An Affair with my therapist: The whole story: beginning to end.

This is Part 1 of a 5 part story. It is my story of falling in love with my therapist, how the love affair began, the middle and the ending. It's interesting to see how this Romeo and Juliet love can go so wrong, is so one sided, and why it's so hard to let go.

PART 1: HOW COULD I FALL FOR MY THERAPIST?
The Origins

I haven't read all the posts. I just wanted to say that I quit therapy 5 years ago to be with my therapist. I told him during therapy that I was having problems, that I was in love with him, and asked him to help me. I read all about transference and was sure it wasn't the case here. He was sympathetic, caring and offered that if it was a problem for me he understood and could refer me to someone else. I assured him that I would be fine, that I could set it aside, because the work I was doing with him was too valuable to let that get in my way. But, he never offered me ways to cope, we just smiled when I brought it up again, and he would again ask if I wanted to see someone else.

I grew up with a bi-polar, managing mother and a sweet, even tempered, mild mannered father. Both were demanding in their own way, both were the 1st children of demanding, high achieving 1st children. My father was also the town doctor, a Dr. Welby of sorts, a healer, a good listener, on call for everyone but us, but I understood why he was never home, and so never available, never protective, never at any of my events, distant, yet a good listener when home. Everyone loved him, catered to him, helped him, brought him his paper and slippers, everyone except for my mother who was beside herself with irritation and frustration-- she claimed she felt lonely, she couldn't count on him, he had secret affairs (for which I blamed her because she was so unstable, angry and needy), she said that he was passive aggressive. I scoffed at her then.

Now I see both sides. I see they were both narcissists and selfish, and I was the understanding one, the capable one, the driven one, the one who mended and bent, took care of my siblings like the surrogate parent, gave them advice because my parents acted like children. My mother loves to tell the story that on Sundays I would crawl out of my crib, go to the kitchen (since she was sleeping late and the maid was gone), and I would get 3 bottles out, pour milk into them, but didn't put the lids back on the bottle right, get 3 bananas, and open 3 boxes of powdered Jell-O. She would continue with amusement, that I would take them to my brother and sister's cribs and give them each a bottle, a banana and Jell-O. Then I would crawl back into my crib and have my breakfast. "Isn't that adorable?" she would ask everyone. NO< I would retort: "It's not adorable, it's horrible that I felt like I was responsible for feeding my siblings when they were still in a crib and I was , too. How old was I, I asked her? "Oh, I don't know, you couldn't have been more than 2 1/2!" Oh, that's hilarious, I thought. I remember it. It wasn't funny that I felt responsible because the maid was gone, and my mother was like a child, and my baby sister and 3 year old brother were hungry.

My mother proudly continues explaining, "You know, ever since you were born, I knew you could take care of yourself, like I could throw you out in the snow as an infant and you would always survive." Great imagery for me of my mother's caring for me. She loves to tell how we children each started cooking for ourselves at 5 years old: pancakes, french toast, oatmeal, eggs, hamburgers, pie, cookies. It's true, I am a great cook now, I can cook anything, I can cook for 100 people....no prob. Thanks Mom. Notice no mention in her list of cereal, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, you know the safe things for a 5 year old to make? What kind of mother lets their 5 year old stand at a stove alone frying things, boiling things, baking and making breakfast and lunch for everyone while she sleeps? I am also great at laundry and cleaning floors. She was proud as she came back from a 14 hour day out shopping, or even when she was gone 3 unannounced days disappearing, to say, New York. She'd call me and say, "don't tell your father where I am, but please put on a roast and some potatoes on 350 in the oven, I'll probably be home tomorrow, maybe the next day." I was angry and I was 12.

I assured my crying siblings at the Chinese restaurant where my father announced their divorce, where my mother stood up and pointed her finger at him and broke down angrily emoting, "You will NEVER see these children ever again." And then my 4 year old brother started to wail that he wanted to see his daddy, my older brother shut down, paralyzed in front of his untouched dinner, my sister looked at me anxiously to quell the fear that was welling up inside of her, but she knew I would take care of her. She was 14. The waiter was upset, I looked at him and calmly told him the food was all fine, it wasn't anything he'd done, it was a family matter. I held my little brother, and took my sister's hand and assured my crying baby brother that I would see to it that he would see his Daddy any time he wanted to. I put my arm around the statue that was my older brother. I told my mom to sit down and please calm down, she was shaking and a mess. I told my Dad it was going to be okay, it would all work out. I protected everyone....I was 17.

I was ripe for over achievement, for isolation, for rescuing, for depression, for martyrdom, ripe for a series of narcisstic,, immature, ungiving, passive-aggressive men of my own.

