like I believed that GreaseSpot Cafe was going to close down; that is - I'll believe it when I see it.
How do I continue to write my story without that connection to the cult-recovery realm? How does one walk away?
***********************
journal entry ~ april 6, 2011
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
april 6, 2011
The more I read of John's antics, the worse my stomach feels.
He is not who he appears to be, which is a licensed professional in good company with a good reputation and of a sound mind, someone who has overcome his challenges and mental illness, someone who supposedly hates abuse and is transparent, someone who is not prejudice against cults, and I don't know what else at the moment.
It all makes me sick to my stomach. I feel alone as I sound a horn regarding the situation. But that is all I can do.
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
april 6, 2011
The more I read of John's antics, the worse my stomach feels.
He is not who he appears to be, which is a licensed professional in good company with a good reputation and of a sound mind, someone who has overcome his challenges and mental illness, someone who supposedly hates abuse and is transparent, someone who is not prejudice against cults, and I don't know what else at the moment.
It all makes me sick to my stomach. I feel alone as I sound a horn regarding the situation. But that is all I can do.
***********************
journal entry ~ march 10, 2011
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
march 10, 2011 ~ 1:40 AM
I just got home from work. I'm going to have to go back for 2 hours tomorrow. I think I'll go tomorrow night. Hmm...I could go in from 9:00 to 11:00 and have all done that needs to be done.
I'll leave a note for Lewis that I didn't have time to tally the green cards. I'll do them Thursday, 3/17, unless something else is really pressing. I'd like to tally letters A through M. Then in April tally letters N through Z.
My days have been dizzily busy. I am finding that I have to take time to write in order to feel connected. I refuse to allow the pressure of growth and so-called progress to usurp my traction in life.
Traction, like when one grips the handle bars that steer the bike on which the wheels are turning gripping the road or the trail. Hmm...there are so many trails and so much to discover.
Tonight I had that old feeling of being unintelligent. It's a childlike feeling, in a bad sense. Like I'm not good enough. I think it was my photographs with all my blemishes and fat. My face looks like I have warts with my big pores and scars and raised, flesh-colored mole-like bumps that I don't know what they are.
I feel so ugly.
I feel dumb.
I feel unprofessional.
I feel dirty.
I want to believe in myself.
Ahh...remember my DBT radical statements....1000 decisions have led to this moment. There is a reason I'm fat and a reason I have blemishes and a reason I feel dirty.
But, I'm not ugly, ugly.
So it's o.k.
I am a good person. I must keep telling myself that.
Why John Knapp was cruel to me is because he is a narcissist. Plus he has done similar to others.
Now I got distracted with my photos for my site.
Can I do this business? Yes, I can. I can be professional and responsible. I'm not a child; I am an adult. Even if I don't feel like it, I can act like it.
I don't have to rush. Take my time.
*******
Got my photos picked for the website.
Tomorrow:
Bills
Computer
Packages for Cindy and Joe and Sarah
Write Sarah
Pack my pack
Lewis's 2 hours
Call: Katelin & Denise & Leah
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
march 10, 2011 ~ 1:40 AM
I just got home from work. I'm going to have to go back for 2 hours tomorrow. I think I'll go tomorrow night. Hmm...I could go in from 9:00 to 11:00 and have all done that needs to be done.
I'll leave a note for Lewis that I didn't have time to tally the green cards. I'll do them Thursday, 3/17, unless something else is really pressing. I'd like to tally letters A through M. Then in April tally letters N through Z.
My days have been dizzily busy. I am finding that I have to take time to write in order to feel connected. I refuse to allow the pressure of growth and so-called progress to usurp my traction in life.
Traction, like when one grips the handle bars that steer the bike on which the wheels are turning gripping the road or the trail. Hmm...there are so many trails and so much to discover.
Tonight I had that old feeling of being unintelligent. It's a childlike feeling, in a bad sense. Like I'm not good enough. I think it was my photographs with all my blemishes and fat. My face looks like I have warts with my big pores and scars and raised, flesh-colored mole-like bumps that I don't know what they are.
I feel so ugly.
I feel dumb.
I feel unprofessional.
I feel dirty.
I want to believe in myself.
Ahh...remember my DBT radical statements....1000 decisions have led to this moment. There is a reason I'm fat and a reason I have blemishes and a reason I feel dirty.
But, I'm not ugly, ugly.
So it's o.k.
I am a good person. I must keep telling myself that.
Why John Knapp was cruel to me is because he is a narcissist. Plus he has done similar to others.
Now I got distracted with my photos for my site.
Can I do this business? Yes, I can. I can be professional and responsible. I'm not a child; I am an adult. Even if I don't feel like it, I can act like it.
I don't have to rush. Take my time.
*******
Got my photos picked for the website.
Tomorrow:
Bills
Computer
Packages for Cindy and Joe and Sarah
Write Sarah
Pack my pack
Lewis's 2 hours
Call: Katelin & Denise & Leah
***********************
journal entry ~ march 6, 2011
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry rendition
march 6, 2011
12:14 AM
My god-dog, is sleeping over here tonight through Tuesday night. He is such a sweetie.
Yerba was here last night and tonight. It's fun and fascinating to watch them play. Their teeth look so ferocious; yet, they know just the right jaw pressure to use for play. I hear their teeth click each other as they tussle with mouths wide open. I guess I could name it the game of jaws...or dawg-jawing.
Last night, in the wee morning hours, I peeked in on The Center for Healing Spiritual and Cultic Abuse's website, the CHSCA. That's John Knapp's new non-profit. It appears to be up and running. I was cut to the heart, and I felt sick to my stomach.
It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.
It seems silly, I guess. But I can't deny the pain it causes. It's been seven months now since John cut me down to the size of a non-person and then cut me off. It was like two swoops with a long dagger. In one journal entry back in August or September I called it a slice and hatchet.
I saw that David is still a part of the CHSCA staff. So weird, David who doesn't believe that [certain illness] even exists, working with John. Perhaps John has shared about that with David, but I doubt it.
I saw Mary is a part of the CHSCA team too. That probably hurt more than anything. Maybe Mary wasn't a client of John's, but I'd bet money that she recently was. I did send the investigator the information regarding Mary and that I wondered if she might be a client of John's.
After my gut wrench when I saw the site for the Center, reminding me that I was going to have a platform, so to speak, there...I felt jilted. I felt used. But what was I used for? That, I am not sure.
Here is a cult recovery counselor setting up a cult recovery non-profit service to help folks who are exiting groups, but yet my experience with that counselor ended up much the same as with a cult.
I also noticed an article that looked like it was written by Janja.
I don't know about any of these cult-recovery people anymore. The whole field seems like just another power-hungry group. Except for Karen. But then the ICSA seems to be more about helping the individual. But I could be wrong there too.
I had to take two Xanax last night after I saw John's non-profit site. I can't go back there for a long while. It plain old hurts too much.
I cursed John in a prayer, hoping the non-profit fails. I did the same again today.
I then brought to mind that which I have control over and which I promised to myself regarding this whole fiasco.
This morning I posted a retraction on a site where I had previously recommended John. My retraction hasn't been approved yet. And I wasn't hateful in what I wrote. But I forgot to copy and save it. Hopefully it will be approved soon.
I wrote so as not to succumb to silencing myself and to be truthful.
I then reminded myself to be open to possible various outcomes. I have to walk away and do so with some integrity. I will publish any writing about it on my time table, which means when I want to. That may be soon, may be later, may be never.
I wonder if it's true what I heard...that John has or at least 10 years ago had {...} collection that is important to him. It's just a so-what thing, but on the other hand it adds to the mix of someone who isn't what he appears.
John didn't even respect my request to take me off as moderator and administrator of his online discussion board which he re-activated last month.
And here I am concerned about hurting him if I post my story.
What a jerk.
I registered my domain name today for my new business. I look forward to caring for the beloved critters.
Dawg-jawing. Maybe dog is man's best friend.
*********************
[end entry. A rendition was also posted here.]
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry rendition
march 6, 2011
12:14 AM
My god-dog, is sleeping over here tonight through Tuesday night. He is such a sweetie.
Yerba was here last night and tonight. It's fun and fascinating to watch them play. Their teeth look so ferocious; yet, they know just the right jaw pressure to use for play. I hear their teeth click each other as they tussle with mouths wide open. I guess I could name it the game of jaws...or dawg-jawing.
Last night, in the wee morning hours, I peeked in on The Center for Healing Spiritual and Cultic Abuse's website, the CHSCA. That's John Knapp's new non-profit. It appears to be up and running. I was cut to the heart, and I felt sick to my stomach.
It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.
It seems silly, I guess. But I can't deny the pain it causes. It's been seven months now since John cut me down to the size of a non-person and then cut me off. It was like two swoops with a long dagger. In one journal entry back in August or September I called it a slice and hatchet.
I saw that David is still a part of the CHSCA staff. So weird, David who doesn't believe that [certain illness] even exists, working with John. Perhaps John has shared about that with David, but I doubt it.
I saw Mary is a part of the CHSCA team too. That probably hurt more than anything. Maybe Mary wasn't a client of John's, but I'd bet money that she recently was. I did send the investigator the information regarding Mary and that I wondered if she might be a client of John's.
After my gut wrench when I saw the site for the Center, reminding me that I was going to have a platform, so to speak, there...I felt jilted. I felt used. But what was I used for? That, I am not sure.
Here is a cult recovery counselor setting up a cult recovery non-profit service to help folks who are exiting groups, but yet my experience with that counselor ended up much the same as with a cult.
I also noticed an article that looked like it was written by Janja.
I don't know about any of these cult-recovery people anymore. The whole field seems like just another power-hungry group. Except for Karen. But then the ICSA seems to be more about helping the individual. But I could be wrong there too.
I had to take two Xanax last night after I saw John's non-profit site. I can't go back there for a long while. It plain old hurts too much.
I cursed John in a prayer, hoping the non-profit fails. I did the same again today.
I then brought to mind that which I have control over and which I promised to myself regarding this whole fiasco.
- speak my truth
- uphold my integrity
- not succumb to silencing myself
- be an advocate for me
- be truthful
- be open to possible various outcomes
This morning I posted a retraction on a site where I had previously recommended John. My retraction hasn't been approved yet. And I wasn't hateful in what I wrote. But I forgot to copy and save it. Hopefully it will be approved soon.
I wrote so as not to succumb to silencing myself and to be truthful.
I then reminded myself to be open to possible various outcomes. I have to walk away and do so with some integrity. I will publish any writing about it on my time table, which means when I want to. That may be soon, may be later, may be never.
I wonder if it's true what I heard...that John has or at least 10 years ago had {...} collection that is important to him. It's just a so-what thing, but on the other hand it adds to the mix of someone who isn't what he appears.
John didn't even respect my request to take me off as moderator and administrator of his online discussion board which he re-activated last month.
And here I am concerned about hurting him if I post my story.
What a jerk.
I registered my domain name today for my new business. I look forward to caring for the beloved critters.
Dawg-jawing. Maybe dog is man's best friend.
*********************
[end entry. A rendition was also posted here.]
July 21, 2011
~ when things began to get good ~
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
when things began to get good
march 2, 2011
Last night I went to bed around 1:30 AM. I'd gotten home from work around 12:15 AM, eaten some oatmeal while watching part of an infomercial advertising the Ahh-bra which sounded like such great boob-back-belly magic that I had to look up reviews on the computer, after which I decided to not buy the Ahh-bra - at least not now. The reviews stated the Ahh-bra isn't Ahh-inducing at all for big busted gals. Since my weight-gain from a few years back, my tee-shirt size is an extra-large which would categorize me for an extra-large Ahh-bra.
