Have you ever thought you were your therapist’s therapist? This happened to me in 2008. Beware!

I’m not sure how often this happens nowadays. My guess is that private practice therapists do it more, since ones that work for clinics and institutions get more supervision. But working for a large institution means the hierarchy makes for more workplace stress.

This woman had a day job working for a hospital. Her private practice was at home. She’d work hard all day then come home and see three or four patients. I know her hospital position paid well, as she was one of the top dogs there. She didn’t need that private practice. I think it was too much for her.

Our first session was decent. You guys know how it is, when a therapist puts on their best show during that first session. My previous one was leaving and while you could say I “chose” to see this next one, I didn’t really. My previous therapist referred me to the only two she could find, and one said no before she ever met me. So I went with the one I was left with. I wasn’t worried. I had no reason to do so. I was glad to be switching after five years with the other one going nowhere.

As I said, the first session with G was fine. Then, once I was stuck with her, I noticed she was completely self-absorbed. I don’t know how else to put it. During the second session I tried to tell her something I felt emotional about, and immediately she told me a long story about her grandmother. Okay…..I didn’t see the point of what she was saying. There wasn’t one. But I let it slide.

Next thing I knew, G was sharing all sorts of details about her nieces with me. I sat there and listened politely. I asked myself if this was really therapy. I’d say starting the third session, she began to nod off during the appointment. I’d had another therapist who slept through our sessions as well. But there was a difference.  Elsa Ronningstam, at McLean, whom I’d seen from 1995 till maybe the end of 1996, literally fell asleep right before me. Her head tilted to the side. Her eyes were closed and I watched as occasionally her head bobbed awake, then she’d fall back asleep. She simply couldn’t stay awake, despite that coffee she always brought in with her. I didn’t like smelling the coffee when she wasn’t even offering me any. I recall the ring that coffee mug made on the saucer. I told myself I didn’t want coffee with cream in it anyway because it was too fattening. I receive no therapy from that woman. But back then I had little choice, because Ronningstam was one of the few who had openings (wonder why?).

G didn’t nod off the same way. She never fell completely asleep the way Ronningstam did. I’d watch G’s head fall to the side, then, rather quickly, she’d jerk it up again. If I had to count how many times per session this occurred, I’d say at least once per minute for most of the hour, almost always happening while I was speaking. I finally confronted her about it. She apologized and said her day job had been busy. I told her to go get coffee. She did. I’ll give G credit for offering me some, too. Another time I confronted her about falling asleep, she said, rather sleepily, that it was hard to stay interested in what I was saying.

I figured maybe she needed to talk. She sure did! She related confidential information about her other patients to  me, both hospital patients and those she saw in her home practice. I told her I found this offensive, and also it wasn’t ethical, never mind legal. She promised to stop, but kept right at it again in the next session.

I don’t know why, but I don’t particularly feel upset about all that happened. I believe G had a good heart and good intentions. Her mind wasn’t on her job, that’s for sure. Also, she injured her knee during all this, had surgery, and then told me the surgery hadn’t gone well. She could barely walk before the surgery, nor after. She was super overweight, too, and complained about that to me as well. Then, she followed this with more yapping about her nieces. Perhaps her life was a mess, but I was tired of being her therapist.

I was shocked the day she told me a long song and dance about a former patient. She said the patient had died. I watched in disbelief as she began to shed tears. What was I supposed to do then? Hand her Kleenex? The patient had died of cancer. I was sure glad it wasn’t suicide.

It all would have been fine if she were my friend, but no, she was a bona fide social worker and my insurance was paying her to “treat” me. One thing about this ordeal was that when she took me on, she saw me as an “easy” patient, someone with good attendance who wasn’t going to make things messy for her. My attendance began to slide, however, as the months wore on. I don’t blame myself for that. Why wasn’t she paying me?

I recall speaking to therapist friends about how they liked having “easy” patients who wouldn’t turn into management jobs. They didn’t like the management part, they wanted to do hard core therapy. That would be using their training to the fullest extent, they explained. One person told me that being asked to do management was an insult, and she was looking for a new job. That seemed understandable to me. But honestly, I think G took me on because she didn’t want to work. Or so she saw it.