One day, 6 years ago, my own daughter was stricken with bulimia and anorexia. It isn't a surprise now that I know the causes. But at the time, I was imploding, I couldn't help her, I couldn't let her feel her own pain, I had too much to deal with. We were living all alone, these 3 children and I, and now my 5"10" 17 year old daughter weighed 118 pounds (well, that's what she admitted to). I searched on the internet, found a clinic headed by a doctor who had an international reputation, told him my husband whom I was separated from for 3 years needed major help so he wouldn't ruin our two younger children, and that my daughter was killing herself slowly, and I was emotionally exhausted and at the end of my line, Yes, I remember him saying, of course, could he see us. And Yes, we were right down his alley of expertise. I finally had reached for a life line. I was getting help. My mother described me then as a piece of bone with hunk of hair -- I was like death. My husband whom I was separated from had been cruel and had multiple layers of deep psychological problems, and of course, was extremely passive aggression.

I was a manager holding everyone together, but I couldn't allow anyone to fall apart, he abused my oldest whom he adopted after her father abandoned her in infancy. Now I was holding on tight, one more insult to mind and I would snap - Poor child, she was ripe for bulimia, I reached out to this clinic, terrified, knowing I had ****ed up my family by not being strong enough, not tough enough, not knowing myself enough, not sacrificing enough.

I was in more trouble than I knew. I was tormented by recurring nightmares, I was in a dark deep hole, hiding in my house behind thick velvet curtains, barely speaking to anyone anymore, no one knew how deep the troubles were inside our house. My husband hadn't just hurt me this time, his last and final target was the children, my oldest bore the brunt. I thought my children would be safe with me there, that I alone bore his torment, that things like this were impossible under my watch. Why did I let him stay? It was a slow, slippery slope. And I couldn't see the slide.

I was nearly destitute when my first husband left. There were too many instances where I found myslef rummaging the sofa for dimes looking for diaper money, going without meals til payday-- I mean really poor and with a baby. That was a big part of my nightmares, wandering a big city, no food, no shelter, nothing, losing my children to social services because I had no home, wandering in the dark, no friends, no money, no help, no one. I couldn't let my husband walk away with his income and leave us broke, there were 3 children now, not just 1. My parents were bankrupt, my bipolar mom saw to that. I couldn't go "home."

AT this clinic, my daughter became a inpatient resident, my husband was yanked up by his metaphorical collar by my soon to be therapist, and later lover. This therapist, told my husband that he could have gone to jail. It was like finally SOMEBODY stood up for me. That moment was the first time anyone said that my husband was wrong, everyone else told me I was crazy, my parents asked me what I did to cause him to be so cruel? My friends said I should just stress him less and clean the house better. My husband had pulled the wool over eveyone's eyes, including 3 therapist who kept telling me he was a new man, that he regretted what he did, that he was a good man, they assured me he was okay. A male psychiatrist told me that i would ruin my children if I separated from my husband, that he was trying so hard to be better, that I should give him a chance.

This therapist was the first person who defended me and told my husband he was WRONG and needed help or could lose his license from his unhealthy impulses. He told me these other therapists hadn't seen what my husband really was, that my husband minimized and justified his actions. My knees went weak from fatigue of holding on so tight so many years, I had to sit down and couldn't believe my ears. My relief overwhelmed me. finally, I could let go, lean on someone, turn to someone else for advice, and put my child's life into a trustworthy man's capable hands, a healer -- a Dr. Welby of sorts, mixed with Sir Gallahad. This stalwart man was a powerful concoction for me.

This man, this therapist decided who in our family was going to see which therapist. We were all there, my family and 3 therapists, he said: You will be seeing him, you will be seeing her, and I will be seeing YOU. I felt this giant sense of relief, that I would be safe. It wasn't long before the chemistry I felt for him was sizzling, he was everything a man should be, a great listener, strong, charismatic, handsome, powerful, gentle, wise, empathetic, a leader. I saw him for 6 months, weekly, I never missed a session, he hugged me after every session, he was the only person who for years had touched ME. I mean I held my own children, but it was a one way street, I was there for them, not they for me. He became my rock, he had reached into the murky, still, dark waters, down at the bottom where I was lying nearly motionless and like Hercules pulled me out of the dark freezing ocean and breathed life back into me.

How could you not love a man like that?

Part 2: GOING FROM PATIENT TO LOVER
It was Like the Ultimate Romantic Movie

My daughter, my estranged husband, and I all began going to the clinic in August. My daughter finished her inpatient time there and went to college. My husband continued faithfully on his own. It was now February and I had been loyally seeing my therapist weekly. On Valentine's Day he invited me to watch him speak at a University. I was so proud, he mesmerized people like a rock star.
Afterwards, in the dark, he walked me to my car, asked me what my favorite restaurant was, I told him I had to go home, and he hugged me long and hard. It was electric, I could smell his hair and feel the muscles in his back. A month later I announced to him that I was finished with therapy, that he did a great job, I had done all the work I needed to. He had healed my daughter, and she was successfully already off to college. We ended the sessions and he said, "If you ever want to meet for coffee sometime?" We did, the very next week. He knew, I knew...it was all planned with no words. It was fireworks, months of being within arms length, pouring out my soul, being cared about, really listened to, healed, encouraged, rescued from hell-- it was everything I never could have even hoped was mine, it was like finally resting in someone's arms and feeling safe enough to close your eyes and sleep. My inner war was over, and I sure as hell was never going back -- all I had to do was stay with him, he would make sure I was safe forever. He wanted to marry me and he had a plan, but I was to never ever tell anyone we had been together in that way for the next 2 years. Also, during that time he forbade me to see another therapist. He explained that if I did he would be ruined and we couldn't be together. I promised with all my heart that I would never, could never tell.