After brushing and flossing, splashing my face, re-clothing from day work to night sleep apparel, I finally laid down at 1:30 AM, crawling under the sheets and the down comforter, snuggling up beside my snoring husband, then rolling onto my back and watching the ceiling fan spin.
I like to watch slow spins. Like our ceiling fan, or like the vents on our garage roof that whirl when the breeze blows.
I watched the dark shadows on the white ceiling depicting the slow spinning wooden and woven fan blades, dim light shining from the bathroom night light. The whir of the floor fan and the hum of an air filter in the hallway creating more white to match the ceiling. Their white being the noise in the whirs, white noise that usually holds a hypnotic sway over my consciousness.
I lay on my back, closing my eyes, breathing deeply, enjoying the stretch of my body, turning the pillow over for the cold side, throwing my bare leg out of the covers to feel the cold from the top of the white down comforter. Being present to drift into sleep.
Sleep, which didn't come until over two hours later.
My mind kept going. I was on adrenalin high about the new business my husband and I are in process of purchasing - an opportunity that serendipitously found its way into my life a few weeks ago. I am purchasing a pet sitting service.
Earlier in the day while at work, I had informed my boss about the new venture, assuring him that none of my hours at work will change and that I will continue to get my work done. He is almost as excited as I am. Plus, I'll take on watching the studio dog at a reduced rate of course.
I feel nervous and excited at the same time. I'm inheriting enough clients to keep myself, my son, and one other person already working the service plenty busy. My goal is to pay back the initial investment within 1-1/2 years. In the process I'll lose weight, be forced into some scheduling lifestyle changes that I have been struggling with, and make new friends with some of the greatest creatures on earth...pets. After the 1-1/2 years, I'll actually be making money with the goal of paying off our mortgage in six years.
Oh my god. Could it be? Could it be that we could actually own our house without working until we are 80?
As I lay there, thinking about the future and the past - thinking about coming out so to speak lately over on the Way Corp Site stating that I no longer believe the Bible to be inerrant as originally given. It's not that I've lied to anyone, but I've not openly stated such in a direct manner among a venue of people still and/or once committed to the IT IS WRITTEN standard.
I felt good as I lay on our king-size tube water bed. I still need to handle the speeding ticket my son got last week. The big leak in our plumbing system needs fixing, so much so that we have to redo the ceramic tile shower in our bathroom. Then there is the mess in my house that I want to get to that has piled up since I left The Way and later had hip surgery and then after selling Mom's estate.
I never did get thank you notes written from the time of her funeral in February, 2009.
Middle-age suits me for now. Seldom do the circumstances of life take on an earth-shattering urgency, an all-importance. I think it was Picasso who stated that it takes a long time to become young.
Apparently John Knapp got a make-over. I saw a recent photo of him. It looks like he lost weight, died his hair, and got rid of his glasses. He literally looks like a different person. The photo caused me to wonder if he is having an affair with a male lover.
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
when things began to get good
march 2, 2011
Last night I went to bed around 1:30 AM. I'd gotten home from work around 12:15 AM, eaten some oatmeal while watching part of an infomercial advertising the Ahh-bra which sounded like such great boob-back-belly magic that I had to look up reviews on the computer, after which I decided to not buy the Ahh-bra - at least not now. The reviews stated the Ahh-bra isn't Ahh-inducing at all for big busted gals. Since my weight-gain from a few years back, my tee-shirt size is an extra-large which would categorize me for an extra-large Ahh-bra.
After brushing and flossing, splashing my face, re-clothing from day work to night sleep apparel, I finally laid down at 1:30 AM, crawling under the sheets and the down comforter, snuggling up beside my snoring husband, then rolling onto my back and watching the ceiling fan spin.
I like to watch slow spins. Like our ceiling fan, or like the vents on our garage roof that whirl when the breeze blows.
I watched the dark shadows on the white ceiling depicting the slow spinning wooden and woven fan blades, dim light shining from the bathroom night light. The whir of the floor fan and the hum of an air filter in the hallway creating more white to match the ceiling. Their white being the noise in the whirs, white noise that usually holds a hypnotic sway over my consciousness.
I lay on my back, closing my eyes, breathing deeply, enjoying the stretch of my body, turning the pillow over for the cold side, throwing my bare leg out of the covers to feel the cold from the top of the white down comforter. Being present to drift into sleep.
Sleep, which didn't come until over two hours later.
My mind kept going. I was on adrenalin high about the new business my husband and I are in process of purchasing - an opportunity that serendipitously found its way into my life a few weeks ago. I am purchasing a pet sitting service.
Earlier in the day while at work, I had informed my boss about the new venture, assuring him that none of my hours at work will change and that I will continue to get my work done. He is almost as excited as I am. Plus, I'll take on watching the studio dog at a reduced rate of course.
I feel nervous and excited at the same time. I'm inheriting enough clients to keep myself, my son, and one other person already working the service plenty busy. My goal is to pay back the initial investment within 1-1/2 years. In the process I'll lose weight, be forced into some scheduling lifestyle changes that I have been struggling with, and make new friends with some of the greatest creatures on earth...pets. After the 1-1/2 years, I'll actually be making money with the goal of paying off our mortgage in six years.
Oh my god. Could it be? Could it be that we could actually own our house without working until we are 80?
As I lay there, thinking about the future and the past - thinking about coming out so to speak lately over on the Way Corp Site stating that I no longer believe the Bible to be inerrant as originally given. It's not that I've lied to anyone, but I've not openly stated such in a direct manner among a venue of people still and/or once committed to the IT IS WRITTEN standard.
I felt good as I lay on our king-size tube water bed. I still need to handle the speeding ticket my son got last week. The big leak in our plumbing system needs fixing, so much so that we have to redo the ceramic tile shower in our bathroom. Then there is the mess in my house that I want to get to that has piled up since I left The Way and later had hip surgery and then after selling Mom's estate.
I never did get thank you notes written from the time of her funeral in February, 2009.
Middle-age suits me for now. Seldom do the circumstances of life take on an earth-shattering urgency, an all-importance. I think it was Picasso who stated that it takes a long time to become young.
Apparently John Knapp got a make-over. I saw a recent photo of him. It looks like he lost weight, died his hair, and got rid of his glasses. He literally looks like a different person. The photo caused me to wonder if he is having an affair with a male lover.
***********************
journal entry ~ february 27, 2011
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
12:20 AM
february 27, 2011
Stayed in all day. Ruminating again. Some on John Knapp. Some on the mental health discussion at Jill Spire's blog. Some about my entry on my Way Corp Site blog.
I have to stay calm. I'm simply sharing my opinion and experience. And I am doing so as honestly as I know how. Sure, I want to say I am trembling inside...but I'm not going to say that because then I am exposing too much of my vulnerability to people I don't know. As I write that sentence I think of John Knapp.
I grieve the loss of the relationship I had with John. I let him know I missed the therapeutic relationship. I let him know that on July 27..I think it was. Less than a week later, he cut off contact with me...but first verbally assaulting me.
I want to curl up in a fetal position. I want to berate myself for being a bad client by allowing the dual relationships. In the back of my mind I'm thinking of how stupid I am.
I grieve the loss of John Knapp being in my life. It's like a permanent death, but one that is still alive. It's like a divorce. I didn't have romantic feelings toward John, but I loved him as my therapist, as a person, and I tried to love him as a friend. I failed in the friendship part.
So many times I've thought to reach out and contact him. But I always go back to when he cut me off. He wanted no contact with me. Then he called me and I called back. But I never heard from him, even after I let him know on that call-back that I hadn't called him. Did he not perceive at all the effect his actions had on me? I'm not the one that ceased communication; John was. I have to remember that and honor his request.
I don't know about all the science skeptic mumbo. I'm kind of like that girl that posted on Oprah's blog, the girl that posted in response to Leslie. I'm just not a true believer in empirical studies.
What is an empirical study, anyway? Well I just looked it up...here is a good over veiw.
The Wikipedia article states that empirical evidence is different from an empirical research.
I also notice that empirical data includes observation. Well of course it would. If we don't observe the process and outcomes, what's the point of the study? Duh. So my experiences do count for something in the research of my self and what works for me.
I don't know how reliable hard science is when it comes to empirical evidence on people. I mean, there is always(?) a small percentage that will not respond as the majority. That cannot be ignored.
I still like Audubon's quote: When the bird and the book disagree, believe the bird.
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
12:20 AM
february 27, 2011
Stayed in all day. Ruminating again. Some on John Knapp. Some on the mental health discussion at Jill Spire's blog. Some about my entry on my Way Corp Site blog.
I have to stay calm. I'm simply sharing my opinion and experience. And I am doing so as honestly as I know how. Sure, I want to say I am trembling inside...but I'm not going to say that because then I am exposing too much of my vulnerability to people I don't know. As I write that sentence I think of John Knapp.
I grieve the loss of the relationship I had with John. I let him know I missed the therapeutic relationship. I let him know that on July 27..I think it was. Less than a week later, he cut off contact with me...but first verbally assaulting me.
I want to curl up in a fetal position. I want to berate myself for being a bad client by allowing the dual relationships. In the back of my mind I'm thinking of how stupid I am.
I grieve the loss of John Knapp being in my life. It's like a permanent death, but one that is still alive. It's like a divorce. I didn't have romantic feelings toward John, but I loved him as my therapist, as a person, and I tried to love him as a friend. I failed in the friendship part.
So many times I've thought to reach out and contact him. But I always go back to when he cut me off. He wanted no contact with me. Then he called me and I called back. But I never heard from him, even after I let him know on that call-back that I hadn't called him. Did he not perceive at all the effect his actions had on me? I'm not the one that ceased communication; John was. I have to remember that and honor his request.
I don't know about all the science skeptic mumbo. I'm kind of like that girl that posted on Oprah's blog, the girl that posted in response to Leslie. I'm just not a true believer in empirical studies.
What is an empirical study, anyway? Well I just looked it up...here is a good over veiw.
The Wikipedia article states that empirical evidence is different from an empirical research.
I also notice that empirical data includes observation. Well of course it would. If we don't observe the process and outcomes, what's the point of the study? Duh. So my experiences do count for something in the research of my self and what works for me.
I don't know how reliable hard science is when it comes to empirical evidence on people. I mean, there is always(?) a small percentage that will not respond as the majority. That cannot be ignored.
I still like Audubon's quote: When the bird and the book disagree, believe the bird.
***********************
journal entry ~ february 18, 2011
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
12:12 AM
february 18, 2011
People. We are oddities.
Yesterday, or maybe it was today, I posted a comment on Jill Spire's blog, raising questions about mental illness labels and cultural mental illness diagnoses and trends.
Jill took my comment and used it as a blog post. I wasn't offended, but thought that someone else might be if that had happened to them, because they only wanted their post as a comment not as an entry. It doesn't matter one way or the other to me.
Well, she posted the entry and then she responded. I responded back and answered a question she had posed to me. And then she responded back. I get the responses on my email.
So I go back over to her blog to leave another comment in response to her comment, and the entry was gone. Poof. Also, the place where I'd initially left my comment was also gone.
I've written Jill via Twitter and via her blog to try to contact her personally in order to change my Gravatar profile thingee...but she's not contacted me. It's been a week since I first tried to contact her about that.
Anyhoo, I can't help but wonder if Knapp has "warned" Jill about me, saying that I'm deceitful or something or that I'm trying to get back at John.
It's just weird.
So whatever. *rolleyes*
And maybe it's nothing. But still, it makes me wonder.
Of course, Jill lives in Colorado so may know that other anti-cult psychiatrist who got spooked by me.
If any of the above is factual, then Jill falls into the same paranoiac and over self-importance as Knapp and the Colorado shrink.
Well..so be it. Ain't nothing I can do about it.
Still no hot water at our house. Hoping the unit arrives tomorrow.
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
12:12 AM
february 18, 2011
People. We are oddities.
