The therapist abuse "packet" that I swore didn't apply to me

Therapist sexual abuse can be hard to recognize

“Don’t give me the packet. I don’t NEED the packet. I’ve GIVEN people the packet. I’ve READ the packet. Trust me.” I told Flute Guy. “I’ve read it!”

“You need to read it again,” he said calmly. “I’ve printed out two copies–one for each of us, and we’re going to read it together.”

The informational packet issued by the California Department of Consumer Affairs, created in conjunction with the California Board of Psychology and the California Board of Behavioral Sciences.

I was so furious with him–with everybody in my life that I’d gone to for help. I thought I had explained the situation very clearly. I told Flute Guy, about five friends, and dozens of strangers online that I had done something terrible. I had fallen in love with someone who wasn’t my husband. Not only that, it was extra embarrassing because the person I was in love with was my therapist.

“He’s been totally ethical about the whole thing!” I told everyone. I explained that he had said that while he stated he was attracted to me and would love to have sex with me, that our situation came with inherent heartbreak, because we couldn’t be together sexually since he was my therapist. We could be together mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, but couldn’t have a physical sexual relationship. We could still talk about my sexual fantasies about him at length–we could still hold hands. We could still enjoy the “fun” of knowing that we both wanted each other.

I was so distraught. I felt like I couldn’t go on with my life. How could I live without getting to have sex with this incredible man who lit up every part of my body. It was unbearable. And my poor husband and baby. I would surely have to leave them now that I was in love with someone else. It was just tragedy all around. I needed help from friends to know what to do next.

And then came the packets. From everyone. Everyone I told sent the packet.

After I emailed a friend from college about my terrible behavior, she wrote back:

“I have MANY things to say about this, the least of which is that this fucking guy needs to have his license revoked. That is the most fucked up shit I have ever heard a therapist tell a client. Do you think we should hold hands?!? Seriously Liz, no wonder your head is fucked. Much more to say tomorrow xoxo”

The next day, she sent me a link to the packet.

“I talked to my friend who is a therapist,” said another friend. “She said you are in danger and need to read this packet.”

“Liz, before you do anything else, please read this informational packet from the licensing boards,” said a third friend.

Someone else linked to the packet in the chat room where I was dumping out my story.

“I have that already!” I snapped back.

I scoffed at every single one of them. “I’m sorry I’m explaining this wrong,” I said. “We didn’t have sex. I don’t need the packet. He’s completely 100% ethical. We haven’t had sex. We just talk about it.”

Why was everyone giving me the packet? This was bananas!

A woman surrounded by hands grabbing at her. (Creative Commons/Itonijao

“The Packet” I’m referring to is called “Therapy Never Includes Sexual Behavior”. It’s put out by the California Board of Psychology and Board of Behavioral Sciences and every single therapist in the state is supposed to hand it to their clients at their first appointment. Guess who didn’t give me one? (Creep)

It didn’t seem strange to me that he didn’t give me the packet. I had always thought it was sort of an embarrassing and awkward thing for therapists to do. I had worked at a mental health center myself about a decade before and burst out laughing when I first saw the earlier iteration of the packet called “Professional Psychotherapy Never Includes Sex”.

I showed it to my supervisor with a laugh and a “what’s this?” and she explained what seemed unfathomable to me–that some psychotherapists took advantage of their clients’ vulnerabilities and started sexual relationships with them. Ensuring that all therapists at the counseling center gave their clients “the packet” would keep them safer.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea that anyone would be this sick or demented. I tucked the packet back into the client’s intake paperwork folder and didn’t think about it again for years. After I got my MSW (Master’s in Social Work) I registered with the California Board of Behavioral Sciences to start pursuing hours towards my license. Apparently, I received a copy of the packet with my registration materials.

I say “apparently” because I don’t remember receiving it, but the Creep’s lawyer showed a receipt that it had been part of the materials that I received when I registered–about 8 years before I met the Creep.