I'll tell you the end now, before I go on. I am not seeing him anymore, I haven't for a year. So you know, it wasn't the simple Cinderella ending. ...and it was nearly as hard as fighting dragons getting out. This guy has real clout in his field, he has written books, sits on boards, is President of this and that. Slowly I began to feel something was amiss. First of all, now that he wasn't my therapist, he began to change. He was interested in my problems as long as the problem was not him. For instance, he would laugh at me when I said I felt lonely after sex, said I was crazy, while tears were streaming down my cheeks. I would ask why he didn't answer his cell phone or email for an entire weeks when he was 'out of town." He told me I was too needy, that he loved me, and couldn't wait to see me. At the beginning he said he didn't answer because his cell phone didn't work, or it wasn't charged, etc. But often it turned out that he was on a trip with his ex-wife or someone else...female. I would ask why it was that there seemed to be no cell coverage in California, Vermont, New York, Florida, ARizona, the places he spent his vacations, and why I couldn't go with him, or anytime after 8 pm. He called me paranoid, silly, and if I pressed he would call me crazy. And you know, that was like a knife in my chest, crazy? He was the expert, was I crazy? Why would he be so mean? But I saw another almost slightly sadistic side to him that I had never seen before, it happened like clockwork after sex. For about 1 hour after it was best to stay away from him or he would say the most hurtful cruel things. Of course, i would figure he had a difficult childhood...blah, blah, blah.

Sometimes, I couldn't take the disappearing acts, or the meanness, or the vagueness, and I would hate him, then break it off. He was fine by that, and "respected my silence." But after a month of not being able to get out of bed, feeling like I couldn't breathe without him, once again overcome by nightmares, and finding myself once again dropping into a dark well of isolation -- I would go back to him. And as long as I pretended nothing had happened, smiled and went about it like I had just seen him yesterday, he would take right back up with the relationship, no anger, no discussion, no mention, he would say I was wonderful, amazing, a renaissance woman, brilliant, talented, and he would top it off with the fact that he was madly in love with me.

But when I thought we should be more open publicly about our relationship, I wanted to meet his friends, his ex-wife. He would say that his ex-wife (his best friend and family), also his partner, wouldn't understand if she saw us together, so we had to stay a secret. Oh, and he was afraid the husband I was separated from would get "mad". Also, I was to understand how he had gone out on a limb for me, saying he could lose his license. Wow, all that for me? No question, I had to "protect him". He knew me and my type, that my loyalties run deep, that I would protect him, life, body and soul -- it's who I am, it's what I do.

But...would he protect me? I had to be honest, NO. Would he be there for me if I needed a ride to the airport, or if my car broke down? NO. Did I have a key to his place? NO. Did I feel I had any leverage in this relationship? NO. Was he having affairs? I felt it was possible. Was he reachable at most normal off-work times. NO. Did I do things for HIM? Yes. Cook? Yes. WE fixed up his house, planted his gardens, moved his furniture, took his car to the mechanic, helped him get ready for parties (which I couldn't attend), picked out tile, art, countertops, I fixed his lights, fixed his computer, we planned so many home projects for HIM. Even did some photograph and graphic work for him. Whatever he needed I was his girl Friday.

Now not to be overly harsh. He was there for me when I WAS WITH HIM. He would listen as long as I talked. He adamantly and heatedly proclaimed his love, gave me generous gifts, tickets, made huge special efforts to make dates that were amazing, correction: epic. And the sex was incredible.

When I was with him, it was like the ultimate romantic movie.

PART 3: FALLING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH

When we were apart, it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. And in turn I felt like I was falling off the face of the earth.

I realized I had no hold on him. He was always calm. Always in control. Always so together. Always had an answer. When I said, "I wish you to need me, like I need you." His response? He would laugh, then say "That's ridiculous." If I cried because I was lonely after 3 weeks of not seeing him? HIs response? "If this is too hard on you, then you should walk away. I don't want to cause you pain." He was non-chalant, as if he this relationship was nothing for him.