Yesterday, or maybe it was today, I posted a comment on Jill Spire's blog, raising questions about mental illness labels and cultural mental illness diagnoses and trends.
Jill took my comment and used it as a blog post. I wasn't offended, but thought that someone else might be if that had happened to them, because they only wanted their post as a comment not as an entry. It doesn't matter one way or the other to me.
Well, she posted the entry and then she responded. I responded back and answered a question she had posed to me. And then she responded back. I get the responses on my email.
So I go back over to her blog to leave another comment in response to her comment, and the entry was gone. Poof. Also, the place where I'd initially left my comment was also gone.
I've written Jill via Twitter and via her blog to try to contact her personally in order to change my Gravatar profile thingee...but she's not contacted me. It's been a week since I first tried to contact her about that.
Anyhoo, I can't help but wonder if Knapp has "warned" Jill about me, saying that I'm deceitful or something or that I'm trying to get back at John.
It's just weird.
So whatever. *rolleyes*
And maybe it's nothing. But still, it makes me wonder.
Of course, Jill lives in Colorado so may know that other anti-cult psychiatrist who got spooked by me.
If any of the above is factual, then Jill falls into the same paranoiac and over self-importance as Knapp and the Colorado shrink.
Well..so be it. Ain't nothing I can do about it.
Still no hot water at our house. Hoping the unit arrives tomorrow.
***********************
journal entry ~ february 17, 2011
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
february 17, 2011
It's 12:54 AM on 2/17/11.
Today at work, I found another email exchange between Knapp and I from back in June, 2010. I had forgotten about it. I had forgotten that John had shared with me that he'd been hospitalized in 2001 for [certain symptom].
I hurt when I read the exchange. I feel I betrayed John by sharing with some about his mental health challenges. Who have I shared it with?
First, there was Dr. McColloch.
Second, was Karen Spade.
Third, was Mia.
After that, I'm not sure of the order. Maybe Louise was next, sometime in September when she had already mentioned at least 3 different times about her concern that John had [certain symptoms] and that she sometimes worried that he might [act]. I told her then, after she brought it up multiple times.
After Louise, I think I shared it with Lema. And then with Joe.
Somewhere through that I shared it with Leah, my son, hubby,...and lastly Sam.
Oh...and the state of NY...I shared with them. I've also read aloud some memoirs in the workshop.
None of those folks are jabber mouths. That said, folks talk. That's what people do.
I feel bad that I told people. I would never have shared the information had things not ended like they did between John and I.
I do wonder if the Center for Healing Spiritual and Cutlic Abuse is going to open. I feel bad for John as far as another failure. It hurts.
Then again....the CHSCA might open with flying colors any day now.
I've wondered if Knapp's online discussion board is back up because John is working on it for the CHSCA...transferring the name or something. But couldn't he do that without going online? I feel certain he can.
I've wondered if he reupped it as bait for me. I roll my eyes with that thought. I'm not that important. Part of me thinks that John doesn't have time for those type games. OTOH, I don't know. I noticed he took time to make an avatar with donkeydoodoolsd written on the color of monkeyvoodoo's old avatar.
I sent the email exchange I found to Diane, the NY investigator. I'm simply reporting everything now. I don't care anymore about being discreet about the stuff. It's not that I'm trying to "burn" John, though I have wanted to at times. I do want to be open. Plus, the exchanges reveal stuff about me too. I'm sending contexts.
I sure feel much more free by sending the stuff to the investigator.
John is a therapist. He can't go around doing what he has done to people. I want him to be free in who he is; but with freedom comes responsibility. And with his degree comes responsibility.
I'm a forgiving person. And I will forgive John, even if he never approaches me again. Yet he needs to be accountable.
I'll not write about him in a nasty way.
He needs compassion, not judgement.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
I just looked at the Knapp online discussion board again.
I wonder if John put it up to draw Lema and I back? I wonder if everything else fell through, so he thought maybe we would still want to work with him? Is it a type of passive aggressive type thing, maybe?
That's pretty far fetched Carol.
Yeah, pretty far fetched.
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
february 17, 2011
It's 12:54 AM on 2/17/11.
Today at work, I found another email exchange between Knapp and I from back in June, 2010. I had forgotten about it. I had forgotten that John had shared with me that he'd been hospitalized in 2001 for [certain symptom].
I hurt when I read the exchange. I feel I betrayed John by sharing with some about his mental health challenges. Who have I shared it with?
First, there was Dr. McColloch.
Second, was Karen Spade.
Third, was Mia.
After that, I'm not sure of the order. Maybe Louise was next, sometime in September when she had already mentioned at least 3 different times about her concern that John had [certain symptoms] and that she sometimes worried that he might [act]. I told her then, after she brought it up multiple times.
After Louise, I think I shared it with Lema. And then with Joe.
Somewhere through that I shared it with Leah, my son, hubby,...and lastly Sam.
Oh...and the state of NY...I shared with them. I've also read aloud some memoirs in the workshop.
None of those folks are jabber mouths. That said, folks talk. That's what people do.
I feel bad that I told people. I would never have shared the information had things not ended like they did between John and I.
I do wonder if the Center for Healing Spiritual and Cutlic Abuse is going to open. I feel bad for John as far as another failure. It hurts.
Then again....the CHSCA might open with flying colors any day now.
I've wondered if Knapp's online discussion board is back up because John is working on it for the CHSCA...transferring the name or something. But couldn't he do that without going online? I feel certain he can.
I've wondered if he reupped it as bait for me. I roll my eyes with that thought. I'm not that important. Part of me thinks that John doesn't have time for those type games. OTOH, I don't know. I noticed he took time to make an avatar with donkeydoodoolsd written on the color of monkeyvoodoo's old avatar.
I sent the email exchange I found to Diane, the NY investigator. I'm simply reporting everything now. I don't care anymore about being discreet about the stuff. It's not that I'm trying to "burn" John, though I have wanted to at times. I do want to be open. Plus, the exchanges reveal stuff about me too. I'm sending contexts.
I sure feel much more free by sending the stuff to the investigator.
John is a therapist. He can't go around doing what he has done to people. I want him to be free in who he is; but with freedom comes responsibility. And with his degree comes responsibility.
I'm a forgiving person. And I will forgive John, even if he never approaches me again. Yet he needs to be accountable.
I'll not write about him in a nasty way.
He needs compassion, not judgement.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
I just looked at the Knapp online discussion board again.
I wonder if John put it up to draw Lema and I back? I wonder if everything else fell through, so he thought maybe we would still want to work with him? Is it a type of passive aggressive type thing, maybe?
That's pretty far fetched Carol.
Yeah, pretty far fetched.
***********************
journal entry ~ february 16, 2011
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
february 16, 2011
12:11 AM
I feel sad this evening. I'm not sure why. Could be that I'm just tired.
I feel grief.
I miss the grand purpose of The Way. I miss the purpose of the Knapp project. I want to know I matter.
I do matter. I matter to Jethro and Yerba and my family and Lewis and Leah.
Isn't that enough?
I matter to Robin and Fred and Marta. I matter to Lema.
I matter to Chris.
I matter to Joe.
I matter to Karen.
Yet, I feel I don't matter that much. And that's o.k.
I don't matter to Greasespotters. I don't matter to Jeff. I don't matter to John Knapp...or at least I matter very little to Knapp.
And that hurts, to know that I matter little to Knapp.
Why did he do what he did to me? I just get so baffled when I think about it. I don't understand it - how someone who I thought was so concerned with healing be so....focused inwardly; so fixated on his own need that he is blind to the effect his retaliation has on others. And then, why I couldn't see it.
Knapp's discussion board is still up. I don't know why. I'm still listed as administrator and moderator, though I resigned. I wish he'd at least take me off of being an admin and mod.
I could sign in and do so, but I don't want to sign in.
Hm, I wonder if I am showing up now on search engines as being on Knapp's board.
Why John? Why? Why.....
Do you know how bad it has felt? The anxiety and agony of wrestling with the decision of whether or not to report you...and then what to share.
As I compiled everything for the complaint, I was stunned at my own stupidity and lack of maturity in seeing what was happening. I'm embarrassed.
And then I feel bad for you, John. I hurt for you. I hurt if you don't succeed with the non-profit. Yet, I don't want the non-profit to be successful.
It's confusing to me...these mixed emotions.
For the pain I caused, I'm sorry. Reporting you was one of the hardest things I've ever done.
I don't hate you. I wonder if you think that now? Like when you told me that Mia "hates you."
I grieve the loss of our relationship. I want to hear from you and I'm also afraid of you.
I feel I've lost my ability to write, my passion for writing.
And then I write, like this now...and I feel I haven't lost it. I can never lose that aspect.
Words...what a magical ride.
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
february 16, 2011
12:11 AM
I feel sad this evening. I'm not sure why. Could be that I'm just tired.
I feel grief.
I miss the grand purpose of The Way. I miss the purpose of the Knapp project. I want to know I matter.
I do matter. I matter to Jethro and Yerba and my family and Lewis and Leah.
Isn't that enough?
I matter to Robin and Fred and Marta. I matter to Lema.
I matter to Chris.
I matter to Joe.
I matter to Karen.
Yet, I feel I don't matter that much. And that's o.k.
I don't matter to Greasespotters. I don't matter to Jeff. I don't matter to John Knapp...or at least I matter very little to Knapp.
And that hurts, to know that I matter little to Knapp.
Why did he do what he did to me? I just get so baffled when I think about it. I don't understand it - how someone who I thought was so concerned with healing be so....focused inwardly; so fixated on his own need that he is blind to the effect his retaliation has on others. And then, why I couldn't see it.
Knapp's discussion board is still up. I don't know why. I'm still listed as administrator and moderator, though I resigned. I wish he'd at least take me off of being an admin and mod.
I could sign in and do so, but I don't want to sign in.
Hm, I wonder if I am showing up now on search engines as being on Knapp's board.
Why John? Why? Why.....
Do you know how bad it has felt? The anxiety and agony of wrestling with the decision of whether or not to report you...and then what to share.
As I compiled everything for the complaint, I was stunned at my own stupidity and lack of maturity in seeing what was happening. I'm embarrassed.
And then I feel bad for you, John. I hurt for you. I hurt if you don't succeed with the non-profit. Yet, I don't want the non-profit to be successful.
It's confusing to me...these mixed emotions.
For the pain I caused, I'm sorry. Reporting you was one of the hardest things I've ever done.
I don't hate you. I wonder if you think that now? Like when you told me that Mia "hates you."
I grieve the loss of our relationship. I want to hear from you and I'm also afraid of you.
I feel I've lost my ability to write, my passion for writing.
And then I write, like this now...and I feel I haven't lost it. I can never lose that aspect.
Words...what a magical ride.
***********************
journal entry ~ february 12, 2011
_______________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
february 12, 2011
1:45 AM
I've hardly done any personal writing.
I've written on the new ex-Way forum, Ex-Way Vision. But I don't feel too welcome there. I don't feel I fit.
I posted a blog entry on the Way Corps site. I don't feel I fit there either.
I've been putting together emails and notes for Karen Spade. About what happened with me and John Knapp. I wasn't sure at first why I wanted to send her the records. "Records" being certain emails and certain parts of the complaint I filed with NY State.
I later recognized the reason, or at least what I think is the reason. That is, so that someone reputable has the information. If someone talks about me, about what happened between John and I, Karen will know the rest of the story. If it is appropriate, I feel she will speak up on my behalf.
Today, I posted on Jill Spire's website.
O.K. ... let me back up.