I knew she was capable of being a strong advocate when she felt the urge. However, she never listened to me. Why listen to an “easy” patient who should be “maintained” only?

I figured much the same. I couldn’t stand the sessions anymore, but I told myself, “I will put up with this. No harm in it. It doesn’t matter. I guess I’ll ride this out.”

That may have gone on indefinitely. G never said a word when Dr. Pearson rather arbitrarily put me back on Lithium. This was 2008. I had no clue about the damages already done by Lithium. However, I didn’t react well, and couldn’t tolerate even the lowest dose. I told Dr. P over and over that something wasn’t right, but she insisted I had to take Lithium otherwise I’d be “unstable.” That was her favorite buzzword, using fear tactics, telling me I’d end up manic if I didn’t obey.

G sat by and said nothing the whole time. Did she notice or care? I doubt it, since she was too busy talking about those kiddies of hers. Once, she told me all the details of a court case she’d been involved in. I wonder if I can find it all online.

Apparently Newton-Wellesley has had a LOT of trouble. This isn’t the case, but you can see:


I found another case. I’m not posting it. I knew the guy.

Here’s another: http://www.ripoffreport.com/r/Roberta-Brucker-Newton-Wellesley-Hospital/Newton-Massachusetts-02462/Roberta-Brucker-Newton-Wellesley-Hospital-Healthy-patient-forced-into-acute-psych-ward-aft-232118

I remember the staff this woman mentions. I recall Roberta and a few others. Am I surprised this happened to her? Absolutely not. It happens all the time. Only when I was in there, I figured patients who called attorneys were “delusional.” Why? because the staff told us so. Ah, compliance….

I still haven’t found that historic case G mentioned. The links that follow are other Newton-Wellesley lawsuits.

I found this, but it’s more recent: http://www.ripoffreport.com/r/Roberta-Brucker-Newton-Wellesley-Hospital/Newton-Massachusetts-02462/Roberta-Brucker-Newton-Wellesley-Hospital-Healthy-patient-forced-into-acute-psych-ward-aft-232118

I can tell you Riverside wasn’t serving Newton very well. I went there for a bit.

Okay, I still haven’t found it, but those of you in the Boston area might find this interesting:


I guess I won’t find that case that G told me about. Here’s an excerpt regarding Sylvia Plath. Of interest.


All this time I assumed it had gotten out into the open. Meanwhile, I’m privy to the info, courtesy G.

In short, this was a case of misdiagnosis. This patient was labeled a whiner and complainer, told what he had was trivial. She WANTED to be hospitalized. Nope, they told her she couldn’t stay, claiming borderline-type dependency. I don’t even think she made it home. I repeat, she clearly told them what was going on. They called her a complainer. I ask if the dismissive attitude of Newton-Wellesley Hospital staff propelled her to actually commit suicide. G told me, “They made a wrong assumption about her. Once a patient is labeled borderline, the staff stop listening.” The family won the case, but that didn’t bring back their daughter.

Either way, I couldn’t find the case. I highly doubt G made it up. Yeah, she was sleepy, but not a person who exaggerated.

Finally, I quit seeing G. I told her I was fed up. While I was preparing to leave, G said, “Oh, but there are so many more things about myself that I have yet to tell you.” These aren’t the exact words. I’d have to think back and recall…but I’m tired now. Shall I nod off?

This was the therapist who apparently was asleep when I told her I’d been raped. She never took notes, and I doubt there were any after that first session. I phoned G in 2009 or maybe 2010. I informed her she didn’t notice when I was raped. I didn’t accuse. I was calling for another reason. She claimed she had destroyed all records of me. I doubt she had any to begin with.

I suppose all this passed her by. The fact that she ignored that I had been raped caused Dr. Pearson, my psychiatrist, to assume it was “nothing.” I recall my argument with her over the lithium, and the fact that she literally lost it when she heard I’d fired G. After that, every time I mentioned the rape to Dr. P, she appeared entirely indifferent. She gave me a blank look, or even changed the subject.