My response? I read all these self-help books about attracting men. Maybe it was me. I read the entire series by Christian Carter, it was my Bible, it actually helped me hook myself deeper in with him. I learned how to not be needy, not say anything too dramatic or emotional, be sexy, fun, attractive, get him closer. I learned to handle my own loneliness alone... I was actually becoming more of a martyr than before, just a very unneedy martyr. WOW...How did that happen? I was right back to my original state of mind, but instead of being with my poor husband who was a mere pawn to his own emotionally screwed up interior, this new guy? This "therapist", wow, if my husband was a pawn, this guy was the professional Chess player, the Boris Spassky of psychology. I was play-dough in the expert's hands.

Seemed like it was so painful when I didn't see him, and the doubts were killing me, but I couldn't ask him, who he was with on all these trips? Why couldn't I ask anything of him, why didn't he say? Why didn't he need me? How could he love me, say I was the perfect woman that he was so proud of me, but if I mentioned a problem with us or him then, I was paranoid, dramatic and crazy? What happened to the caring, loving, all accepting, understanding Knight in Shining Armor? Why wouldn't his cell phone work when he was out of town or after 8 pm? Too busy, too tired, too overworked, too stressed out, too overwhelmed -- I heard it all.

Well, duh, you might say to me. But I wouldn't see the obvious, it meant I had nowhere to go but down. You see, when we got together, every fear I had melted away, I was in heaven again. I thought I must be nuts for worrying....but actually, I wasn't nuts at all.

AFter 2 years, my oldest daughter had started she wanted reconciliation of our family, wanted Dad back, didn't want to be the reason her little sister and brother couldn't live with their father. She wanted a whole family back -- and she was afraid he wouldn't finish paying for college. I told my therapist expecting to hear how I could reassure my daughter.

You know what he said? HE actually said it was a good idea. What? One of his therapists was seeing my husband, so he had said it would be alright. Why would he suggest this? The kids were used to their Dad living down the street. Now this was going to be another major adjustment. He had been out of our lives and house for 5 years. Sure, my little kids missed him, and yes, he was trying so hard, but i was no expert, how was I to know if he was okay, I missed it before. My therapist, also my lover, with those words had the effect of an unexpected punch me in the gut.

My oldest had wanted this, and now my therapist (ex) was saying it was a great idea. What? Why? After telling me my husband was not to be trusted, would never be "cured", would harm the kids psychologically, was bad for me? Why? But you know, he was the expert, and I trusted him. My husband came back to his own bedroom, and I slept in the guest room. Hmmm, not so hard to see why now, looking back. Now it's obvious that my therapist wanted to put yet another obstacle in front of marrying me. It was getting too close for comfort for him. The promises of marriage, the fantasy of moving to another state, or another country...too real for comfort, and the 2 year moratorium was nearly over. I guess, this way, he could keep me in his bed, but only on one weekend day when he needed his "batteries recharged." IE, SEX.

One night I was with him all day and late into the evening. He had gone to bed early. He left his computer on, and I went on to check something on the internet. Well, he left his email open, big mistake: Seems he'd been working eHarmony pretty hard and for a long time. I remembered earlier then that he kept checking his email during the day, and smiling. Also, it was news to me that he had just gotten back from Hawaii with someone else, and not a colleague.. He told me he went to get away from it all, but remained vague. Vague was his way.

He claimed with passion that he never lied to me, and if I were his lawyer, I would have to agree. He never did, because he never counted lies of omission. BUT he never stopped telling me he was madly in love with me, that I was brilliant, talented, amazing, incredible, beautiful, attractive, sexy, fabulous, morally upright, one of the few great people left in this world -- I was the perfect wife, the perfect woman. So why didn't he want me to move nearer to him?

------
I thought I was going crazy, he loved me, but was elusive. He was so calm, so loving, so understanding, I was becoming a mess again -- but now I was a mess over him, and I had to hide it. I thought he knew everything about life, he taught me to stay in the moment. I had to be strong for him, he was lonely, misunderstood, had a horrible childhood, needed protecting, needed understanding, HE NEEDED MY UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. HE needed me to see him, to hear him. That yes, he was difficult, and yes, no one else could bear him as a lover for long,

BUT.... I ....was ....SPECIAL. Only I really understood him. And to his credit, at first he brought out the best in me...the me, I firmly believed, that could NOT reach without him by my side. NOw I was becoming his rescuer.

Down deep I knew I was sinking and going down fast. I was sinking lower than I was before I met him. If I could just do the right thing, find the right answer, than I could get us back to the place where we first fell in love. And all this up and down would be over.

Over those few years I wrote 20 songs, each one marking our troubles, our deep love, our thoughts. I , recorded 15 of them, and am currently finishing up the production for on an album that's coming out. Yes, I was ablaze with inspiration. EPIC. I even became a galleried photographer with his encouragement.

BUT

Without him, I truly, deeply KNEW, not felt, that I would surely wither and revert to the dark, black abyss of nightmares and depression where he had found and rescued me from.

