Ynez's story of Abuse by a Therapist


I've chosen the pseudonym "Ynez" to tell you my story of betrayal. I was a victim of sexual abuse by a therapist, Dr. X, twelve years ago. Dr. X is an eminent clinical psychologist and has published several books which are widely read. The experience has had a profoundly negative impact on my life - one that is difficult to adequately describe in words. The emotions are so confusing and destructive. In particular, I have carried tremendous feelings of guilt and shame, along with an underlying belief that I was somehow "responsible" for what happened to me. I personally have had extensive training about the role and responsibility of therapists to "do no harm" and to recognize the immense vulnerability of patients who come to them for help. In particular, therapists are trained NOT to sexualize a "healing" relationship by manipulating and exploiting trust, vulnerability and fundamental human needs. You see, I am also a therapist. The fact that I was already a licensed mental health professional when the abuse occurred has greatly added to my suffering. I had the understanding of the ethics of the our profession, but that knowledge did not protect me or make me invulnerable. I trusted him completely and told him private things about myself that I would never confess to another living soul. Looking back, I see that Dr. X used the information that I gave him about myself to cultivate an increased dependency upon him. In essence, he was "grooming" me for sex and I was duped. I have tried to look back and understand what happened and how it happened. At what point did my "therapy" become corrupted? I cannot be objective - my thoughts and feelings about it are muddled, distressing, and insight is illusive. I cannot seem to separate his pathology from my own. Nor have I been able to accept the objectivity of other therapists that I sought help from after I left Dr. X. I no longer trust the members of my own profession, nor do I trust myself. There is a pervasive voice within that tells me that I am to blame, that I am "damaged goods", "seductive", "a fool", or someone who is "too needy", otherwise, how could I have let this happen? Why did I let it go on so long? The self-recriminations sit in my consciousness, like toxic waste, corroding how I feel about myself and others - even after all this time. I have told only a few intimate people what happened back then, as I have a lingering fear that others will condemn me. For the most part, those whom I have told have been understanding and supportive. Yet, I cannot really believe them, nor take in the compassion offered. Unfortunately, my story is not a unique one. There are many victims of this type of abuse, and the damage that follows in it's wake parallels that of incest or rape. In a strange way, though, that fact that there are so many others is the only hope I have that someday, I may eventually heal and become whole again. By talking to other victims (in private, on-line support groups) and by reading books and articles describing the accounts of other victims - I am struck by the similarity of our stories and struggles. The details may differ, but the aftermath (the excruciating feelings of shame, guilt, despair, hopelessness, mistrust, jadedness, self-loathing and anxiety) is the same for most of us. I am beginning to let go of the pain, and am learning to respect and trust myself (and others) again, but it is a very slow process. When I listen to other victims/survivors tell their stories and describe their anguish and confusion - I am able to feel so much compassion and understanding for them. They are very much like me. What happened to them, and how it happened - is hauntingly, disturbingly familiar. Yet somehow, I have not been able to shine the same light of understanding toward myself and set myself free. I do not feel hopeless, however. I can see that I am slowly beginning to forgive myself for something that was never my crime to own. I am responsible for getting stronger, though - and I am. Every time I reach out to others, the darkness lifts, just enough to feel some small change inside. One day, I will find my way back to myself - by gathering the tarnished pieces, cleansing them one by one, and placing them securely in my heart where they belong - safe from thieves. Part of the process of healing is telling others about the abuse and breaking down the walls of secrecy and fear. It is important to increase the level of understanding about this problem, which is actually, quite widespread. Research indicates that approximately 8 to 12% of health professionals sexually exploit at least one client/patient, and many are repeat offenders. Most of the offenders are males and most of the victims are females, which speaks to persistent and underlying social problems in the dynamics between men and women. However, some offenders are females and some male patients are victimized, as well. 90% of victims report that they suffer afterward, often severely. Sometimes the suffering is immediate, and sometimes it takes years before it surfaces in all of its ugliness. Many victims have severe mental and emotional problems after sexual abuse - problems they never had before they were exploited. Victims of "therapist-patient sex syndrome" often become depressed and consider suicide, and a small percentage of victims do end their lives. Before I entered therapy with Dr. X, I was mildly neurotic. After I left him, I was mentally ill. I became hopeless, despondent and suicidal. I felt morally, emotionally and spiritually bankrupt. It was like a soul rape. Twelve years later, I still have PTSD, bouts of depression and chronic insomnia. I also have some memory problems and difficulty with attention and staying focused. Sometimes, I feel numb and unable to "connect" with my life or with loved ones. There are days, even weeks when everything around me seems unreal and meaningless. I feel