Like it  had never happened.

So do you see how all this spiraled into a witch hunt after six years of not being listened to, assumptions that I was fabricating all that had occurred? This is the story of something that never should have happened, but did. I was that “easy  patient,” that completely compliant case, that ended up all wrong. I am so glad i broke free.


Instructions to rapists and other abusers

Dear rapists and abusers,

So you are in the business of ruining people’s lives? Take some tips from me. I have been raped, so I know a few tips, known only to “insiders.” Really, I should be charging people some fee to access this valuable information.

So, rapists and abusers, if you really have the need to dominate, you need to pick your victim wisely.

Do not rape the president. Do not rape the pope. Do not rape someone who has lots of money cuz if you get nailed, the person can afford to hire the ritziest lawyer in town who has an “in” with the local judge.

A better victim would be females, but a male will do in a pinch. See to it that you are with this person alone. If you find her in a bar, get her to a place where you are alone with her.

Don’t rape a cop. Stay away from the martial arts instructor. If your victim has a gun on her, she might use it on you. You don’t want to be shot, do you? Let’s keep this as cozy and uncomplicated as possible.

If witnesses suddenly appear, it’s just a date, right? Act all nice and gentleman-like till they are outa sight. Then, you can get on with the business.

Find a bar that’s overheated. She might have taken off a few layers, trying to cool off. So what’s she got underneath? Pick a woman who is dressed provocatively, or in some manner that shows what’s underneath. That way, if she nails you afterward, she’ll be the one blamed, and you will go free.

Find someone weaker than you. Females, children, handicapped, elderly. If she’s already on drugs of any kind, this will be used against her in court.

People known to be mental patients are great targets. Who will believe a mental patient? The cops won’t even investigate. You will be free to rape again.

If a person known to be a mental patient shows up at an ER saying she’s been raped, chances are she’ll get thrown into a psych ward, and they’ll call her delusional. You won’t even hear from a cop or a judge.

Don’t even worry about damages, such as trauma. Now, the psychiatric people have pills for PTSD, as they call it. Pills for nightmares, pills for hyper-vigilance and pills for flashbacks. So your victim will be fine. You won’t have to worry about what you did. It’s curable! What miraculous pharmaceuticals!

If you rape a known mental patient using a date rape pill, leave her unconscious and don’t worry. When she’s picked up, she’ll be accused of a suicide attempt. She’ll deny it, but since so many suicide attempt survivors get the label “lacks insight into condition,” no one will take her seriously.

For the rest of her life.

Yep, that’s what you did. She’s labeled and blacklisted. Even her family hates her now because after all, the doctor said she’s crazy. If you are lucky, the victim will get locked into a state institution. Don’t worry, what you did will be forgotten or ignored, or she’ll be told “it’s trivial” and to shut up.

She’ll be told to focus on “treatment” and not the trauma. She’ll be told to speak of what REALLY happened will upset other patients. That’s called “triggering.” It’s psychobabble, but most victims fall for it and go silent and compliant. She’ll be told all about “mindfulness,” or staying in the present only. This is to your advantage because she will start mentally slapping herself every time she thinks of the trauma, or relives it.

If you are a person of prestige, and she isn’t, of course it’s to your advantage. So if you are a doctor or therapist, you can say the abuse was “part of the treatment.” Since psych diagnoses can be given without any proof, you can lie and say she was your patient who was highly psychotic.

She might wish she could nail you for what you did, but as soon as she mentions it to anyone they will tell her she’s got “anger issues.” That’s an psychiatric illness, by the way. For that, more pills, more therapy, whatever’s trendy. The more doped up they make her, the better for you, rapist.

I wouldn’t suggest killing your victim. I know, this will ensure she won’t talk. But killing is messy and you are bound to get caught. Keep her alive instead and continue to torture her to keep her silent. No one likes a dead body. After all, a body is evidence.