PART 4: REACHING FOR HELP, REAL HELP

There was a voice inside my head, weak at first, but every time he insulted me, laughed at me, left me in the cold, failed to communicate for weeks, those times I was clear that I had to do something to free myself. I focused on this fantasy of how I WOULD LOVE TO BE. Free, light, not needy, not afraid, productive, tuned in to my kids, tuned in to life, be alone without him being my baseline, do something without being motivated by his approval. I couldn't fathom it becoming real...but I trusted that somewhere, someone MIGHT help me stop the pain of dreaming to be with him like we used to be in the beginning.

I was scared shitless. Why?
1) I had made the promise I would never tell and put him in peril
2) He forbade me to see a therapist.
3) What if I put my trust in a new therapist, then the therapist couldn't really help me, what if I would be even worse off than now?
4)What if the new therapist found out who he was, then told him and he called me crazy to protect himself and then she believed him and dismissed me?
5) No one really respects a "whistleblower"
6) What if people said, "well, you are an adult, you knew what you were getting into, it was consensual. And he has done so much for so many, he's helped thousands of people, what have you really done? He's a gifted healer, what are you?, And now you want to ruin all his work, make a parody of his life and his contributions?"
7) What if he told everyone I was lying?
8) IF I went to a new therapist, I would have to lie to him to keep him. If I lied to him, then I would be a liar. Not only did I hold too many secrets, now I was going to be a liar...to him. Or else I would have to tell him, even worse.
9)If I was cured, I would lose him forever....forever.....FOREVER. And then....what is on the other side for me? Will my months be filled with unending, unendurable loneliness. Would I be overcome with loss, grieving, deep sadness, darkness, and utter despair? Not a good switch .

BUT
I knew I couldn't go on hoping, reaching, reacting, crying, living secrets, debasing myself, needing nothing from him but wanting everything, trying hourly, but dying a little every day. I just wanted the pain, no matter the cause, to
JUST
STOP.

So, I found a new therapist. Not just any therapist, but one of his colleagues - a woman who had top notch morals, she was tough, and her therpay abilities were excellent. I told her my situation, not naming names. But she guessed, and I am was relieved. NOW There was no going back.

IT took over a year, it took hours and hours of hard painful work to let him go. I had to go back to my relationship to my father to actually heal from my original problems, to heal from him. She taught me how to handle my own triggers, on my own, to not be dependent on her. I grieved as if this lover, this ex-therapist were my one and only mate of a hundred years. It felt as if I was losing a part of me, I mean really like my heart was dying. But I had to lose him over and over during this therapy because he wasn't gone, he wasn't dead. The only thing keeping me from him was my own mind. He was there, I could reach out anytime.

When I was getting over him it was if I had grieved a death, but then I would resurrect him, because all I had to do was email him and he would meet me for an EPIC date, and then he would came back to life and all the pain would be gone, but then he'd be an ***. Then, then I would call my new therapist and metaphorically speaking, kill him again (so to speak) and again he died, then came back to life, then again he died...over and over. It was nothing like a ghost, it was like resurrection, rebirth, relief, new pain, and another death. It took 4 months of curtain calls. On the last day I ever saw him, that was a year ago. His last words to me were, "I miss you already, I can't wait to see you again." then He said, "Wait, I want to give you a something" He went to his bedroom took out a gorgeous indian shawl, put it lovingly around my shoulders and kissed me. " He said, "Call me soon, okay?"

YeaH, I knew it was the last time the entire day, he didn't. So at his last words I smiled. Kissed him back and left for my made up dinner date. It was a Saturday 5 pm. Why was I leaving so soon in the day after spending 50 fabulous, wonderful, amazing hours alone just with him, on the heels of 2 days earlier in the week? Oh, didn't I tell you? He had a date with his ex-wife that he hadn't really divorced because divorce was just a piece of paper. You see, she called and reminded him they had a dinner date (every Saturday), oh, and Friday he left while we were together to pick her up at the airport, he looked so sad because she didn't invite him....Well, you know, she's like a sister to him, they own a house in California together where they go off to for weeks and he has pictures on his cell phone of her cleavage of her in bed, but they are just friends, and well, the dinner was already planned, but he didn't mention it to me until 3 pm that day. The same old story. They use the same housekeeper, same gardners, same handyman, same dinners, they swap furniture like beds, they go to concerts together, she calls at 9 pm and he always answers, they share so many memories, even Valentine's day (the one where he was with me, she was out of town). Well..... **** him

...and so I wrapped the warm shawl around my arms, graciously said thank you, asked if it was mine to keep, and he hugged me and said it was made for me and only me. I smiled sweetly and drove away from him and his pack of lies. It was our last final, final day. And then all I hoped for was the strength to never see him again.