Lema and I were chatting the other day. He said that he had let Leslie know via email that the investigators were looking into my case, taking it seriously. Leslie was glad to hear it and wondered with whom I had filed my case. So I let Lema know and then offered the complaint as a sample. I took out exact dates and John's name, making the complaint anonymous. Leslie will keep the details of the case confidential for now. I may at some point allow her to make them public. Leslie let Lema know about someone writing a book on exposing bad therapy, and that if I'd like to, I could share my story anonymously. Lema shared all that on Wednesday I think...or maybe it was Thursday.
Anyway, today, I went to John Knapp's FB page and noticed Jill's name, as she has commented before on John's page. I recall she was outspoken regarding therapy abuse. So I googled her and spent a couple hours on her site reading. I decided to leave a comment on a couple of her posts. In one of my comments I shared, commenting anonymously, about when John Knapp (without stating his name) disclosed to me he had [certain mental illness] with [symptoms]. I also shared about John and my various relationships.
Jill was complimentary of me speaking out and of filing a complaint.
I commented elsewhere on her blog and used my name there. But on the comment about John, I was anonymous.
Later in the day I went back to her site, after she commented back to my comment. I clicked on one of the recent comments to a differnt blog entry...and discovered that Leslie, who Lema had brought up earlier, had posted on that entry. Also someone else with the screen name "TAV" had posted and now I wonder if it is the person writing the book that Lema mentioned?
The way I find things on the web...the connections, etc. Someone might think I make it up...the serendipitous way connections happen. But they seem to fall into my lap. Why that is, I am not sure. Perhaps it is simply statistics. I have spent a lot of time now on the web researching John Knapp...and I guess I run across Knapp circles.
What else?
I feel I cannot speak freely about what happened with John. I still feel that I am wrong on some level. That I somehow brought John's wrath upon me by my actions; that I am responsible. That what John stated is true, that someone else reading what he wrote would think it wasn't that bad.
And that may be. But they also need to know the background. My 2 years of therapy with John. Our various relationships. John's revealing to me about his [mental health diagnoses]. The run-in John and I had on the Church Abuse forum. John's erratic presence on the Knapp Family Forum. Our Skype talk about The Knapp Center and how John seemed driven to me...on a mission...to get the word to the next generation. About John's past, which I didn't have knowledge of until after he cut me off - the stuff with Margaret Singer and [certain organization] and people there. About John's relationship with Mia. About just a week before John verbally abused me...how I shared with him my problem with being a moderator and administrator on his forum. My fear of abandonment. My fear of authority.
It was a nightmare. And what makes it worse are the circles John runs in. Who would believe me? Would Jill even believe me?
In the past, John stated to me that he thought Leslie was borderline. I've never told anyone that John said that to me. Maybe someday I'll tell Lema. John's words were, "I wouldn't be surprised if Leslie has something like Borderline Personality Disorder." John called Lema borderline too, after the July conflict.
Dr. McColloch knows the complexity.
Oh, I forgot to mention the stuff with Sam.
John's [diagnosis]...should he be practicing with that kind of dysfunction?
I don't know. I don't know.
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
journal entry
february 12, 2011
1:45 AM
I've hardly done any personal writing.
I've written on the new ex-Way forum, Ex-Way Vision. But I don't feel too welcome there. I don't feel I fit.
I posted a blog entry on the Way Corps site. I don't feel I fit there either.
I've been putting together emails and notes for Karen Spade. About what happened with me and John Knapp. I wasn't sure at first why I wanted to send her the records. "Records" being certain emails and certain parts of the complaint I filed with NY State.
I later recognized the reason, or at least what I think is the reason. That is, so that someone reputable has the information. If someone talks about me, about what happened between John and I, Karen will know the rest of the story. If it is appropriate, I feel she will speak up on my behalf.
Today, I posted on Jill Spire's website.
O.K. ... let me back up.
Lema and I were chatting the other day. He said that he had let Leslie know via email that the investigators were looking into my case, taking it seriously. Leslie was glad to hear it and wondered with whom I had filed my case. So I let Lema know and then offered the complaint as a sample. I took out exact dates and John's name, making the complaint anonymous. Leslie will keep the details of the case confidential for now. I may at some point allow her to make them public. Leslie let Lema know about someone writing a book on exposing bad therapy, and that if I'd like to, I could share my story anonymously. Lema shared all that on Wednesday I think...or maybe it was Thursday.
Anyway, today, I went to John Knapp's FB page and noticed Jill's name, as she has commented before on John's page. I recall she was outspoken regarding therapy abuse. So I googled her and spent a couple hours on her site reading. I decided to leave a comment on a couple of her posts. In one of my comments I shared, commenting anonymously, about when John Knapp (without stating his name) disclosed to me he had [certain mental illness] with [symptoms]. I also shared about John and my various relationships.
Jill was complimentary of me speaking out and of filing a complaint.
I commented elsewhere on her blog and used my name there. But on the comment about John, I was anonymous.
Later in the day I went back to her site, after she commented back to my comment. I clicked on one of the recent comments to a differnt blog entry...and discovered that Leslie, who Lema had brought up earlier, had posted on that entry. Also someone else with the screen name "TAV" had posted and now I wonder if it is the person writing the book that Lema mentioned?
The way I find things on the web...the connections, etc. Someone might think I make it up...the serendipitous way connections happen. But they seem to fall into my lap. Why that is, I am not sure. Perhaps it is simply statistics. I have spent a lot of time now on the web researching John Knapp...and I guess I run across Knapp circles.
What else?
I feel I cannot speak freely about what happened with John. I still feel that I am wrong on some level. That I somehow brought John's wrath upon me by my actions; that I am responsible. That what John stated is true, that someone else reading what he wrote would think it wasn't that bad.
And that may be. But they also need to know the background. My 2 years of therapy with John. Our various relationships. John's revealing to me about his [mental health diagnoses]. The run-in John and I had on the Church Abuse forum. John's erratic presence on the Knapp Family Forum. Our Skype talk about The Knapp Center and how John seemed driven to me...on a mission...to get the word to the next generation. About John's past, which I didn't have knowledge of until after he cut me off - the stuff with Margaret Singer and [certain organization] and people there. About John's relationship with Mia. About just a week before John verbally abused me...how I shared with him my problem with being a moderator and administrator on his forum. My fear of abandonment. My fear of authority.
It was a nightmare. And what makes it worse are the circles John runs in. Who would believe me? Would Jill even believe me?
In the past, John stated to me that he thought Leslie was borderline. I've never told anyone that John said that to me. Maybe someday I'll tell Lema. John's words were, "I wouldn't be surprised if Leslie has something like Borderline Personality Disorder." John called Lema borderline too, after the July conflict.
Dr. McColloch knows the complexity.
Oh, I forgot to mention the stuff with Sam.
John's [diagnosis]...should he be practicing with that kind of dysfunction?
I don't know. I don't know.
***********************
journal entry ~ january 17, 2011
__________________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
denial
1:07 AM, Monday, january 17, 2011
Yah...
So, I was going to be asleep by 11:00 so I could arise by 9:00 AM. Alas...here I sit, unable to sleep.
I'm tempted to take a Xanax, but I won't. I will still get up at 9:00 AM. I must. I cannot continue my path of inactivity AND I MUST pay some bills.
The house represents an overwhelming task for me. But, I can get it done. That said, I need to be consistent.
My plan is that each Tuesday, I will spend on organizing the house. Each Friday morning, I pay bills. Monday and Tuesday and Friday, I will do laundry.
At some point I need to start cleaning. Perhaps I can do that on Saturdays...or some Tuesdays.
Wednesday is my art day. The morning I will spend daydreaming, notetaking, planning, color scheming about my home. Afternoons I will write.
I still think about Knapp. Why did he have to do what he did? It has really messed me up.
Carol recall what you read today on Wiki about denial.
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
denial
1:07 AM, Monday, january 17, 2011
Yah...
So, I was going to be asleep by 11:00 so I could arise by 9:00 AM. Alas...here I sit, unable to sleep.
I'm tempted to take a Xanax, but I won't. I will still get up at 9:00 AM. I must. I cannot continue my path of inactivity AND I MUST pay some bills.
The house represents an overwhelming task for me. But, I can get it done. That said, I need to be consistent.
My plan is that each Tuesday, I will spend on organizing the house. Each Friday morning, I pay bills. Monday and Tuesday and Friday, I will do laundry.
At some point I need to start cleaning. Perhaps I can do that on Saturdays...or some Tuesdays.
Wednesday is my art day. The morning I will spend daydreaming, notetaking, planning, color scheming about my home. Afternoons I will write.
I still think about Knapp. Why did he have to do what he did? It has really messed me up.
Carol recall what you read today on Wiki about denial.
***********************
July 20, 2011
Blood Soil
non-subject: history
aww ~ 7/20/11
July afternoon, 2011. My 23-year old daughter and I walked along Davie Street in Greensboro in the 100-degree weather.
We had just finished a delighful meal at the Europa Cafe. Grilled shrimp in lime and garlic sauce. French bread with butter. Greek salad. American salad. Greek spanakopita. Ice cold water with lemon wedges. We opted to eat inside, in the air conditioning.
"Dawg days of summer," I stated as we made our way back to the 1999 gray Ford Explorer, meter-parked in an open public lot, the sun beating through tinted windows upon the faux leather interior. "Yeah," she replied.
I eyed a historical marker to our right, placed in the soil in front of a large brick building that I think must be part of the Greensboro Historical Museum. The marker is one of those signs with raised engraved words from a silver-gray, thick, metal, rectangular plate; engraved raised edges around the border of the plate, the edges producing a framing effect; the heavy metal erected on a 6-foot pole. These type signs are sprinkled all across American landscapes, at least in cities.
How often does anyone notice them? How often do we pause to think, "Upon this ground where I place my feet, blood was spilt."
It is something I think about regularly, regularly being at least once a month. I don't need a historical land marker to remind me. Nor do I have to be in an urban city.
The ground simply speaks.
My time on any given day, on even given ground, is borrowed. Borrowed from my ancestors. Borrowed from those who have gone before. Borrowed from those who have not yet been.
"Borrowed" probably isn't the correct or accurate word. "Gifted" may be better.
My eyes read the words on the historical marker. "Set up in the First Presbyterian Church to receive wounded from battle of Bentonville, 1865, was here."
I read it through a few times.
I almost take a photograph with my iPhone camera. I've never been a photo buff, but I am really enjoying this iPhone camera. I opt for no photo because I don't feel like pulling it out of my hip pack, then out of its case, then turning it on, then snapping the shot. It feels like too much work on the 100-degree stroll.
I wonder what the Battle of Bentonville was? War. Battle. Blood. Quakers. Pacifists. Where would I have sided in such a time as that? Where would I side now?
We, being my husband and two children, lived in Greensboro for a little over a year in 1998 and 1999. We lived on Lawndale Avenue, not far from Guilford Courthouse National Military Park, where in 1781 masses of bloodied and dead bodies would have been strewn all across the acreage. A 2-1/2 hour battle left over 500 men...lifeless. Their bodily fluids feeding the soil. I can only imagine, and hardly that, the stench and the clean-up. The deadness of it all.
Flat. Coping. Carnage.
Quakers tended the wounded on both sides...the British and the American.
I learned that the ground on which our quaint apartment condo abided on Lawndale Avenue, only some few miles from the historic battleground, was one of the escape routes for the troops in The Battle of Guilford Courthouse.
In 1999, I sat with my two children at our kitchen table listening to a book on tape about a boy, maybe 13 years of age, who fought in the Revolutionary War. I wish I could recall the name of the historical fiction and the author. It seems the author's name begins with "O" and it is just one word and an unusual name. The author was the narrator on the tape.
I became enraptured with the story, there in that time and space as a young boy making a decision to go to war.
"Decision to war." What an odd thought.
Through the kitchen window I gazed across the grassy yard with the creek beyond, knowing that beneath my feet was blood soil. It is sacred ground, fed with people's very lives.