Please pay me for this advice on your way out. Your 50 minutes are up.


Hmm…maybe I should have said, “Don’t rape,” eh? Oh well. He’s left now, out there getting his rocks off.

Truth disclosed about persecution of a 56-year-old woman in Watertown, Massachusetts

My original plan was to print out this document and to leave it stashed in my freezer. I wrote it in May. That’s the freezer where I so carefully stored Puzzle’s meat that I cooked for her every day to make delicious homemade meals, at Woodland Towers.

We aren’t there. We haven’t been there for a long time. I had to abandon many belongings.  Eventually, they’ll figure out I’m gone.  Someone will go in there.  If I were to leave this note in the fridge it would be found much sooner.  Truth was, I was really medically sick when I departed, in a frightful state, and had no time to think to leave any sort of “note.”

Here it is, copied and pasted:


I was raped by my neighbor on March 25, 2008. Here’s what happened afterward…..

1. I tried to tell my therapist, Goldie Eder, what happened, but she ignored what I told her. She wasn’t a good therapist.
2. I tried to go to an ER (Mount Auburn) but was misdiagnosed with the “common cold” and sent home.
3. When I fired my therapist, and ended my treatment with her, my psychiatrist, Dr. Kimberly Pearson at Mass General literally yelled at me over the phone and told me I had bad judgment.
4. A local mental health crisis team heard my psychiatrist yelling through the phone and all the way across the room.
5. I found out about a local organization, called BARCC, that helps people who have been raped. I went to this organization.
6. I was advised to move away from my neighbor, who had raped me, especially since he was continuing to assault me.
7. I moved a few blocks away because the Housing Authority, by coincidence, was moving their tenants around anyway due to construction work being done on my building. The Housing Authority had no clue I’d been raped.
8. It turned out that this building I moved to is run down and barely livable. I have had to fight to get my basic needs met, such as access to hot water for a shower.
9. The neighbors were hostile to me for no reason ever since the day I moved in, so I never made friends there.
10. My physical health began to deteriorate. I lost weight and suffered from anorexia nervosa. Still, I managed to finish graduate school in July 2009.
11. About ten of my friends decided they didn’t want to be friends with someone who was a lot skinnier than they were (I think they found this intolerable), so they kicked me out of their group. Because of what they did, I felt disappointed in humanity. My attitude became pessimistic.
12. I had a decent therapist for a short while but she got laid off. The next one, Maria Mellano, turned out to be a controlling abuser who should by all means not be practicing psychotherapy.
13. In December 2010, I broke a tooth during a binge eating episode, and to treat my broken tooth, Maria Mellano sent me to a psychiatric ER at Mass General, and from there, I was sent to McLean Hospital for three weeks.
14. McLean told me my toothache was “all in my head.” They gave me new drugs. The worst of these was Trileptal. It took me months to figure out that this drug had caused me to have trouble with balance (from ataxia) and caused me to become so confused I could barely manage.
15. My two best friends decided not to be friends anymore. I didn’t think I’d ever get over the extreme loneliness I felt. To make things worse, many people then told me I had brought this upon myself.
16. My therapist continued to bully me. Bad therapy is far worse than no therapy at all.
17. By summer 2011, my weight dropped dangerously low. I was put into Mass General, suffering from dehydration and slow heartbeat.
18. The hospital abused me. There were multiple abuses. Mass General broke the law, and violated my basic privacy. They even refused to give me a drink of water. When they found out that I was blogging about their abuse, they lied to Dr. Pearson and told her there was a medical reason for the water restriction, however, this was untrue. I was a caged animal there.
19. My so-called friends said that I was “sick” to blame Mass General. They claimed that it wasn’t possible for a hospital to be wrong or to mistreat someone. However, I have since learned that I am not the only one who was abused in hospitals!
20. Both Mellano and Dr. Pearson denied that I had been abused. I would think that most mental health professionals would at least be supportive. I noticed my personality was changing as a result of the continuing, ongoing devaluation and subsequent lack of support.
21. I went to another hospital, Walden, to “recover” from my experience at Mass General. However, the doctor there said I needed to be incarcerated in the state hospital! Why? Because I refuse to shut up about what was done to me? I managed to get home again.