------

That day took me several years to get to. It was the hardest thing I ever have done and I COULD NEVER EVER have done it alone. I paid the new therapist a years worth of fees to get over him, thousands of dollars. She was worth every dime. But, Deep down I feel like he should have paid that fee back and added a generous tip. I sent him an email saying I wished I had never met him, that I regretted our relationship -- he told me I was lying to myself, that I had said all these other things about loving him forever. I told him that this therapist knew about him, that my now reconciled and recently emotionally functional husband knew about the affair as well. I told him that I would hold no secrets for him any longer. I told him I had been in horrible pain from the relationship, it was not a good thing. I wanted to hear from him that he was sorry that he hurt me. Well, he only said he was sorry THAT I was in so much pain.

In our relationship he was never forthcoming about his private private life, although wasn't I supposed to be his lover, confidante, best friend, why did I feel like I was one of 4 or 5? The marriage thing he talked about was a fantasy of his, and I realized he counted on the fact that I would never tell anyone about us. He never counted on me becoming well and strong and healthy -- and that is my greatest achievement to date. It's not the album, not the galleries. With emotional health comes greater and real connection with those we love, and to the world around us.

Not true for unhealthy dependence.

That sort of dependence is like hanging onto someone else while trying to keep afloat in a stormy ocean...you can only do it for so long before one or both of you collapse.

I just wanted to let you know I have been in your shoes and now exactly how you feel.

PART 5: BREATHING SOFTLY, EVENLY AND CALMLY

I am very happy to say, that because of the new therapist I was able to be free of him, free of the pain, free of the need, free of the wishing, free from secrets, free from my original pain of childhood. Now it is like I can breath on my own. The fog has lifted, the fear is behind me, I can think clearly again. I felt calm without reason, and courageous, and clear, and curious, and very, very happy nearly every day. I see why I was rescuing everyone around me, saw why I felt so responsible. I have learned not to manage everyone, but to listen with caring without having to fix. I mean, that's what most of my children want, they want to be heard, seen, accepted, understood and just loved. They can do the rest themselves or ask when they need something.

Those long years of being in love with him, needing him, making excuses for him, allowing any behavior, waiting for the dream... it was as if a monster had driven himself into my veins and poisoned my blood. When I would valiantly try to extract him the pain was more severe than the torment of being with him.

My advice tp any one in love with their therapist? Think to yourself how you would feel to be free of needing to be loved at any cost, of loneliness, of pain, of fear, of secrets. Not only to be free of negative emotions but what if you could have all the good stuff on your own? Pleasure at seeing a sunset, calmness, contentness, fullness of spirit. What if it didn't mean that to be emotionally well and independent, what if it actually led to more connection and more affection. What if a really good therapist could teach you to NOT be dependent on them, could teach you to handle triggers on your own?

If you find yourself in love with your therapist, sure tell him or her, but at the same time, independently seek another therapist to keep you seeing things correctly. Tell the new therapist your story, the new therapist has to be really good and very ethical.

A great type of therapy is IFS, Internal Family Systems, find it on YouTube. It works and a lot of therapist do Skype now.. It's the only method I experienced that seems to actually heal once and for all. And it heals quickly.

I recommend a therapist of the opposite gender of the therapist you are in love with. My first therapist was hooked into my deepest needs and fears, he grew tentacles into my pscyhe. Some people and even some therapists have narcissistic parts, that need and feed on your energy, even your sad energy and your sad stories. They seem strong, but like all of us have limits, loneliness, and pains of their own. The type that cross the line are usually men in their 50's, depressed, high achieving, at the top of their game or maybe a little passed it, they are drowning themselves, feel empty, lonely, and have the unfair advantage of knowing you inside and out, and they know exactly what you need.

A therapist is human, and might slip into loving you back without meaning too. They give you what everyone needs, love, caring, tenderness, empathy, affection, acceptance. But mix that with realized sex, and if you are vulnerable you will grab at it like oxygen, but your soul will sink down to the murky, still depths wrapped in golden silk, peacock feathers mixed with a little movie star charm --

but let me tell you, way down there, you can't see straight, and way down there there is no oxygen at all.

The end of this story is a good one. My husband has had intensive therapy for the last several years. He has hung on to our family and has become a really good, strong, healthy person. I don't know that I can ever really love him like a husband way down deep, but I respect that he has tried valiantly to make himself a good father, a good husband, and a real decent, caring human being. Now we all win, we have boundaries, and there are no secrets.

Thank you for sharing your story. I'm sorry to hear you had such an unethical therapist. There are thousands of ethical therapists but ones such as this do tend to put a dark cloth over the whole of it. I believe that this is a small percentage of licensed and professionally trained counselors, therapist, and/or psychologists.

Good to hear you have what everyone should expect: an ethical one.

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I agree with you. There are many therapists that I have met socially and have known of through my family members, it seems that this is not so common as I once thought. And my therapist is an amazing professional. I credit her for all her hard work and always doing the right thing for me.

