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.