22. I joined a church, First Parish of Watertown, thinking I might find support there. I began to attend church every Sunday and get involved in events.
23. I tried to make friends at church but every friendship flopped. I had no clue why. It seemed that many church members wouldn’t even give me a chance, because it was known that I had a mental illness.
24. Maria Mellano threatened me every time I saw her and accused me of behaviors I did not do.
25. In February, I was locked up at Walden’s eating disorders unit, Alcott. It was then that I realized that “mental health care” was doing me no good. I made the decision to leave my therapist, Maria Mellano, and devoted my life from then on to helping other sufferers of eating disorders. I continued to see the psychiatrist, Dr. Pearson.
26. I lived in social isolation. No one called or visited and I rarely went out except to walk my dog, Puzzle. I was shocked when I realized that no one really cared about me. I never spent time with other people and was entirely alone. Why was this happening?
27. I made hundreds of calls trying to find “help.” I was turned down by therapists and treatment centers, every single one.
28. I was still suffering the consequences of having taken an antidepressant, Imipramine, and withdrawal of that drug.  Over the years I had been given so many drugs, multiple antipsychotic drugs I never needed and mood stabilizers as well. This irresponsible polypharmacy has left me with the inability to sleep.  I only had an eating disorder and no mental illness at all.
29. In 2012 I had a caring student acupuncturist. She and her supervisor encouraged me to go to police and report the rape, even though four years had passed.
29. However, because I couldn’t stop binge eating, and because I couldn’t get any help and very few people truly cared anymore, I made secret plans to kill myself.
30. I followed through with what I had promised my acupuncturist, and went to police to report the rape, even though I knew I was going to die anyway. It was rather strange talking to them, knowing that should this report go anywhere, I wouldn’t be alive to see the results. However, I felt that I was helping others, possibly preventing Cahill from assaulting further.
31. It was clear to me, though, by the response of Watertown Police that nothing would be done about my report even though I stated that Robert Cahill posed a threat to other tenants where he lived. The police stated that I had no physical proof that I had been raped. I realize now that the police only saw me as a crazy lady who was crying wolf. Not true. That man raped me and on other occasions, assaulted me. I felt as though I had no voice.
32. I was on my way to London. My CBFS state worker called me on my cell to inform me that as soon as I returned to this country, her boss would be coming with her at her next visit. I realized that the state workers wanted me hospitalized and silenced because I had complained about the poor quality of Edinburg CBFS services. I had threatened my worker’s boss, Phil Moncreiff, head of Team 2, that I would report his obvious negligence to the DMH. I knew he wanted to stop me.
33. On the day I was to kill myself in London via overdose, I filmed myself and showed the camera the pills I was going to take. I accidentally fell asleep. Then, it was too late to taking the pills. Bad timing caused me to change my plans and instead of dying, I went home on the plane, back to Boston. Upon arrival, I felt only glad to see my dog again.  I didn’t want to see humans.
34. Unfortunately, CBFS did send me to the hospital, however, they had been unaware of my suicide plan. I was hospitalized at Walden Behavioral Care’s Alcott unit for eating disorders. I was never really sure why they sent me to the hospital except perhaps to keep me quiet.
35. The care at Walden seemed pointless. They didn’t know anything about binge eating. They never listened even though I tried to tell them about my narrow miss with suicide.  They walked away from me each time I asked them to listen.
36. I was shocked that after I had struggled with an eating disorder, anorexia and binge eating, now for 32 years, and had never been able to get humane care for it. For decades I never found anyone with knowledge, and the only find out there specifically for eating disorders involved cruelty and force, not compassion. I asked to leave and told myself I would never go back.