It isn't just that ground, but everywhere.
Everywhere.
Blood has fed the soil.
__________________________________
I googled to find the author and the book: Avi wrote The Fighting Ground.
__________________________________
aww ~ 7/20/11
July afternoon, 2011. My 23-year old daughter and I walked along Davie Street in Greensboro in the 100-degree weather.
We had just finished a delighful meal at the Europa Cafe. Grilled shrimp in lime and garlic sauce. French bread with butter. Greek salad. American salad. Greek spanakopita. Ice cold water with lemon wedges. We opted to eat inside, in the air conditioning.
"Dawg days of summer," I stated as we made our way back to the 1999 gray Ford Explorer, meter-parked in an open public lot, the sun beating through tinted windows upon the faux leather interior. "Yeah," she replied.
I eyed a historical marker to our right, placed in the soil in front of a large brick building that I think must be part of the Greensboro Historical Museum. The marker is one of those signs with raised engraved words from a silver-gray, thick, metal, rectangular plate; engraved raised edges around the border of the plate, the edges producing a framing effect; the heavy metal erected on a 6-foot pole. These type signs are sprinkled all across American landscapes, at least in cities.
How often does anyone notice them? How often do we pause to think, "Upon this ground where I place my feet, blood was spilt."
It is something I think about regularly, regularly being at least once a month. I don't need a historical land marker to remind me. Nor do I have to be in an urban city.
The ground simply speaks.
My time on any given day, on even given ground, is borrowed. Borrowed from my ancestors. Borrowed from those who have gone before. Borrowed from those who have not yet been.
"Borrowed" probably isn't the correct or accurate word. "Gifted" may be better.
My eyes read the words on the historical marker. "Set up in the First Presbyterian Church to receive wounded from battle of Bentonville, 1865, was here."
I read it through a few times.
I almost take a photograph with my iPhone camera. I've never been a photo buff, but I am really enjoying this iPhone camera. I opt for no photo because I don't feel like pulling it out of my hip pack, then out of its case, then turning it on, then snapping the shot. It feels like too much work on the 100-degree stroll.
I wonder what the Battle of Bentonville was? War. Battle. Blood. Quakers. Pacifists. Where would I have sided in such a time as that? Where would I side now?
We, being my husband and two children, lived in Greensboro for a little over a year in 1998 and 1999. We lived on Lawndale Avenue, not far from Guilford Courthouse National Military Park, where in 1781 masses of bloodied and dead bodies would have been strewn all across the acreage. A 2-1/2 hour battle left over 500 men...lifeless. Their bodily fluids feeding the soil. I can only imagine, and hardly that, the stench and the clean-up. The deadness of it all.
Flat. Coping. Carnage.
Quakers tended the wounded on both sides...the British and the American.
I learned that the ground on which our quaint apartment condo abided on Lawndale Avenue, only some few miles from the historic battleground, was one of the escape routes for the troops in The Battle of Guilford Courthouse.
In 1999, I sat with my two children at our kitchen table listening to a book on tape about a boy, maybe 13 years of age, who fought in the Revolutionary War. I wish I could recall the name of the historical fiction and the author. It seems the author's name begins with "O" and it is just one word and an unusual name. The author was the narrator on the tape.
I became enraptured with the story, there in that time and space as a young boy making a decision to go to war.
"Decision to war." What an odd thought.
Through the kitchen window I gazed across the grassy yard with the creek beyond, knowing that beneath my feet was blood soil. It is sacred ground, fed with people's very lives.
It isn't just that ground, but everywhere.
Everywhere.
Blood has fed the soil.
__________________________________
I googled to find the author and the book: Avi wrote The Fighting Ground.
__________________________________
Final Non-pronouncements
__________________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
non-subject: getting past the generalized statement to what is really true
AWW ~ 1/12/2011
I sat across from Dr. McColloch, each of us sitting in separate matching, upholstered, wine-colored, wing back chairs. His office isn't plush; it's normal. A round cherry wood end table sits to my right. On it sits a lamp and box of tissue. My cell phone and reading glasses join them.
Outside his private office is a waiting room furnished with a striped upholstered love seat, a coffee table, three end tables, and two upholstered chairs. Magazines are stacked on the coffee table and one of the end tables. National Geographic. Travel & Leisure. Architectural Design. Plus some news and sports magazines. I don't recall ever seeing any celebrity or entertainment slicks.
I'd made this appointment earlier in the day when Dr. McColloch had returned my call after I'd left him a voice mail the day before. In tears I'd stated I needed an appointment this week if he had an opening. I'd had some recent triggering incidents in regard to my ex-counselor, John Knapp, on whom I'd filed a formal complaint three months prior. With the recent self-induced aggravation regarding John, I'd gone from self-doubt, to hives, to vindictiveness, to hatred, to wanting to write publicly about John's dirty laundry, to wanting to let the state investigator know what a dick-head John was so I could get her on my side and she'd want to burn John as badly as I wanted it.
I vented in the privacy of Dr. McColloch's office expressing how I hated John, how he was a jerkwad and hypocrite. Though deep down I don't hate him.
As Dr. McColloch and I had done before, we looked at possible outcomes to the complaint I'd filed. For all I know it might be thrown out. Dr. McColloch would be stunned if that were the case. John Knapp at least needs a slap on the hand.
After 45 minutes into the appointment, I was calmer. Then Dr. McColloch asked, "How do you think John's doing right now...in his life?"
"Hell if I know," I responded. "How am I supposed to know how he's doing?"
Dr. McColloch paused and looked at me. "Actually Carol, you know quite a bit about John."
He's right. I do. But I didn't feel like I knew much about John.
I know about John from my digging up information on the internet -and I had dug, even back to 1995- but I also know from John himself, things he'd personally shared with me in the past couple years. About his physical and mental health, his fears, his mental health diagnoses, his marriage, his relationship troubles with colleagues, his finances. Plus there's the stuff others have shared with me. Then there's the non-profit that he's starting and the money he's currently raising for the defense fund for the Beyond of Art of Living blog because the group it writes about is subpoening Google to reveal the identity of the blog authors, or something like that. Not to mention my complaint still pending.
"What if he doesn't care about the complaint I filed? I don't know if he really cares or has any anxiety over it."
"If he is having no anxiety over a formal complaint being filed against him, that isn't normal. Every professional has anxiety over formal complaints." Dr. McColloch shared some real life examples he knows about. Dr. McColloch has been doing this for over 30 years. He's practiced in New York, Chicago, California, and now here in the Bible belt. He's been around.
Then he added, "And if John doesn't have any anxiety, if he has no feelings or regret or concern as to how his behavior affects others, then there is a bigger problem. Then...we'd have a sociopath."
I'd thought about that with Knapp, even read up on sociopaths after my relationship with him came crashing to an abrupt stop. And again, after Sam contacted me in November and said he felt like John had put a gun to Sam's head and pulled the trigger, that Sam was stunned by the abrupt change in John and how John had twisted the situation with Sam.
With Dr. McColloch's question and my response to him, I recalled when Fred Poole had suggested I go into the characters in my memoir; describe them.
I realize that scares me. I feel I'm judging. And, in a sense I am. Yet, it is my perception of the people at the time. That can change.
Plus I'm not God. I have no final pronouncements.
I read again today about sociopaths.
**********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
non-subject: getting past the generalized statement to what is really true
AWW ~ 1/12/2011
I sat across from Dr. McColloch, each of us sitting in separate matching, upholstered, wine-colored, wing back chairs. His office isn't plush; it's normal. A round cherry wood end table sits to my right. On it sits a lamp and box of tissue. My cell phone and reading glasses join them.
Outside his private office is a waiting room furnished with a striped upholstered love seat, a coffee table, three end tables, and two upholstered chairs. Magazines are stacked on the coffee table and one of the end tables. National Geographic. Travel & Leisure. Architectural Design. Plus some news and sports magazines. I don't recall ever seeing any celebrity or entertainment slicks.
I'd made this appointment earlier in the day when Dr. McColloch had returned my call after I'd left him a voice mail the day before. In tears I'd stated I needed an appointment this week if he had an opening. I'd had some recent triggering incidents in regard to my ex-counselor, John Knapp, on whom I'd filed a formal complaint three months prior. With the recent self-induced aggravation regarding John, I'd gone from self-doubt, to hives, to vindictiveness, to hatred, to wanting to write publicly about John's dirty laundry, to wanting to let the state investigator know what a dick-head John was so I could get her on my side and she'd want to burn John as badly as I wanted it.
I vented in the privacy of Dr. McColloch's office expressing how I hated John, how he was a jerkwad and hypocrite. Though deep down I don't hate him.
As Dr. McColloch and I had done before, we looked at possible outcomes to the complaint I'd filed. For all I know it might be thrown out. Dr. McColloch would be stunned if that were the case. John Knapp at least needs a slap on the hand.
After 45 minutes into the appointment, I was calmer. Then Dr. McColloch asked, "How do you think John's doing right now...in his life?"
"Hell if I know," I responded. "How am I supposed to know how he's doing?"
Dr. McColloch paused and looked at me. "Actually Carol, you know quite a bit about John."
He's right. I do. But I didn't feel like I knew much about John.
I know about John from my digging up information on the internet -and I had dug, even back to 1995- but I also know from John himself, things he'd personally shared with me in the past couple years. About his physical and mental health, his fears, his mental health diagnoses, his marriage, his relationship troubles with colleagues, his finances. Plus there's the stuff others have shared with me. Then there's the non-profit that he's starting and the money he's currently raising for the defense fund for the Beyond of Art of Living blog because the group it writes about is subpoening Google to reveal the identity of the blog authors, or something like that. Not to mention my complaint still pending.
"What if he doesn't care about the complaint I filed? I don't know if he really cares or has any anxiety over it."
"If he is having no anxiety over a formal complaint being filed against him, that isn't normal. Every professional has anxiety over formal complaints." Dr. McColloch shared some real life examples he knows about. Dr. McColloch has been doing this for over 30 years. He's practiced in New York, Chicago, California, and now here in the Bible belt. He's been around.
Then he added, "And if John doesn't have any anxiety, if he has no feelings or regret or concern as to how his behavior affects others, then there is a bigger problem. Then...we'd have a sociopath."
I'd thought about that with Knapp, even read up on sociopaths after my relationship with him came crashing to an abrupt stop. And again, after Sam contacted me in November and said he felt like John had put a gun to Sam's head and pulled the trigger, that Sam was stunned by the abrupt change in John and how John had twisted the situation with Sam.
With Dr. McColloch's question and my response to him, I recalled when Fred Poole had suggested I go into the characters in my memoir; describe them.
I realize that scares me. I feel I'm judging. And, in a sense I am. Yet, it is my perception of the people at the time. That can change.
Plus I'm not God. I have no final pronouncements.
I read again today about sociopaths.
**********************
July 19, 2011
healing in the here and now
A few days ago I read the prose posted below.
It struck a deep chord within as to my continual questioning as to why.
Why I write,
why I blog.
Why. Wi. Y.
Thanks to Tony for sharing and allowing me to pay it forward.
Click here to read the prose on Tony's blog,
Poems of misery loss and discontent.
********************
healing in the here and now
by Tony Fiona
writing heals in
the here and now.
It is of highest importance to acknowledge, understand and
put the past into perspective.
If the anchor that is dragging us down
is not redressed then it will continue
to weigh on us in the present and the future.
Examining the past with a critical eye...
understanding the events and removing our
selves from that event.
Forgiving if you would perpetrators
knowing that we have moved on from that time.
knowing that we choose to grow stronger from those events
and then making the supreme effort to move
from this mooring
into our present
we give ourselves the strength
the control
and the purpose to continue...
we get our strength not from the regret, remorse,
and hatred from those events
but from the liberating fact that we are now choosing to exert
control
and move from the past into the present.
yeah ??
are you with me
bottom line we learn from confronting the past....
the writing is reminding you me everyone who truly writes from the heart of how strong the emotions are that we carry with us.