So, in turn, I know exactly how you feel, and am sorry that you were or are in that situation. I hope all is well with you and that you are doing alright. It makes me sad to know that someone else was there.

I read a story about this poor patient in California that ended up stalking his therapist and shooting a gun into her bedroom bed while she wasn't home. It was all over their local newspapers at one time. The therapist kept him as her lover for 3 years and went away on vacations with her husband while living with her patient leaving him at home with chores to do, leaving apologetic notes why she didn't go with him, all the while she was already at the airport. The way she talked to him was exactly like this guy talked to me, calm and together. I could see into this patient's mind and back then, i worried that I could be potentially as loosely held together as he was. The mind is such a fragile thing. Thanks for telling me.

I just dont know what to say, other than, I hope one day I can be as brave as you. My therapist also has answers for everything I say and well.... I know he isnt clean of heart in all thats going on between me and him. My marriage has been damaged in a bad way because of all that has happened. Oh man... this is too much...

Thank you so much for sharing your story

BeenThere2 - what a journey and a life you have LIVED. Few live... and you have. I do not envy your pain. But perhaps do envy the "lived" part... if that makes any sense. I have loved before - someone I was not allowed to love. I would not trade the experience as a whole for twenty "healthy" lives :-)

I am sorry I didn't see your post sooner. When you are in this situation everything you are feeling is understandable. I am trying to think what someone could have said to me years ago so that I could have sidestepped those painful years of longing.

Well, I did try one therapist early on, a woman. The problem was that so many of the decent therapist in that town knew him, or worse, trained under him. It was like a minefield, because if I told he would have been turned in, so I had to make up another name and occupation for him.

BUT the only way to get over him was to tell another therapist the REAL story. But not so she would turn him in, so that she could figure out what made me susceptible to loving him in the first place. And then it turned out, she didn't have the ability to solve this very complex love-dependence I had. She thought she was just trying to address a normal love- co-dependence issue.

When you are in love with your therapist it can NOT be treated like a usual love addiction sort of thing. IT looks like that, but it is NOT that at all. I believe there should be therapist who specialize in this, and could address the issue with a patient with gentle compassion.

Further, I believe if a therapist knows you are in love with him/her, even on a gut level, he/she could continue seeing you, but perhaps ask another colleague to see you on the side to address that issue objectively and all by itself.

IT's a very complicated issue - but I think we should find answers to this very difficult situation and help all of those clients/patients deal with this very troubling, painful issue.

Like you, I don't regret the good parts, they were wonderful, but the time spent trying to release myself even when the pain became worse than the love, eventually overshadowed and poisoned all that was good.

You know, it's like this, imagine yourself with the bare minimum of food, hungry all of the time, living in a cramped overcrowded prison, You have lived there all of your life. You have somewhat gotten used to it. STill the conditions feel brutal, it's just horrible, the smells are horrific. but there is heat, and some daily gruel, and other prisoners to talk to. There isn't much light, but it's warm. You dream daily of being free of having as much room to run around as you would wish....and to fall in love.
Then this jailer talks to you daily, he feels sorry for you, it feels like he's the only real friend you have, he is very compassionate. And you know if he gets caught he'll be in trouble...so you feel special.

Then one day, he sets you free, and he hides you in this large empty cottage in the woods., its clean and large, but it's winter outside, so you wait alone for him to come for a few hours each day, and you are intimate every time.

But, You can never leave, you have no coat or shoes, and when he arrives and brings food and firewood and a soft bed roll with blankets, then it is heaven, and the intimacy is so wonderful. But only when he comes to see you is there food, heat, or sleep. He paints a picture that one day, you will be able to leave together, go out in the world, be free to have friends, a normal life, live the dream, have children, he'll says be around all of the time to make sure you have everything you need, to pamper you, etc.

But he begins to come less frequently, but always has a heartfelt, sincere, ready excuse. you are so dependent on him for everything, food, clothes, warmth. He brings gifts, beautiful summer clothes, buts still no coat, no shoes, he gives you no way to leave the house or him, and always takes you to bed to show you his "love." But now even that feels empty.

After awhile you don't even believe you can care for yourself. . And he's told you that the only other choice you have is here, or back in prison, and you firmly believe it. So you just lie there waiting for him to bring food, cook, logs for a fire. It doesn't smell here, it isn't crowded, no doors are locked, you are free to go, but you think you can't leave. Now the days are stretching into misery, you do anything when he comes to get him to stay, sex becomes obligatory, you have no choice how it goes anymore either.

but if you ask anything, or appear the least bit desperate he pushes you away and calls you names, he feels angry. But since you are so dependent, you will do anything, anything to get him to be okay and to take care of you again. And then he softens and feeds you, lights the fire, etc. He tells you that you are imagining all of these bad things. You believe him. Your entire focus is him and getting back to the point where he was so kind, so attentive, so giving.