alienated from others and the loneliness is both painful, but strangely "safe". I have a tendency to startle easily if someone approaches me from behind and simply says "hello". My reaction appears terrified and is often unsettling to others. This is embarrassing to me because it obvious that "something" is wrong. I gained a lot of weight and went without sex for over 10 years. This made my husband a victim, too. Although I am better and have taken off the weight with diet and exercise, I still have problems with intimacy and sometimes experience it as extremely threatening. There are times when I believe that people who love me are trying to "hurt" or "humiliate" me, when they are not. It is insidious how the abuse continues to cause distress for myself and others. I find it hard to relax and seldom feel truly at peace. The word victim is difficult for me to embrace. I don't enjoy thinking of myself as a victim. I don't always trust my motives and worry that I am trying to get "undeserved sympathy". Some part of me does not trust that my instincts are reliable - after all, they did not serve me very well when I was exploited. I trusted Dr. X completely and told him everything about my personal self that was secret, anxiety-ridden, shameful, needy, confused, vulnerable, strong, admirable, etc. I held nothing back. I respected and admired him because I had read his books and thought he could help me. Instead, he used the private material I shared with him to create a dependency upon him and then he used me to gratify his needs. I was so confused as I watched myself spiral down into a dark void of mental illness, yet still, I felt that my life depended upon him and that only he could help me. It took a year for him to insinuate the necessary bewilderment, anxiety and depression that undermined my "self" to the extent that I would let a predator take advantage of me. Dr. X diagnosed me with an "attachment disorder" and said that my relationship with my mother was lacking in "connectedness". (In truth, I had a very warm and caring mother and developed a basic sense of trust from her). But since I believed that he was the "expert" and knew what was wrong with me, I began to doubt the basic foundation of my self and did not trust my own feelings or memories. Then he began to undermine and devalue my husband. I became more unstable. He told me that I was dependent, and that I needed him because I could trust him and he understood me. He systematically isolated me from my support system, both internal and external. He interpreted my problems and mirrored my emotions in such a manner that I became increasingly mentally ill. I did not trust myself - but I trusted him. After six months of therapy, I was increasingly depressed, anxious and became self destructive. Dr. X suggested that I see him twice weekly, and introduced hypnosis in the guise of EMDR as well as a form of seemingly benign "touch" therapy to help with my "attachment" problem. When he did EMDR, he sat very close to me and his leg lay alongside mine. Although I was not initially attracted to him, I began to have fantasies about him holding me and loving me. I longed to be loved and held, which he knew. I also began to have vivid dreams that were often very sexual and violent in nature. I dutifully wrote them down and gave them to him to "interpret". Now I realize that I was handing bullets to my own executioner, as he knew all of the secret fears and hidden desires of my inner world. He began by holding my hand, then progressed to holding me very close in full body hugs. He told me I was special, beautiful and that I deserved to be loved. He began to tell me about his personal problems, particularly his marital problems, and I became his confidant. He also told me that I was a "seductress" and that he "loved" me. I became obsessed with him and after one year of "therapy", it became overtly sexual. It lasted 7 - 8 months until I ended it. My process of recovery has been long, but has also taken some unexpected and wonderful turns. I lost the weight I gained and began to feel comfortable with my body again. I walk 15 - 20 miles per week and have regained most of my physical beauty and strength. I started taking horse-back riding lessons over one year ago. Horses are "prey animals" and I began to relate to them by developing empathy and respect for their instinctive wariness. Learning to ride skillfully, by sensing the way horses move and respond to their environment, led me to overcome fear as well as develop extraordinary feelings of tenderness toward these magnificent creatures. When riding, I feel connected to other vulnerable, yet beautiful, noble and powerful beings who have learned to survive by their instincts. I also have seven cats who love me unconditionally, and this has been healing, as well. My friends have loved me, stuck by me and have understood, as best they can. Talking to other survivors of professional abuse and exploitation has helped enormously. But most of all, my husband has been an incredible support to me and has been my greatest ally. I will end my story with a quote from The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini. (I wonder)...."if that was how forgiveness budded - not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up and slipping away, unannounced, in the middle of the night". Thanks for listening. Ynez

I've chosen the pseudonym "Ynez" to tell you my story of betrayal. I was a victim of sexual abuse by a therapist, Dr. X, twelve years ago. Dr. X is an eminent clinical psychologist and has published several books which are widely read. The experience has had a profoundly negative impact on my life - one that is difficult to adequately describe in words. The emotions are so confusing and destructive. In particular, I have carried tremendous feelings of guilt and shame, along with an underlying belief that I was somehow "responsible" for what happened to me.