37. After I got home I tried to tell Dr. Pearson about the poor quality of care at Walden, but she decided that my reports of uncaring staff were surely untrue. She said I must be delusional and paranoid. Of course, everything I said was correct, not paranoia at all. However, I was beginning to notice that Dr. Pearson accused me of paranoia every single time I complained of irresponsible, negligent, or abusive staff or therapists. She had given me antipsychotic medication, thinking this drug would erase my “paranoid thoughts” about abuse. However, the abuse really happened. Instead of being supportive and helpful, Dr. Pearson ignored abuse. Providers are supposed to report these things!
38. I went along with the drugging for a time, then stopped the Abilify. It was worsening the insomnia I already had due to my eating disorder. Abilify was not going to erase abuse!
39. The following March 2013, I went to a therapist named David Alpert. He told me I wasn’t paranoid. However, he tried to ask me out on a date on our third session, and also he acted in many other irresponsible ways, and lacked any knowledge about eating disorders, so I fired him.
40. Dr. Pearson yelled at me for firing David Alpert and she accused me of being delusional.  Again, Dr. Pearson shouldn’t have ignored my report of abuse.
41. I went on a rampage. I ate nothing around the time of the 2013 Marathon bombing. Then, I binged for four days straight. I gained 30 pounds in those four days. I feared that I was in medical danger. My doctors had been deceptive with me and not told me my kidneys were functioning under 40%. When I saw I had so much swelling in my body, I tried to ask for help and at least get my blood tested. Lindsay Brady at the Multi-Service Eating Disorders Association attempted to phone my primary care physician, Dr. Marian Klepser, as well as Dr. Pearson, on my behalf, trying to advocate for me. Lindsay said these two doctors were not returning her calls. I felt betrayed.
42. I was desperate to lose the weight I’d gained. I ate very little for the next few months. No one cared about me anymore. Some tried to tell me to go to therapy. That wasn’t caring. That was “doing their duty.” The church members rarely called me back when I called them. I wanted friendship, not therapy. Why did they not care?  Why were these people keeping themselves so distant?
43. I lost a lot of weight and finally dropped under 90. I kept losing. I reached close to 80 at the beginning of August.
44. August 12, 2013, I weighed 78 pounds and went into kidney failure. I was 55 years old. I was a full code in the Mount Auburn Hospital ER.
45. Everything after that went all wrong. Dr. Bibek Koirala contacted Dr. Pearson. I’m sure Dr. Pearson warned them I was a “liability case” because I had spoken out about abuse. Why did Dr. Pearson not even care about me as a human being after I had almost died?  I later learned that this was the only thing Dr. Pearson told them. She hadn’t told them any vital information about me that would have helped me medically, for instance, about the medications that I’d had bad reactions to in the past. I tried to tell the hospital staff myself but they cut me off and were rude to me.
46. Mount Auburn staff destroyed my spirit. The abuses are too numerous to list here. I have been listing these over and over in my blog for months. I cried and cried for months. I suffered post-traumatic stress.  There were so many lost friendships over this.
47. While I was incarcerated at Mount Auburn, someone, probably the police, conducted an illegal search of my apartment.
48. After I got home from Mount Auburn, I cried alone for a month, traumatized by their abuse. No one called me, and many told me how disgusted they were and called me “ungrateful.” My church turned against me because I put in a legal claim. I also reported Mass General from 2011. In November, the Disability Law Center finally got back to me.
49. I realized in September that the church minister, Mark Harris, never even liked me in the first place. He badmouthed many people right in his sermons, even though he edits these remarks out before the sermons go online. I gave up on church. I ended CBFS because they had acted irresponsibly and had not provided anything helpful.
50. Over the next few months, I noticed the medical care given by my current new providers was poor quality. I felt on an assembly line and vowed I’d get out of Harvard Vanguard. I tried to see other doctors, but each time, I was profiled because of past association with the mental health system. I realized I was going to have to move away from here and start my whole life over if I was going to survive at all.
51. I found new friends, others who had been abused either in hospitals or by mental health practitioners. I attend meetings and protests and I continue to write to try to help others.
52. I have been suffering a severe, long-standing “post-trauma” reaction to what happened to me at Mount Auburn. I appear fearful and angry, and I snap at people easily. I feel terrified of sirens, police uniforms, and the proximity of a hospital building. I live in constant fear of the police appearing at my door and taking me away against my will, to be locked up and abused again.