It is if you would
the first step towards healing.
********************
It struck a deep chord within as to my continual questioning as to why.
Why I write,
why I blog.
Why. Wi. Y.
Thanks to Tony for sharing and allowing me to pay it forward.
Click here to read the prose on Tony's blog,
Poems of misery loss and discontent.
********************
healing in the here and now
by Tony Fiona
writing heals in
the here and now.
It is of highest importance to acknowledge, understand and
put the past into perspective.
If the anchor that is dragging us down
is not redressed then it will continue
to weigh on us in the present and the future.
Examining the past with a critical eye...
understanding the events and removing our
selves from that event.
Forgiving if you would perpetrators
knowing that we have moved on from that time.
knowing that we choose to grow stronger from those events
and then making the supreme effort to move
from this mooring
into our present
we give ourselves the strength
the control
and the purpose to continue...
we get our strength not from the regret, remorse,
and hatred from those events
but from the liberating fact that we are now choosing to exert
control
and move from the past into the present.
yeah ??
are you with me
bottom line we learn from confronting the past....
the writing is reminding you me everyone who truly writes from the heart of how strong the emotions are that we carry with us.
It is if you would
the first step towards healing.
********************
Private Damns
I get nervous at times, a bit of a shake within, as I expose my soul.
Lately, I feel that a dam has burst inside my heart.
It's not fresh writing that I am making public. But rather journal entries, poetry, memoir, thoughts, streams of consciousness, snippets & bits from the past almost one year. Yes, most of it has to do with "the Knapp crap"...as I came to call it.
What has caused this bursting?
I am not sure, other than the cry of the human soul. There have been nudges that have come from a few people who have contacted me privately about their situations with Knapp. Those people will probably never come forward, and that's o.k.
Their situations were a bump in the road.
My situation was not a bump; it's been a suffocating valley strewn with hideous gasses. I'd come up for air, and just when I thought I'd moved above...another private contact hits my email, or Skype. Another reminder.
What is it that prompts the voice to state aloud?
What is it that causes a scream, or a song, or a burst of expression?
Why does there have to be some altruistic reason?
There doesn't.
I continue to bring forth these written-in-secret pieces. I'll do so until I decide not to. There are some pieces (and some parts of pieces) that will remain hidden, at least for now. There are some that are probably tucked in a couple handwritten notebooks and journals that I may not find until some later day.
Below are links to a few poems/briefs/prose which I wrote as I continued to process (and still continue to process) through an experience that for me has been emotionally, psychologically, and thus physically traumatic; ie: a client-therapist relationship that went awry, where "professional boundaries were crossed and then trampled," to quote someone who knows a bit about the situation. A situation in which the therapist, so very loud an 'advocate' regarding psychological, spiritual, verbal, and emotional abuse, turned about and wielded a blade exacting the same, with apparent disregard, slicing my very essence.
It almost silenced my voice.
Do I have compassion toward a soul that exacts harm? Yes, I do. People do things for reasons. And people also need to be accountable for their actions regardless of those reasons.
Do I have a goal in bringing these writings forward? Not to my conscious awareness, other than the dam is on over spill. What comes across the levees is simply here.
At this point, in my thoughts, what would be the best resolution to the situation? Open communication. But John Knapp cut off communication with me (as he has done with others) on August 2, 2010, and I didn't even understand why. I was totally confused, baffled, left with my heart nakedly pulsing in my hand, accused of things I had no idea that I had done.....because I had not done them. It was crazy-making.
There can be no restorative justice (however 'inconsequential' the harms) once communication is severed.
The voice is fed with breath. I never want to lose my breath again.
I've literally been there - to that place of no breath. It's pure-tee hell.
______________________________
Poetry/Prose/Brief links:
daggers - august 3, 2010
lost - august 3, 2010
accusatory blame - august 5, 2010
deja vu - august 10, 2010
embalm - september 12, 2010
voices - december 6, 2010
rabid - december 8, 2010
vapor pressure - december 16, 2010
fumes - may 3, 2011
_____________________________
************************
To access an ongoing index regarding my experiences with Knapp, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
************************
Lately, I feel that a dam has burst inside my heart.
It's not fresh writing that I am making public. But rather journal entries, poetry, memoir, thoughts, streams of consciousness, snippets & bits from the past almost one year. Yes, most of it has to do with "the Knapp crap"...as I came to call it.
What has caused this bursting?
I am not sure, other than the cry of the human soul. There have been nudges that have come from a few people who have contacted me privately about their situations with Knapp. Those people will probably never come forward, and that's o.k.
Their situations were a bump in the road.
My situation was not a bump; it's been a suffocating valley strewn with hideous gasses. I'd come up for air, and just when I thought I'd moved above...another private contact hits my email, or Skype. Another reminder.
What is it that prompts the voice to state aloud?
What is it that causes a scream, or a song, or a burst of expression?
Why does there have to be some altruistic reason?
There doesn't.
I continue to bring forth these written-in-secret pieces. I'll do so until I decide not to. There are some pieces (and some parts of pieces) that will remain hidden, at least for now. There are some that are probably tucked in a couple handwritten notebooks and journals that I may not find until some later day.
Below are links to a few poems/briefs/prose which I wrote as I continued to process (and still continue to process) through an experience that for me has been emotionally, psychologically, and thus physically traumatic; ie: a client-therapist relationship that went awry, where "professional boundaries were crossed and then trampled," to quote someone who knows a bit about the situation. A situation in which the therapist, so very loud an 'advocate' regarding psychological, spiritual, verbal, and emotional abuse, turned about and wielded a blade exacting the same, with apparent disregard, slicing my very essence.
It almost silenced my voice.
Do I have compassion toward a soul that exacts harm? Yes, I do. People do things for reasons. And people also need to be accountable for their actions regardless of those reasons.
Do I have a goal in bringing these writings forward? Not to my conscious awareness, other than the dam is on over spill. What comes across the levees is simply here.
At this point, in my thoughts, what would be the best resolution to the situation? Open communication. But John Knapp cut off communication with me (as he has done with others) on August 2, 2010, and I didn't even understand why. I was totally confused, baffled, left with my heart nakedly pulsing in my hand, accused of things I had no idea that I had done.....because I had not done them. It was crazy-making.
There can be no restorative justice (however 'inconsequential' the harms) once communication is severed.
The voice is fed with breath. I never want to lose my breath again.
I've literally been there - to that place of no breath. It's pure-tee hell.
______________________________
Poetry/Prose/Brief links:
daggers - august 3, 2010
lost - august 3, 2010
accusatory blame - august 5, 2010
deja vu - august 10, 2010
embalm - september 12, 2010
voices - december 6, 2010
rabid - december 8, 2010
vapor pressure - december 16, 2010
fumes - may 3, 2011
_____________________________
************************
To access an ongoing index regarding my experiences with Knapp, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
************************
journal entry ~ january 9, 2011, 1:30 am
__________________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
entry january 9, 2011, 1:30 am
Tomorrow begins my new year.
I will lay out some plans, goals for the year.
This evening I've felt like I've had critters crawling all over my skin. I've been having my period for a few days. Yesterday and today have been my heavy days. My chin broke out. I hope it's not MRSA. Then tonight my finger.
And I feel an invisible creepy entity crawling my skin.
Weird. Like how my blood used to feel like it was itchy.
I just went up to go to bed. I popped a Xanax to calm the skin. Yes, another odd thing.
I checked in with my heart and realize...it's Knapp crap again. I simply cannot (in any healthy way) read or interact with any of his projects.
Earlier today I donated $25 to help the Beyond the Art of Living blog because it is under threat from the Art of Living Corporation. Well...Knapp is the one who set up the BAoL defense fund. He set it up through his soon to open Healing Center for Spiritual and Cultic Abuse. I sent a note with my payment, which I made via Paypal.
"This donation is ONLY for the BAoL defense fund, NOT for the Center for Healing Spiritual & Cultic Abuse, Inc. For reasons I currently do not want to share, I am not comfortable supporting the CHSCA. I do support freedom of speech & transparency. Go for it BAoL! Thank you, ~carol welch"
Now I wish I never would have donated funds. I feel ... hmmm ... kind of dirty. I think now that my skin condition is actually a response to my virtual connect with John via that blog...even though John and I will probably not communicate.
I did want to help the BAoL blog, but I don't want to support the CHSCA.
And now I regret that I sent the money.
It behooves me to have no connect at all with Knapp. It is simply too triggering.
So...connect with my heart. Pull in my truth. What does that mean, pull in my truth? Heart connect. Visit my personas. Recognize that by donating, I haven't committed a mortal sin. I sent only $25. But I can't do it again. I simply can't.
John really harmed me. Some people would laugh. Probably John laughs it off.
I told Lema today when we were chatting that I feel like a piece of dental floss. And I do. I feel John used me and threw me out. I still shake my head in disbelief at times of his treatment toward me.
Inside, I want his non-profit to fail. At the same time I don't want others to get hurt in the same way that John has hurt me and Mia and Sam and Lema and Karen and the others at [certain organization]. And Louise...she got hurt in all this too. It's just so wrong.
I wonder if I can cancel my donation. Hmm...
Just checked on it...too late.
I'm sorry Carol.
I forgive you. Just next time, wait a bit before you jump. You're still learning.
God I hope John doesn't harm others in this process of his agenda. I simply cannot support that center.
My stomach turns.... :-(
***********************
Preface: 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.
______________________
***********************
entry january 9, 2011, 1:30 am
Tomorrow begins my new year.
I will lay out some plans, goals for the year.
This evening I've felt like I've had critters crawling all over my skin. I've been having my period for a few days. Yesterday and today have been my heavy days. My chin broke out. I hope it's not MRSA. Then tonight my finger.
And I feel an invisible creepy entity crawling my skin.
Weird. Like how my blood used to feel like it was itchy.
I just went up to go to bed. I popped a Xanax to calm the skin. Yes, another odd thing.
I checked in with my heart and realize...it's Knapp crap again. I simply cannot (in any healthy way) read or interact with any of his projects.
Earlier today I donated $25 to help the Beyond the Art of Living blog because it is under threat from the Art of Living Corporation. Well...Knapp is the one who set up the BAoL defense fund. He set it up through his soon to open Healing Center for Spiritual and Cultic Abuse. I sent a note with my payment, which I made via Paypal.
"This donation is ONLY for the BAoL defense fund, NOT for the Center for Healing Spiritual & Cultic Abuse, Inc. For reasons I currently do not want to share, I am not comfortable supporting the CHSCA. I do support freedom of speech & transparency. Go for it BAoL! Thank you, ~carol welch"
Now I wish I never would have donated funds. I feel ... hmmm ... kind of dirty. I think now that my skin condition is actually a response to my virtual connect with John via that blog...even though John and I will probably not communicate.
I did want to help the BAoL blog, but I don't want to support the CHSCA.
And now I regret that I sent the money.
It behooves me to have no connect at all with Knapp. It is simply too triggering.
So...connect with my heart. Pull in my truth. What does that mean, pull in my truth? Heart connect. Visit my personas. Recognize that by donating, I haven't committed a mortal sin. I sent only $25. But I can't do it again. I simply can't.
John really harmed me. Some people would laugh. Probably John laughs it off.
I told Lema today when we were chatting that I feel like a piece of dental floss. And I do. I feel John used me and threw me out. I still shake my head in disbelief at times of his treatment toward me.
Inside, I want his non-profit to fail. At the same time I don't want others to get hurt in the same way that John has hurt me and Mia and Sam and Lema and Karen and the others at [certain organization]. And Louise...she got hurt in all this too. It's just so wrong.
