You’ve got to dance with the one that brung ya…I have always liked that phrase.  To me, it is a reminder to do what is right even when others would suggest otherwise and to be loyal to those in my life who have helped me get where I am.

The reality of my life is that I got to where I am…a person having great adventures, happy, centered, feeling, and living every moment… because of all the things that have happened to me.  Take away any part and I wouldn’t be me.  I have spent a lot of time bemoaning things especially when I am at low points like when I am scared or lonely… but bemoaning and regrets are not only futile, they take away from my power to be who I think I am and that I want to be.  And that is my goal, to be the person I think I am.

One of the things that got me here is the loss of my marriage to someone who I loved with all my heart which was the catalyst for change, good change that brought me to where I am at this moment.  That path to change started with marriage therapy, it was the first dance that got me here.

I am not a big fan of the mental health care system even though I have several close friends who are therapists and I respect and appreciate what they do.  One of my major concerns is that there is too much power given to the therapist with the assumption that they will act with ethics but no policing of that system unless a client complains.  However there is little client education of boundaries and appropriate behavior so when the therapist crosses a boundary, the client takes it on trust that the therapist knows what they are doing, even if the situation feels icky and uncomfortable.  The trust required in the therapeutic relationship allows therapists to wield enormous psychological influence which, when handled correctly, produces the magic of positive change in people’s lives.  But when handled incorrectly can produce devastating results.  I know because it is what happened to me.

I trusted my marriage therapist with all my heart, way more than I should have ever trusted a service provider. I told him all of my secrets, things that I had never told any living person.  As a result, therapy was very successful for me, although not so much for my marriage.  I sent him daily journals via email, he said it helped make him a better therapist knowing all my thoughts.  I paid him even though he was still in graduate school and shouldn’t have accepted money.  When therapy “ended” when I moved to Seattle, I continued to communicate with him weekly and send him my journals.  A couple of months later, he moved to Seattle where we started riding mountain bikes, kayaking, skiing, I introduced him to my social group, I watched his dog every weekend, took him to dinner, he stored his stuff in my house and even stayed at my house.  In all of this, I paid for everything.   All the while I was still sending him my journals and telling him my problems. In my mind he was still my therapist.

We first crossed the major boundary the night before Thanksgiving in 2007 when we went out drinking and he got hammered. When I drove him home, we stayed up talking until after 3 am.  That started a three year “friendship”.  Multiple times I told him that it didn’t “feel” right, that I couldn’t separate the therapist from the “friend”.  He would assure me that it was all in my head.  And he was right, it was.  In my head, I knew it was wrong.  So I found another therapist to help me figure that out.  She reported him to the licensing board. The state of Washington found that I was an “isolated incident, unlikely to happen again” so he can keep his practice. End of story. Except that it wasn’t.

For me, the loss of this person who had been so instrumental to me, who I had trusted without question, was psychologically and emotionally one of the most devastating ordeals of my life. I almost didn’t make it.  It was with the help of a bunch of people from an online bike forum that I found my voice and my power again. I can never repay what they gave me, freely, without knowing me or expecting anything from me in return.

Needless to say, there have been some huge violations of trust for me from the mental health community. So what I am about to do scares the absolute daylights out of me.  I have realized that, although I have the best life ever, there are a couple of areas that I could work on to make it even better. And I need some help with that.  So I am leaping…I made an appointment and I am going back to therapy.  This time, I am armed with knowledge of what therapy should and should not be. This time, I am going to therapy from a position of strength, not in a moment of weakness. I won’t allow myself to be preyed upon because I am not the same person anymore (thanks Matt for the reminder). It is time I learn how to trust again.

And so I am dancing… with the one that brung me… not the former exploitative therapist, but with the mental health care profession in general. I am taking the risk to be able to have the life I want.  My goal is to be the person that I believe I am.