53. There is no excuse for abuse. When people justify what was done to me they invalidate me and insult me. I can no longer tolerate this dismissive attitude.
54. After Mark Harris wrote something in our January church newsletter that was discriminatory against folks with mental illness, I contacted the UUA office in Boston in a private e-mail that revealed many other things I’d seen and heard at church that I felt were discriminatory.
55. On January 10th, 2014, two church members came to my home with a member of the police force (Melissa) and they tried to accuse me of planning to kill Mark Harris. I told them I wasn’t planning this and that their accusations were completely unfounded, in fact, so ridiculous that I nearly laughed. I told them I felt discriminated against by their accusations, and that they would never do this to someone who didn’t have a known psychiatric diagnosis. They had barged through the front door and into the building without ringing my buzzer. The church members told me I could come back to church but I would be restricted, censored, and silenced. I told them that I should be respected as a writer with something to give society, instead of being always seen as “needy.”
56. What the church did to me by coming to my home and wrongly accusing me was a hate crime. Were they trying to get me locked up again just for speaking the truth? I wondered, alternately, if I had gotten Mark into trouble by writing to the UUA.  I had mentioned other church members in this private e-mail, others with mental illness diagnosis that I felt had been discriminated against, including Rachel Ann Klein.  The church people seemed desperate to shut me up.
57. I noticed that a number of times I saw church members on the street and in stores,but they deliberately avoided me. It felt like that was the last straw.  I made several arrangements to move away, and each time, my plans fell through.
58. I tried to at least leave this building and transfer down the street. My next-door neighbor played her TV too loudly, all day long, and I could not stand the constant noise. She was an elderly, hearing-impaired lady, and her son was a Watertown first responder, I happened to know.  It was sad that he was clearly neglecting her.  Even my request to transfer was denied, put off, excuses made.
59. I suppose the most devastating thing of all is that my two brothers, Phil and Ned, raised their families without their Auntie Julie. Phil lived only an hour away for decades, and I never saw him or his family. This broke my heart. These two brothers, whom I loved so much in our childhood, are now awaiting big money they are trying to get from our mom. They’ve put our mom into an institution.
60. I am 56 years old. I am short and thin, and I wear glasses, the same as when I was a kid. I have a lovely dog. I did nothing wrong. I was raped. I was abused in hospitals and by my therapist. I chose to speak out and to write in my blog about what happened. None of these things are crimes. And yet, my community has nearly destroyed me.
61. Since the summer, my kidney function has been around 30%. I believe much of the damage prior to the summer was from lithium, which I took for 16 years. I now suffer from anemia and constant fatigue. I wish I never turned to the mental health system for help with my eating disorder. It was a mistake, a wrong road taken. I feel like over three decades of my life were stolen from me. I started off as a talented student composer, and now, I feel like I’ve been swindled.
62. Cahill was honored. The police who ignored what I told them are hailed as community heroes of Watertown Strong. The doctors and therapists and other personnel who destroyed my life are continuing to live cushy lives. Why are perps glorified? Why are victims treated like unworthy criminals, denied basic needs, forced into the fringe of society?
63. It was always my intention to speak out to prevent others from having to endure the abuses I experienced, particularly what’s now known as psychiatric abuse. Instead, I ended up hated in my community.  I knew if I stuck around, I would not survive given the amount of prejudice I was dealing with. It looked like those accusing me had been working very hard to retaliate and ruin my life, except for Cahill, who died last year.
64. My plane left Logan Airport May 13, 2014. Rachel Ann Klein died May 23, 2014.  I have stated that Rachel died because people in the community did not love her enough. The people of the community turned their backs on a person like me who was suffering.
65. I won’t be back.  Puzzle and I did what we had to do to remain alive and together and free.