I wonder if I can cancel my donation. Hmm...
Just checked on it...too late.
I'm sorry Carol.
I forgive you. Just next time, wait a bit before you jump. You're still learning.
God I hope John doesn't harm others in this process of his agenda. I simply cannot support that center.
My stomach turns.... :-(
***********************
July 17, 2011
Serum Sickness
[Click here to read an update: Timeline since 2011 and the onset of nerve damage... ]
I'm having to adapt this week to relaxation.
For the past three months, I've been dealing with what I was referring to as a drug-induced injury in all my limbs. It's been horrible.
This past Monday, after almost 3 months of suffering (not an understatement), I finally got a definitive diagnosis..."serum sickness." My particular serum sickness was a response to terbinafine, a generic brand of oral Lamisil. I took the terbinadine only for 4 to 5 weeks in March/April. I stopped it in late April thinking the symptoms would clear; they didn't. I have learned that in rare cases serum sickness can take up to one year to clear. I hope my response is not that rare.
My symptoms? Both hands and arms and feet and legs became dysfunctional due to swelling in the joints, not to mention the malaise and overwhelming fatigue. Nights were horrific, especially in my hands. Some mornings I could barely walk. Everyday was a struggle. Yet, I'd get up and force myself to move and to continue to work as 'normally' as I could. Movement did relieve some of the discomfort and ease the pain though the pain was always there, always.
I refused to pull out the walker; absolutely refused. I did use toe-to-thigh compression socks on both legs along with compression knee sleeves for support. I used various types of compression gauntlets and braces for my wrists and hands, along with compression sleeves that began at my wrists and went up to my arm pits.
It was scary, to say the least. Part of the fear was a lack of diagnosis and the continual tests which showed nothing wrong with me. But it was obvious to anyone that saw me; I was not well.
I walked like a primate. A primate in pain.
I'm no foreigner to pain; I thought I knew pain. Then this 3-month bout began. Due to my other allergies and asthma, I cannot take non-steroidal anti-inflammatory pain relief medication. I utilize bromelain (on an empty stomach) when I need inflammatory relief. The bromelain didn't make a dent.
Once the diagnosis was definitive this past Monday, July 11, I was put on prednisone. Yes, another drug. But one I know well.
Pred and I have a long history and a love-hate relationship. I haven't needed it since 2006. Prior to 2006, we last danced in 2000. Prior to 2000, Pred and I lived with yearly (sometimes monthly) get togethers for over 15 years. I called Pred the trash can drug. Makes you feel good initially, relieves the symptoms...but then there can be horrid rebound once off the drug. Not to mention the side effects, one of which is bone degeneration. Thus probably my reason for hip replacement surgery in 2008 at the young age of 49.
This past Monday I held the four, white 10mg tablets in my palm. I looked at them. I whispered, OK buddy, do your magic. Then let's part ways. I popped them and drowned them down with water, while my emotions connected with my heart and body embracing all working in harmony. Pred and I will be together for another couple to few weeks.
The real test for how I do in regard to the symptoms of the serum sickness will come following the Prednisone.
I hope there is no rebound.
In the meantime, I'll enjoy the relief. My hands are still in gauntlets, but my legs are almost back to normal.
I'm having to get used to "relaxing" in that every function is not a struggle. On the other side of the coin is possible "roid rage"...the roller coaster of moods that can come with prednisone. I know them well and can recognize and regulate, for the most part.
I'm going to the Parkway today for some much needed wilderness relief. I plan to hike.
***
Related entries:
Hands in Gauntlets
july 1, 2011 entry
Update: Serum Sickness
Journal Entry: 3/26/13
Timeline since 2011 and the onset of nerve damage...
***
I'm having to adapt this week to relaxation.
For the past three months, I've been dealing with what I was referring to as a drug-induced injury in all my limbs. It's been horrible.
This past Monday, after almost 3 months of suffering (not an understatement), I finally got a definitive diagnosis..."serum sickness." My particular serum sickness was a response to terbinafine, a generic brand of oral Lamisil. I took the terbinadine only for 4 to 5 weeks in March/April. I stopped it in late April thinking the symptoms would clear; they didn't. I have learned that in rare cases serum sickness can take up to one year to clear. I hope my response is not that rare.
My symptoms? Both hands and arms and feet and legs became dysfunctional due to swelling in the joints, not to mention the malaise and overwhelming fatigue. Nights were horrific, especially in my hands. Some mornings I could barely walk. Everyday was a struggle. Yet, I'd get up and force myself to move and to continue to work as 'normally' as I could. Movement did relieve some of the discomfort and ease the pain though the pain was always there, always.
I refused to pull out the walker; absolutely refused. I did use toe-to-thigh compression socks on both legs along with compression knee sleeves for support. I used various types of compression gauntlets and braces for my wrists and hands, along with compression sleeves that began at my wrists and went up to my arm pits.
It was scary, to say the least. Part of the fear was a lack of diagnosis and the continual tests which showed nothing wrong with me. But it was obvious to anyone that saw me; I was not well.
I walked like a primate. A primate in pain.
I'm no foreigner to pain; I thought I knew pain. Then this 3-month bout began. Due to my other allergies and asthma, I cannot take non-steroidal anti-inflammatory pain relief medication. I utilize bromelain (on an empty stomach) when I need inflammatory relief. The bromelain didn't make a dent.
Once the diagnosis was definitive this past Monday, July 11, I was put on prednisone. Yes, another drug. But one I know well.
Pred and I have a long history and a love-hate relationship. I haven't needed it since 2006. Prior to 2006, we last danced in 2000. Prior to 2000, Pred and I lived with yearly (sometimes monthly) get togethers for over 15 years. I called Pred the trash can drug. Makes you feel good initially, relieves the symptoms...but then there can be horrid rebound once off the drug. Not to mention the side effects, one of which is bone degeneration. Thus probably my reason for hip replacement surgery in 2008 at the young age of 49.
This past Monday I held the four, white 10mg tablets in my palm. I looked at them. I whispered, OK buddy, do your magic. Then let's part ways. I popped them and drowned them down with water, while my emotions connected with my heart and body embracing all working in harmony. Pred and I will be together for another couple to few weeks.
The real test for how I do in regard to the symptoms of the serum sickness will come following the Prednisone.
I hope there is no rebound.
In the meantime, I'll enjoy the relief. My hands are still in gauntlets, but my legs are almost back to normal.
I'm having to get used to "relaxing" in that every function is not a struggle. On the other side of the coin is possible "roid rage"...the roller coaster of moods that can come with prednisone. I know them well and can recognize and regulate, for the most part.
I'm going to the Parkway today for some much needed wilderness relief. I plan to hike.
***
Related entries:
Hands in Gauntlets
july 1, 2011 entry
Update: Serum Sickness
Journal Entry: 3/26/13
Timeline since 2011 and the onset of nerve damage...
***
No More Secrets II
__________________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
********************************
journal entry: no more secrets II
12/08/10. 3:15 PM
I'm doing extremely better in regard to Knapp. I'm not sure exactly what has helped with the transformation the past 4+ days. And it has only been 4+ days, not enough time really to know if the better is actually more stable or simply a-passing through. Regardless, I'm glad for the 4+ days.
What are some factors that I think helped:
~allowing myself to feel the rage
~being aware and noticing the self-loathing
~allowing myself to feel the grief
~writing about "it"
~being able to share what I wrote
~identifying the trigger factors
~regulating the distorted thoughts
~centering my heart focus
~discussing what happened and my responses with Dr. McColloch & getting his perspective
In light of the above, I need to recall those factors. Most likely, there will be more triggers to come. I may feel again the vindictiveness(v). I may feel the rage(r). It's understandable I would feel those emotions in this situation.
I do not have to allow those emotional responses to lead to self-loathing. I can feel the v & r w/out turning on myself and berating myself. For the v & r I can do what I did this time...to write and to heart soak. If I start to plummet into self-loathing...regulate, write, and perhaps "personify" the loathe...or at least check in with the personas I have already named. I could also personify the rage, if need be.
After getting through the storm, by Thursday, I really had no desire to post the retraction. I want to be able to forgive John, to recall the good he did for me. At the same time, I don't want to excuse the harm. John is a professional mental health therapist.
Goals for me in regard to the Knapp situation:
Looking over my "goals" from what I wrote during my anger toward Knapp after speaking with Sam, the "No More Secrets" entry, I feel the only one I'd eliminate at this point is #1 about posting the retraction. I'm just not sure about posting a retraction. I guess much depends on the outcome of the investigation.
********************************
Preface: 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.
______________________
********************************
journal entry: no more secrets II
12/08/10. 3:15 PM
I'm doing extremely better in regard to Knapp. I'm not sure exactly what has helped with the transformation the past 4+ days. And it has only been 4+ days, not enough time really to know if the better is actually more stable or simply a-passing through. Regardless, I'm glad for the 4+ days.
What are some factors that I think helped:
~allowing myself to feel the rage
~being aware and noticing the self-loathing
~allowing myself to feel the grief
~writing about "it"
~being able to share what I wrote
~identifying the trigger factors
~regulating the distorted thoughts
~centering my heart focus
~discussing what happened and my responses with Dr. McColloch & getting his perspective
In light of the above, I need to recall those factors. Most likely, there will be more triggers to come. I may feel again the vindictiveness(v). I may feel the rage(r). It's understandable I would feel those emotions in this situation.
I do not have to allow those emotional responses to lead to self-loathing. I can feel the v & r w/out turning on myself and berating myself. For the v & r I can do what I did this time...to write and to heart soak. If I start to plummet into self-loathing...regulate, write, and perhaps "personify" the loathe...or at least check in with the personas I have already named. I could also personify the rage, if need be.
After getting through the storm, by Thursday, I really had no desire to post the retraction. I want to be able to forgive John, to recall the good he did for me. At the same time, I don't want to excuse the harm. John is a professional mental health therapist.
Goals for me in regard to the Knapp situation:
- speak my truth
- uphold my integrity
- not succumb to silencing myself
- be an advocate for me
- be truthful
- be open to possible various outcomes
Looking over my "goals" from what I wrote during my anger toward Knapp after speaking with Sam, the "No More Secrets" entry, I feel the only one I'd eliminate at this point is #1 about posting the retraction. I'm just not sure about posting a retraction. I guess much depends on the outcome of the investigation.
********************************
Dis-ease
__________________________
Preface: 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.
______________________
July 18, 2011, added note: As of yet, that I can find, I have not written details about when someone contacted me at the end of November, 2010, wanting to discuss something with me. We finally connected the beginning of December. That something was the person's then-recent experience with John Knapp wherein the person stated to me that they "felt like John put a gun to [their] head and pulled the trigger." That situation gave way to the emotional turmoil I wrote about the end of November and the beginning of December, 2010.
______________________
journal entry ~ dis-ease
12/08/10. 12:31 AM
I'm self hurting.
I know it's wrong.
My self-hurting isn't cutting myself. I eat. I loathe. I've caught myself telling myself, "You're horrible and worthless. Your actions prove it. Knapp proved it. You're not even good enough for that stupid, god-damn non-profit he's formulating. You're a jerk. You've done nothing with your life that serves anyone. You have no career, no professional training. You spent your adult life sick and in a cult. You leave. You think you might help others. And it ends up the platform where you thought maybe you could do some good is run by a self-serving jackass."
I am so angry. It burns. And I don't know what to do about it. I don't know where to put it. If I write about it, what difference does that make. It's so inconsequential. I am so inconsequential. If I write, no one hears anyway. There is nothing I can do about this shit. I'm just a person who has no credentials, no say. Another of the unheard. Why does any of it even fucking matter?