I personally have had extensive training about the role and responsibility of therapists to "do no harm" and to recognize the immense vulnerability of patients who come to them for help. In particular, therapists are trained NOT to sexualize a "healing" relationship by manipulating and exploiting trust, vulnerability and fundamental human needs. You see, I am also a therapist. The fact that I was already a licensed mental health professional when the abuse occurred has greatly added to my suffering. I had the understanding of the ethics of the our profession, but that knowledge did not protect me or make me invulnerable. I trusted him completely and told him private things about myself that I would never confess to another living soul. Looking back, I see that Dr. X used the information that I gave him about myself to cultivate an increased dependency upon him. In essence, he was "grooming" me for sex and I was duped.

I have tried to look back and understand what happened and how it happened. At what point did my "therapy" become corrupted? I cannot be objective - my thoughts and feelings about it are muddled, distressing, and insight is illusive. I cannot seem to separate his pathology from my own. Nor have I been able to accept the objectivity of other therapists that I sought help from after I left Dr. X. I no longer trust the members of my own profession, nor do I trust myself. There is a pervasive voice within that tells me that I am to blame, that I am "damaged goods", "seductive", "a fool", or someone who is "too needy", otherwise, how could I have let this happen? Why did I let it go on so long? The self-recriminations sit in my consciousness, like toxic waste, corroding how I feel about myself and others - even after all this time. I have told only a few intimate people what happened back then, as I have a lingering fear that others will condemn me. For the most part, those whom I have told have been understanding and supportive. Yet, I cannot really believe them, nor take in the compassion offered.

Unfortunately, my story is not a unique one. There are many victims of this type of abuse, and the damage that follows in it's wake parallels that of incest or rape. In a strange way, though, that fact that there are so many others is the only hope I have that someday, I may eventually heal and become whole again. By talking to other victims (in private, on-line support groups) and by reading books and articles describing the accounts of other victims - I am struck by the similarity of our stories and struggles. The details may differ, but the aftermath (the excruciating feelings of shame, guilt, despair, hopelessness, mistrust, jadedness, self-loathing and anxiety) is the same for most of us.

I am beginning to let go of the pain, and am learning to respect and trust myself (and others) again, but it is a very slow process. When I listen to other victims/survivors tell their stories and describe their anguish and confusion - I am able to feel so much compassion and understanding for them. They are very much like me. What happened to them, and how it happened - is hauntingly, disturbingly familiar. Yet somehow, I have not been able to shine the same light of understanding toward myself and set myself free. I do not feel hopeless, however. I can see that I am slowly beginning to forgive myself for something that was never my crime to own. I am responsible for getting stronger, though - and I am. Every time I reach out to others, the darkness lifts, just enough to feel some small change inside. One day, I will find my way back to myself - by gathering the tarnished pieces, cleansing them one by one, and placing them securely in my heart where they belong - safe from thieves.

Part of the process of healing is telling others about the abuse and breaking down the walls of secrecy and fear. It is important to increase the level of understanding about this problem, which is actually, quite widespread. Research indicates that approximately 8 to 12% of health professionals sexually exploit at least one client/patient, and many are repeat offenders. Most of the offenders are males and most of the victims are females, which speaks to persistent and underlying social problems in the dynamics between men and women. However, some offenders are females and some male patients are victimized, as well. 90% of victims report that they suffer afterward, often severely. Sometimes the suffering is immediate, and sometimes it takes years before it surfaces in all of its ugliness. Many victims have severe mental and emotional problems after sexual abuse - problems they never had before they were exploited. Victims of "therapist-patient sex syndrome" often become depressed and consider suicide, and a small percentage of victims do end their lives.