My motto: Never, ever shut up.
Julie Greene and Puzzle
My blog: Juliemadblogger on WordPress.
First Written early May, 2014.  Modified.
copies to be sent to the media.  Or that was my original intent.

What do you do if you are raped or assaulted and then are told, “You are mentally sick.”

I would suggest immediately leaving the situation or “therapist” that claims you are sick.  You maty have a broken bone or sexually transmitted disease or bruises, or other physical ailment that needs to heal. You may be traumatized. This is a normal fear reaction.  But never allow a so-called “mental health professional” or anyone else (police included) to try to convince you that the rape was trivial or never occurred or that you should not legally pursue it.  A doctor should not ignore abuse.  However, many sweep these “complaints” under the rug or are too busy to pay attention to their patients.

I would suggest immediately going elsewhere.  If you are being called “crazy,” for reporting that you were raped,


because to stay is just as harmful as staying with the perpetrator.

Excuses we are told when we try to report abuse

Have you ever reported abuse? What excuse were YOU given for having to undergo such trauma, and for NOTHING to be done about what happened?

1) Your story isn’t credible. You don’t have enough cold hard evidence. Therefore, it’s not possible that it even happened, and we are going to assume that you are inventing the whole thing. We see no reason to pursue.
2) It was done for your own good, and the abuser was “just doing his job” to protect you and give you “care.”
3) You were misbehaving or acting out of line. Therefore, anything inhumane done to you is entirely justified within the Institution.
4) There were no witnesses. Therefore, it couldn’t possibly have happened.
5) When you reported the abuse, you approached the wrong person, and now, the statute of limitations is up. Therefore, the abuse never happened, and your trauma is nonexistent.
6) You are too poor to get a lawyer, therefore, we won’t pursue if you try to report the abuse. What’s the point?
7) You are a sick person with mental issues, therefore, nothing you say is credible. You don’t stand a chance, and the Institution and its personnel can do anything they damn please.
8) You were drugged, therefore, your perceptions may have been off. Probably, you imagined it.
9) You are a child and deserved what happened. Children don’t have rights. They deserve punishment, after all.
10) You are elderly, probably senile. Nothing you say can possibly be true. After all, you are a batty old lady full of silly notions. Go back to your teddy bear.
11) You are physically handicapped, blind, or you have had a stroke, or you are developmentally disabled. Who can blame someone for taking advantage of you? We assumed you simply wouldn’t notice that you were assaulted.
12) The perp wasn’t well educated. Try to see things from the perp’s point of view. I mean, consider the suicide rate among perps. We should have National Perp Day. A charity for perps. Have you loved your perp today? Please, have pity on these folks.
13) You have serious anger problems and that’s why you are complaining. Go to anger management. You are so sick and you need antidepressants.
14) Pray and forgive. And give money to our church. This is “help.” You’ll probably be abused more, but pray harder and forgive the church over and over, too.
15) Go to a hospital or mental health care if you have been abused. The hospital will see to it that you are made “happy” so you’ll never, ever speak of the abuse again. However, if their tactics don’t work, expect Medical Abuse or Psychiatric Abuse, in the form of forced drugging, further imprisonment, and the like.
16) Above all, do not form a support group or website about abuse. Never blog about it. This is a threat and this will make you a liability case. You will be blacklisted at medical institutions and denied even the most basic care.
17) Are you still speaking out? We can ignore you, but should you be found dead by the side of the road someday, surely it was only a random killing, right?


I live in public housing. We lock doors here and we know our own neighbors can’t be trusted. It’s an way of life you grow into after a while. Your friends? Be on guard. Those rabbit ears develop, you aren’t born with them. They come from trauma, over and over. I see rabbit ears on people, those scared, scared eyes, ready to run.

Young people too, these days. Scared eyes and ears up. Clothes, too, wearing those clothes that tell me they are on the defensive, clothes that protect them from a potential attacker that might come after them from any angle.

Tell someone who lives a cushy life. They have no clue, and will look at you with a blank stare.