It's been a roller-coaster week for me. Let me see if I can summarize it:

The most significant thing BY FAR is that Danee endured all four rounds of the sweat lodge last night. I won't spoil her story for her, but let me say this--our ceremony leader used 150 rocks. That is HARDCORE. To compare, Shannon and Victoria's sweat used about 50-75. I am so proud of her, and I see her return more to life every day.

"The Wing" by Ray Buckley - buy it.

This week a remarkable patient of mine has taken giant steps, and she's been in excruciating pain from it. She has been in therapy since age 8, and she said "I've never even gotten past the surface of saying 'I was abused' and never said anything more about it." She's a frequent cutter and recovering drug addict, and at age 20 is raising her toddler daughter alone (but with dad's help). Mom has checked out and prefers the excitement of new boyfriends to actually parenting her daughter. Well, my patient said on Day Four of therapy, "this is further than I've ever gone in 12 years of counseling." She sits in the corner, curled in a ball, journaling furiously throughout group as her leg bounced in wild hyperactivity and terror. She can't feel comfortable with men, yet she said this week "I trust you." Danee came and met with her and told her what therapy would be like (I'll let Danee say more if she likes--but no names).

So anyway, this patient completed a massive collage, following the "Shannon Model" of using one side to represent hurt, and the other, Hope. She also disclosed some deeply personal and delicate things to us in her art, saying "I wanted to be honest. I've never dealt with this, and it's time to. I truth you with it." The whole group is in tears at that point, even the medical student observer.

After group she approached me and told me she is feeling suicidal with an overdose plan. She was afraid to go to the hospital, but asked me to make her do it. I asked her why she had volunteered this secret, and she said "because you've worked so hard with me, you've really put a lot of effort into helping me--more than anyone ever has--and I know your heart's in it. I don't want to do this to you." Okay, that got right to me, and I teared up. She called me three times from the hospital just to reassure me "I'm doing fine! I'm coming back! I can still be in your group, right?" Her dad also called me just to say, "this is the first time I've ever seen her have hope."

People who don't do this work make some mistaken judgments about it: "how can you organize your life's work around pain? Isn't is unhealthy?" It's a question asked by someone who never gets to see this side of things.

I want to address something briefly and succinctly. I encountered Shannon this week, very much by accident. I was at the campus where I teach, leaving the office after a meeting, and there she was, walking by right in front of me! I've kept this whole issue off the boards for weeks, but it's time to let out a little of the news. I was so nervous, awkward, and goofy standing there trying to ask her "what's going on?" (which was probably inappropriate in the setting, but she hadn't responded to any of my "proper" efforts to reconnect and ask) that my heart beat into my throat and my adrenaline made me tremble the whole time. I won't relate everything, but I'll go ahead and reveal this to the group of you: I learned that Shannon's sudden and mysterious absence is not a result of circumstances or oversight, but a result of choice. I also learned that she does not hold me, or us, responsible for this choice, and assured me none of us has done anything wrong. She said she's distancing from this whole part of her life, and DS in particular is off-limits, but she plans to return to us eventually while school is the foremost priority. I agree with that priority and see it as healthy, but I've been stunned by the neglect from her of any effort to assure us that she wants us in her life still, that she's okay, etc. She did not clarify the reasons for any of this. Throughout the encounter, I saw that she was tight-armed, uncomfortable, and pretty vague too. I forgot to ask whether she intends to fulfill speaking appointments she agreed to, including the conference in October where she and I as a team are a scheduled topic. So I have no idea. I left by saying how much we loved her, and how unforgettable she has been to us. I've been in tears with hurt feelings, but I've reached a resolute decision and understanding now, and as painful as it is I will have to detach and give up the effort. And maybe listen to "Believed You Were lucky" and "Limits to Love" by 'Til Tuesday a few extra times. I do miss the Shannon who wrote heartbreakingly-beautiful letters about proud survivors who are there for each other, who don't go through this alone, who succeed with one another's help and love, and who once told me that Victoria and I were the closest friends she had in her life. But the tides do come, and sand castles do wash away.

The next news item seems to be similar to the last: I don't believe in coincidence, of course, and the very day after bumping into Shannon one of my group members started the group in tears. She said that she had been reaching out repeatedly to her beloved sister, who had once been close to her, but had suddenly withdrawn and amputated their friendship. My patient talked about feeling so sad at not being able to connect with a person she loves so deeply, and feeling the pain of wondering "What happened? Did I do something wrong? Did someone convince her in some way that I'm not a healthy friend?" So okay, my jaw drops. My patient talked about how she had gone through all the stages of loss: denial ("She doesn't mean it, she's just busy, life's crazy") to bargaining ("Maybe if I sent another message, tried another phone call, gave another little gift..."), anger ("You know, I don't deserve this! I've been nothing but loving and supportive to her! Why would she turn her back on one of the very few people who's been there and been healthy and positive all this time?") to depression.

Victoria has been so reliable and patient with me through all this week. She went through her cathartic grieving two weeks ago, and it's allowed her help me. After all, I am a human before I am a therapist.

The first meeting of the informal OKC "tribe" is tonight at the offices of the Oklahoma Coalition Against Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault at 38th and N. Santa Fe Ave. We'll meet as close to 5:00 as people can get there, for about an hour. After 6, the office suite exterior doors lock, so don't be more than an hour late!

I spent 90 minutes talking to Jennifer, one of my dearest friends and confidants in town, at the OCAVDSA offices yesterday. She and her program director want to use grant money next year to host a series of workshops across the state in which I do all-day trainings with therapists on using the "Resurrection Method" for treating rape. It would be an honor, because this would officially establish me as the state expert, since OCADVSA is the state authority that coordinates all crisis programs in Oklahoma. In short, "Whoo-hoo!"

And one thing to end with...

The patient who went into the hospital with the suicide plan, who didn't want to hurt me? Well, just minutes ago while typing this she popped her head in my office with a gigantic, cheesy smile. She said "I'm back!" and did a little twirl and dance. She said "I'm ready to get to work! Let's beat this thing!"


"Don't be cruel to any of these little ones! I promise you that their angels are always with my Father in heaven. Let me ask you this. What would you do if you had a hundred sheep and one of them wandered off? Wouldn't you leave the ninety-nine on the hillside and go look for the one that had wandered away? I am sure that finding it would make you happier than having the ninety-nine that never wandered off. That's how it is with your Father in heaven. He doesn't want any of these little ones to be lost. "
-Matthew 18:10-14