Why was the Creep’s lawyer bringing up the packet in MY deposition? Well, he wanted to prove that I had seen the packet before and that meant that I, as a patient, should have known better. Me having seen the packet twice in my life was “evidence” to him that everything that had happened with the Creep was all my fault–that I was a willing participant–perhaps I had even TRAPPED the Creep with my extensive knowledge of the packet. His lawyer sought to prove that I knew full well that the Creep wasn’t allowed to be such a raging Creep and therefore it meant the responsibility for his abhorrent behavior was on me.

Flute Guy read me the introductory paragraph to the packet as I twitched and wrung my hands and covered my body with one of his large pillows:

Sexual behavior between a therapist and a client can harm the client. Harm may arise from the therapist’s exploitation of the client to fulfill his or her own needs or desires, and from the therapist’s loss of the objectivity necessary for effective therapy. All therapists are trained and educated to know that this kind of behavior is illegal and unethical.

Therapists are trusted and respected by their clients, and it is not uncommon for clients to admire and feel attracted to them. However, a therapist who accepts or encourages the expression of these feelings through sexual behavior with the client—or tells a client that sexual involvement is part of therapy—violates the therapeutic relationship, and engages in conduct that may be illegal and unethical. This kind of abusive behavior can cause harmful, long-lasting, emotional, and psychological effects to the client.

“AND?” I said. “He didn’t do this! There was no sex!”

Flute Guy kept reading:

In most sexual misconduct cases, other inappropriate behavior comes first. While it may be subtle or confusing, it usually feels uncomfortable to the client. Some clues or warning signs are:

• Telling sexual jokes or stories.

• Sending obscene images or messages to the client.

• Unwanted physical contact.

• Excessive out-of-session communication (e.g., text, phone, email, social media, etc.) not related to therapy.

• Inviting a client to lunch, dinner, or other social and professional activities.

• Dating.

• Changing the office’s business practices (e.g., scheduling late appointments when no one is around, having sessions away from the office, etc.).

• Confiding in a client (e.g., about the therapist’s love life, work problems, loneliness, marital problems, etc.).

• Telling a client that he or she is special, or that the therapist loves him or her.

• Relying on a client for personal and emotional support.

• Giving or receiving significant gifts.

• Suggesting or supporting the client’s isolation from social support systems, increasing dependency on the therapist.

• Providing or using alcohol or drugs during sessions.

If you are experiencing any of these warning signs, you have the right to file a complaint with the appropriate licensing board and consult with another therapist.

“AND?” I said again. “He didn’t do any of these things!”

I think we probably exchanged at least a thousand emails, but I still couldn’t see it. And I twisted it around in my brain that I was the one telling the sexual stories, so he was completely faultless.

Flute Guy said he believed that part of the reason I couldn’t see what was happening was that I couldn’t bear for yet another person in my life to let me down so egregiously.

Flute Guy had a pack of playing cards. I remember that. He started listing the people in my life who had treated me like trash and tossing a playing card on the floor to represent each one of them.

“Your father,” he said and tossed a card on the floor.

“Your mother,” another card.

“Every single kid in school who made fun of your lazy eye instead of being your friend,” six or seven cards went flying to the floor one by one.

“The people at the Groundlings who told you they were your family,” cards were flying like wild now.

“The professor who failed you in your research class out of spite,” another card.

“The psychiatrist who drudge you out of your mind,” another card.

I was sobbing at this point and he stopped.

“Look at the mess,” he said, and then held up one card in front of my face. “And you just needed this one person, Creep, not to let you down,....”

He flung the card across the room. I cried and cried.

“I have to go back on Friday,” I said. “It’s less than 48 hours notice and he requires 48 hours notice or I’ll have to pay him anyway so I have to go on Friday!” I said.

Flute Guy shook his head.

“No Friday,” he said. “Going back to Creep is like drinking poison and expecting to feel better.”

“But it’s too late to cancel!” I plead.

“You know what?” he said. “I so badly don’t want you to go back to that office on Friday, I’m willing to deduct the cost of Creep’s fee from our next session so that you’re not out any money.” (Flute Guy charged $50 more than the Creep.)

Flute Guy had his only financial challenges that I may or many not get into later, but money didn’t rule him.

I told him I couldn’t accept, but agreed not to go on Friday. The following Tuesday was my final session with the Creep. I’ll talk about that next.

I’ll post a new chapter of “My Psychotherapist Was a Creep” every week.