I hate Knapp. I hate that what he did affects me so much. What is fucking wrong with me that I can't just go along? And if I do, I have this simmering boil underneath. I don't act out toward others; I turn on myself. Hell, it was even Knapp that pointed out that my self-loathing was not that much different than a cutter.
I feel like a rabid dog.
Why does it burn so? What lies beneath all this self-hatred? Can anyone really understand it? How can I love others when I hate myself?
There is so much pain.
.......................
~ in the house <><> rabid dog <><> seeking its prey <><> i watch from the rafters ~
.......................
________________________________
[end entry]
Preface: 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.
______________________
July 18, 2011, added note: As of yet, that I can find, I have not written details about when someone contacted me at the end of November, 2010, wanting to discuss something with me. We finally connected the beginning of December. That something was the person's then-recent experience with John Knapp wherein the person stated to me that they "felt like John put a gun to [their] head and pulled the trigger." That situation gave way to the emotional turmoil I wrote about the end of November and the beginning of December, 2010.
______________________
journal entry ~ dis-ease
12/08/10. 12:31 AM
I'm self hurting.
I know it's wrong.
My self-hurting isn't cutting myself. I eat. I loathe. I've caught myself telling myself, "You're horrible and worthless. Your actions prove it. Knapp proved it. You're not even good enough for that stupid, god-damn non-profit he's formulating. You're a jerk. You've done nothing with your life that serves anyone. You have no career, no professional training. You spent your adult life sick and in a cult. You leave. You think you might help others. And it ends up the platform where you thought maybe you could do some good is run by a self-serving jackass."
I am so angry. It burns. And I don't know what to do about it. I don't know where to put it. If I write about it, what difference does that make. It's so inconsequential. I am so inconsequential. If I write, no one hears anyway. There is nothing I can do about this shit. I'm just a person who has no credentials, no say. Another of the unheard. Why does any of it even fucking matter?
I hate Knapp. I hate that what he did affects me so much. What is fucking wrong with me that I can't just go along? And if I do, I have this simmering boil underneath. I don't act out toward others; I turn on myself. Hell, it was even Knapp that pointed out that my self-loathing was not that much different than a cutter.
I feel like a rabid dog.
Why does it burn so? What lies beneath all this self-hatred? Can anyone really understand it? How can I love others when I hate myself?
There is so much pain.
.......................
~ in the house <><> rabid dog <><> seeking its prey <><> i watch from the rafters ~
.......................
________________________________
[end entry]
No More Secrets
journal entry: no more secrets
december 6, 2010
I've found myself being 'eat up' again by the Knapp crap. I finally figured out what was getting at me, but not until I was reviewing the emails Sam sent me. Reviewing or anal-eyezing...whichever it was. I guess it was an analysis of John's twisting of the situation in which John put Sam.
As I was reading what John wrote to Sam and the others, I realized I was holding back from Sam. I was, in a sense, covering for John, still giving him the benefit of the doubt.
It was subtle, this justification and rationalization for John's actions; but I felt it and it felt wrong. It felt like I wasn't really being honest.
I don't want to believe that John could actually be a handler.
Mia's phrase went through my head: "John will continue to misstep; he can't help himself."
I decided to throw off the rationalizations. I told myself, "That's not evil Carol; it is simply seeing what happened. Nor is it non-compassionate toward John."
I let Sam know how I saw the picture within the emails he sent me; emails from John to the group Sam had been a part of. I weighed them with what I know of Sam's situation from our 2-1/2 hours worth of Skype conversations, from what I know of my situation, from what I know of three other people's personal Knapp scenarios, and from what I've read on the web. I can't deny what I've experienced, what I've heard, what I've read.
I am open to information that would prove me wrong. And if I'm wrong, I'll step up and admit it. If that would happen, I'd also be understanding with myself.
Plus I didn't go looking for any of this.
It's just like the GreaseSpot drama. It quite literally fell in my lap.
I'll never forget standing at my kitchen sink after the GreaseSpot and The Safety Net backroom antics hit the proverbial fan. I stood at my sink thinking that if this stuff was important enough to go to a court of law, the egg would be all over certain GreaseSpot moderators. As I stood at the sink, I had a feeling in my gut that at some point I'd have to stand up for something that was more serious than what happened on that discussion board. I had this gut feeling that it was preparation for something in the future.
As small as the Knapp scenario is, it has still been an ordeal for me.
But never did I ask for any of this. And in my wildest imagination I never thought I'd be wanting to expose my therapist for abusive tactics.
Back in 2006, all I prayed to God for was, "No secrets." I wanted to know. I wanted my heart open and I wanted to see. I didn't want anymore secrets! So perhaps I did ask for this - "this" being the exposure of the underbellies of webs of deceit, the exposure of my own vulnerabilities and how I too can get pulled in, and I don't know what else.
Sam came to me about John; I did not approach Sam. He wants some answers. He is perhaps as baffled with his Knapp experience as I was/am with mine. But he wasn't a client; he was a colleague.
Today, after I wrote Sam regarding my thoughts about John's emails, the feeling of me being "eaten up" by this crap was dissipating. I felt a certain freedom. I realized that I am not going to remain silent. Sam asked me for information; I didn't go to him. But I had been holding back because I felt in that awful place again about what I should or shouldn't say. Whether or not I'm gossiping or assigning evil or...scapegoating? Checking my motives. Not wanting to blame John. Feeling so much of this should be kept in confidence.
And then I thought, "Fuck it. Am I playing John's game by muzzling myself? Isn't that how abusers win? Carol you know that it is how abusers win. But is John an abuser? Well, look at the little wake you are starting to see. You can't deny the obvious."
Then I had the paranoia thought, "What if John sent Sam to you to get information, to see what you would reveal to Sam, to see if John can catch you in your words Carol." I stopped that thought. If John does that, he'll be in a heap of trouble, I would think. I'm not responsible for John. I'm responsible for me. I do what I must do to keep my integrity the best I know how.
I thought of what Joe stated...about the bullet points. I've avoided the exercise at least for one reason of not wanting to admit that I do want to expose John. I do feel a desire for vengeance. Any 'vengeance' motive, I'll keep in check. I'll allow universe to handle that aspect. But, it is not vengeance to speak my truth.
So what are a few goals I want regarding my situation with Knapp:
1 - I think that at some point I want to post my retraction blog entry; I want to expose John. But I don't want to muck the investigation or do anything that would put me in harm's way legally. I'll also need to be prepared for my own emotional responses once I post. My concerns regarding Sam and Anita have already been handled - at least somewhat.
2 - I want to let the investigator know about John's non-profit. Personally, I'd like to see it shut down because I don't trust John. That said I have no control over whether it shuts down or not. Perhaps it will help some people. Fine and good; I still wouldn't recommend it unless John makes a big change.
3 - I want to be at peace with myself, to feel that I have acted with as much integrity as I know how.
4 - I want to not think about the situation everyday. At the same time I want to not forget it. I want it to be incorporated into my life's lessons, my personal curriculum of life events.
5 - I'd like to see John held accountable for what happened to me, that he does receive disciplinary action with enough impact so that this sort of thing doesn't happen to another client.
Some of my goals may change. And that's o.k.
__________________________
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.
______________________
december 6, 2010
I've found myself being 'eat up' again by the Knapp crap. I finally figured out what was getting at me, but not until I was reviewing the emails Sam sent me. Reviewing or anal-eyezing...whichever it was. I guess it was an analysis of John's twisting of the situation in which John put Sam.
As I was reading what John wrote to Sam and the others, I realized I was holding back from Sam. I was, in a sense, covering for John, still giving him the benefit of the doubt.
It was subtle, this justification and rationalization for John's actions; but I felt it and it felt wrong. It felt like I wasn't really being honest.
I don't want to believe that John could actually be a handler.
Mia's phrase went through my head: "John will continue to misstep; he can't help himself."
I decided to throw off the rationalizations. I told myself, "That's not evil Carol; it is simply seeing what happened. Nor is it non-compassionate toward John."
I let Sam know how I saw the picture within the emails he sent me; emails from John to the group Sam had been a part of. I weighed them with what I know of Sam's situation from our 2-1/2 hours worth of Skype conversations, from what I know of my situation, from what I know of three other people's personal Knapp scenarios, and from what I've read on the web. I can't deny what I've experienced, what I've heard, what I've read.
I am open to information that would prove me wrong. And if I'm wrong, I'll step up and admit it. If that would happen, I'd also be understanding with myself.
Plus I didn't go looking for any of this.
It's just like the GreaseSpot drama. It quite literally fell in my lap.
I'll never forget standing at my kitchen sink after the GreaseSpot and The Safety Net backroom antics hit the proverbial fan. I stood at my sink thinking that if this stuff was important enough to go to a court of law, the egg would be all over certain GreaseSpot moderators. As I stood at the sink, I had a feeling in my gut that at some point I'd have to stand up for something that was more serious than what happened on that discussion board. I had this gut feeling that it was preparation for something in the future.
As small as the Knapp scenario is, it has still been an ordeal for me.
But never did I ask for any of this. And in my wildest imagination I never thought I'd be wanting to expose my therapist for abusive tactics.
Back in 2006, all I prayed to God for was, "No secrets." I wanted to know. I wanted my heart open and I wanted to see. I didn't want anymore secrets! So perhaps I did ask for this - "this" being the exposure of the underbellies of webs of deceit, the exposure of my own vulnerabilities and how I too can get pulled in, and I don't know what else.
Sam came to me about John; I did not approach Sam. He wants some answers. He is perhaps as baffled with his Knapp experience as I was/am with mine. But he wasn't a client; he was a colleague.
Today, after I wrote Sam regarding my thoughts about John's emails, the feeling of me being "eaten up" by this crap was dissipating. I felt a certain freedom. I realized that I am not going to remain silent. Sam asked me for information; I didn't go to him. But I had been holding back because I felt in that awful place again about what I should or shouldn't say. Whether or not I'm gossiping or assigning evil or...scapegoating? Checking my motives. Not wanting to blame John. Feeling so much of this should be kept in confidence.
And then I thought, "Fuck it. Am I playing John's game by muzzling myself? Isn't that how abusers win? Carol you know that it is how abusers win. But is John an abuser? Well, look at the little wake you are starting to see. You can't deny the obvious."
Then I had the paranoia thought, "What if John sent Sam to you to get information, to see what you would reveal to Sam, to see if John can catch you in your words Carol." I stopped that thought. If John does that, he'll be in a heap of trouble, I would think. I'm not responsible for John. I'm responsible for me. I do what I must do to keep my integrity the best I know how.
I thought of what Joe stated...about the bullet points. I've avoided the exercise at least for one reason of not wanting to admit that I do want to expose John. I do feel a desire for vengeance. Any 'vengeance' motive, I'll keep in check. I'll allow universe to handle that aspect. But, it is not vengeance to speak my truth.
So what are a few goals I want regarding my situation with Knapp:
1 - I think that at some point I want to post my retraction blog entry; I want to expose John. But I don't want to muck the investigation or do anything that would put me in harm's way legally. I'll also need to be prepared for my own emotional responses once I post. My concerns regarding Sam and Anita have already been handled - at least somewhat.
2 - I want to let the investigator know about John's non-profit. Personally, I'd like to see it shut down because I don't trust John. That said I have no control over whether it shuts down or not. Perhaps it will help some people. Fine and good; I still wouldn't recommend it unless John makes a big change.
3 - I want to be at peace with myself, to feel that I have acted with as much integrity as I know how.
4 - I want to not think about the situation everyday. At the same time I want to not forget it. I want it to be incorporated into my life's lessons, my personal curriculum of life events.
5 - I'd like to see John held accountable for what happened to me, that he does receive disciplinary action with enough impact so that this sort of thing doesn't happen to another client.
Some of my goals may change. And that's o.k.
__________________________
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.
______________________