But then, soon he rarely comes, and now when he does he brings less food, fewer logs, you are beside yourself, growing thinner, and paler, your eyes are hollow, sadness permeates your soul. You live like these 95% of the time now...waiting for years for things to improve, remembering the good days, accepting the excuses, doing whatever is asked of you, asking nothing for yourself. Now you realize he only comes to have sex with you and doesn't feed you anymore. you try to leave a few times, but the winter's cold is unbearable and when you get to road your feet are frozen, so you turn back.

The story worsens and worsens, but you have nightmares of the prisons, so you will do anything not to go back.

BUT is there another choice? Is it only prison or him? Is it? W

What if instead, the jailer freed you, taught you a skill, helped you believe in yourself with or without him, and took you to a town and showed you how to take care of yourself, make friends and have a good life....and maybe that life would include him, maybe not, but it would be okay and if not him, there would be someone else. And here in this town in your new life, you never felt lonely, or longing, or afraid -- a place where you feel confidant, your thoughts and feelings valued, where you felt appreciated, whole and at home.

Wouldn't that be a true gift of love, an act of caring, the act of a truly good man? You might need someone like this, and it feels like destined love, but it's you under someone else's dictatorial shadow.

What is love? Love is feeling like you are at home, even when he's not there.

Hi BeenThere2,

Sorry to hear all this, and I'm glad that you managed to climb out of the mess this therapist had created for you. I wondered, however, if you could do yourself and other future clients a favour and report him? You have been horrifically exploited by this narcissist. He caused you serious emotional and financial damage, and you are right saying that he owes you a year's worth of therapy fees (the year you needed to pay someone else to get over him) and the fees you paid him, on top of that. He needs to lose his licence. Good job you are still in one piece, by the way. This guy obviously has no place in this profession and needs to be stopped. In a few years' time it might not be possible to raise a legal complaint effectively. If he is still out there, happy and successful in the the future, I am sure you will regret not reporting him and feel that there is no justice in the world. It will feel bad to know he is still there, doing what he's always been doing, that you were his victim and you are powerless to do anything about this. Don't let him get away with it. Please do what you can to stop this guy: he really needs to disappear from the face of the psychotherapy profession (if not the earth). He is absolute scum, nothing more: don't be fooled by his books, his name, committees and charisma. Believe me, many future clients will be grateful to you, and you can be preventing a long line of future tragedies and a lot of distress!

Take care,
Oceanwave

Your writing is breathtaking....you descriptions evocative and amazing; ever written book, article or poetry?
www.soulpoetry.org is my site for my book, Sanctuary of the Soul

Been in love with my t for 6 years; too much stuff to gointo here.
I am SO proud of you.

I too have been in your shoes and can relate to all you wrote - I quit therapy to be with him - alot of details - only difference is I knew up front reg the wife and was never lied to or vaguely answered but your post makes me look at our entire situation in a new light.........much to think about here and I congratulate you on a very hard journey - I know, I am living it now.

Oceanwave,
That is interesting that you say that. My second therapist is getting together an ethical committee. She is actually very power in her field as well. She told me I could testify in any way I feel comfortable, ie, by video, letter, privately etc. I have a lot of evidence that I kept for the sake of remembering him, and I am glad I have kept it. She said without it he could just say, with professional clout,that I was unstable. But my current therapist said she would testify for me, and stand squarely with me. She is actuallly putting herself at professional risk. It's been very, very complicated. And you are right, and it's very, very scary to be in this position.

I would love to see your website and read your things. And thanks for the compliment, I have been going over and over this stuff in my mind for years. And I have all the lengthy emails we wrote, so I can go back and remember exactly how it was, and I can see the emails that were so full of pain, even when I don't feel it so much anymore.

AND all the songs that I recorded tell the story from beginning to end.
I am looking forward to seeing your writing.

Please keep in touch with me, and let me know how you are. One day you might tire of the yearning and wish for something else. THat's what I hung on to, that wishing how it could be if he just evaporated from my mind. Then I watched this movie:
"Eternal Sunshine of the Unspotted Mind" and I realized I had to change completely inside to get over him. Once I did, the amount of energy I had for other things was incredible. But I remember thinking I couldn't bear the cure sometimes. But my new therapist was right there. She never judged me for the curtain calls, she never made me feel I had been weak. She just helped me become independent and strong, even from her. She was extremely sensitive to the fact that I had already become so dependent on a therapist once before. AND she addressed that as well.

The first step is to wish for a life without him, even if it's just a whisper of an idea in you mind. Then fantasize over and over how you could be so happy and light in some other dimension of yourself....all in theory. That's the first step. And the second is find someone to help you.

I had a similar thing happen with my therapist. I am reporting him to the licensing board next week. I've hired an attorney to help me with the board hearing and also to try and get some of the money back that I paid to him. I saw him for almost 10 years. 10 years of craziness!!! Have you reported this man who did this to you yet? Please keep us updated.