Before I entered therapy with Dr. X, I was mildly neurotic. After I left him, I was mentally ill. I became hopeless, despondent and suicidal. I felt morally, emotionally and spiritually bankrupt. It was like a soul rape. Twelve years later, I still have PTSD, bouts of depression and chronic insomnia. I also have some memory problems and difficulty with attention and staying focused. Sometimes, I feel numb and unable to "connect" with my life or with loved ones. There are days, even weeks when everything around me seems unreal and meaningless. I feel alienated from others and the loneliness is both painful, but strangely "safe". I have a tendency to startle easily if someone approaches me from behind and simply says "hello". My reaction appears terrified and is often unsettling to others. This is embarrassing to me because it obvious that "something" is wrong. I gained a lot of weight and went without sex for over 10 years. This made my husband a victim, too. Although I am better and have taken off the weight with diet and exercise, I still have problems with intimacy and sometimes experience it as extremely threatening. There are times when I believe that people who love me are trying to "hurt" or "humiliate" me, when they are not. It is insidious how the abuse continues to cause distress for myself and others. I find it hard to relax and seldom feel truly at peace.

The word victim is difficult for me to embrace. I don't enjoy thinking of myself as a victim. I don't always trust my motives and worry that I am trying to get "undeserved sympathy". Some part of me does not trust that my instincts are reliable - after all, they did not serve me very well when I was exploited. I trusted Dr. X completely and told him everything about my personal self that was secret, anxiety-ridden, shameful, needy, confused, vulnerable, strong, admirable, etc. I held nothing back. I respected and admired him because I had read his books and thought he could help me. Instead, he used the private material I shared with him to create a dependency upon him and then he used me to gratify his needs. I was so confused as I watched myself spiral down into a dark void of mental illness, yet still, I felt that my life depended upon him and that only he could help me. It took a year for him to insinuate the necessary bewilderment, anxiety and depression that undermined my "self" to the extent that I would let a predator take advantage of me.

Dr. X diagnosed me with an "attachment disorder" and said that my relationship with my mother was lacking in "connectedness". (In truth, I had a very warm and caring mother and developed a basic sense of trust from her). But since I believed that he was the "expert" and knew what was wrong with me, I began to doubt the basic foundation of my self and did not trust my own feelings or memories. Then he began to undermine and devalue my husband. I became more unstable. He told me that I was dependent, and that I needed him because I could trust him and he understood me. He systematically isolated me from my support system, both internal and external. He interpreted my problems and mirrored my emotions in such a manner that I became increasingly mentally ill. I did not trust myself - but I trusted him.

After six months of therapy, I was increasingly depressed, anxious and became self destructive. Dr. X suggested that I see him twice weekly, and introduced hypnosis in the guise of EMDR as well as a form of seemingly benign "touch" therapy to help with my "attachment" problem. When he did EMDR, he sat very close to me and his leg lay alongside mine. Although I was not initially attracted to him, I began to have fantasies about him holding me and loving me. I longed to be loved and held, which he knew. I also began to have vivid dreams that were often very sexual and violent in nature. I dutifully wrote them down and gave them to him to "interpret". Now I realize that I was handing bullets to my own executioner, as he knew all of the secret fears and hidden desires of my inner world. He began by holding my hand, then progressed to holding me very close in full body hugs. He told me I was special, beautiful and that I deserved to be loved. He began to tell me about his personal problems, particularly his marital problems, and I became his confidant. He also told me that I was a "seductress" and that he "loved" me. I became obsessed with him and after one year of "therapy", it became overtly sexual. It lasted 7 - 8 months until I ended it.

My process of recovery has been long, but has also taken some unexpected and wonderful turns. I lost the weight I gained and began to feel comfortable with my body again. I walk 15 - 20 miles per week and have regained most of my physical beauty and strength. I started taking horse-back riding lessons over one year ago. Horses are "prey animals" and I began to relate to them by developing empathy and respect for their instinctive wariness. Learning to ride skillfully, by sensing the way horses move and respond to their environment, led me to overcome fear as well as develop extraordinary feelings of tenderness toward these magnificent creatures. When riding, I feel connected to other vulnerable, yet beautiful, noble and powerful beings who have learned to survive by their instincts. I also have seven cats who love me unconditionally, and this has been healing, as well. My friends have loved me, stuck by me and have understood, as best they can. Talking to other survivors of professional abuse and exploitation has helped enormously. But most of all, my husband has been an incredible support to me and has been my greatest ally.

I will end my story with a quote from The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini. (I wonder)...."if that was how forgiveness budded - not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up and slipping away, unannounced, in the middle of the night". Thanks for listening.

Ynez