UPDATE: CASE CLOSED Voluntarily Surrender of Right to Renew License in Lieu of Disciplinary Action Timeline of Public Documents
*On November 9, 2022, I received an email from the Board of Psychology informing me of the progress of the case regarding [redacted]. An informal conference will be held on February 24, 2023. I received a 9 page Notice detailing the allegations. I’m waiting for that to be available on the website before sharing it. For now, if you search the license lookup you’ll see “Yes” for Additional Public Information* and that is all I ever wanted. Over the past few weeks I’ve had numerous conversations with a variety of professionals about my desire to recover from what I would describe as therapy abuse that occurred from 1996-2018. I filed a complaint with the Department of Health Professions in September 2020 yet there has been no resolution which has caused me to feel hopeless, regretful, and desperate. In October 2021 I had an emotional, but helpful 22 minute conversation with a staff member at the DHP. Despite my recent request, the staff at DHP have refused to talk with me again and have indicated via email that they don’t have time to answer my questions about the ongoing process which has only exacerbated the trauma that reporting him has caused me. I asked a counselor if I made a mistake by filing my complaint because it feels like it has only ended up hurting me more than if I just stayed silent. She said that she believes that despite the bureaucratic obstacles that are delaying any action or closure, it was the right thing to do to report the abuse. She suggested that I might consider speaking with a lawyer about any other options I might have. I took that advice and had two very useful conversations with a lawyer who specializes in therapy abuse. Although she couldn’t take on my case due to the statute of limitations, she suggested that I might want to consider becoming an advocate for changes in the state laws regarding medical malpractice. It helped to talk with someone who’s represented others who have struggled with coming forward, knowing that it often takes years to get to that point and then it’s too late to do anything about it. I reached out to the Women’s Initiative during their call-in clinic to get advice on therapy to resolve the issues that filing the complaint has caused. I agreed to speak with an intern rather than a licensed clinician because I thought it was important that someone in training hears about the intense pain that may result from bad therapy. Explaining my story in 30 minutes helped me focus on the core issues I want to address. She noted that one of my strengths was my sense of humor and commented on my bravery and strength to reach out for help despite my history. I spent $208.50 to get a copy of my medical records from my former therapist so I could see what the DHP might have received. It was no surprise that the huge stack of documents was disorganized and incomplete. It was another unpleasant trip down memory lane especially when I found the notes for the session when he hit me with the door as I tried to leave and the session when I confronted him about a hurtful text and email he sent me outside of therapy. At least I know that those notes corroborate my “testimony” although they leave out some very important details. I had already received handwritten therapy notes from 2006-2007 years ago when I was trying to quit the first time. In September 2020, I submitted transcripts of those notes typed up by me because his handwriting was so difficult to read. Luckily the notes from 2012-2018 were already typed, but finding any actual encounter notes in pages filled with duplicative information was quite difficult. I spent a couple hours transcribing the 2008 handwritten notes and the 2012-2018 typed notes into a spreadsheet. Then I reviewed all the billing records and entered all those dates into the spreadsheet as well. 1,096. That is the number of sessions I had with this therapist. That number alone feels like the strongest and most striking evidence that something went terribly wrong in my “treatment plan.” It’s humiliating and embarrassing to disclose this information, but I need to be transparent in order to finally begin the healing process. When I spoke with someone at the Women’s Center to get a referral she shared with me that if I needed validation that telling a former patient “I’ll pass” when they reach out for help is unprofessional, she was giving that to me. She didn’t even need to know the full story to make that observation as a counselor herself. I could tell that she was upset that something like this happened to someone which gave me hope. I hope that despite being financially limited due to my current unemployment I might find the right clinician to help me process my experience and grow from it. I feel like my situation would be the perfect case for someone in training and I’m more than willing to share my story to help new therapists gain skills to help others. I need to explore how and why I allowed myself to be in this situation for so long despite numerous warning signs and advice from my friends, family, and other mental health professionals. Most importantly I want to forgive myself. I’ve spent a lot of time ruminating and blaming myself, but as the lawyer reminded me: he was trained to prevent this from happening. It’s not entirely my fault. Additional Public Information* Postscript: To add insult after injury, I reached out to the therapist’s office when I realized encounter notes from 2009-2011 were missing without any explanation. I received an email message and letter in the mail that stunned and terrified me. I responded electronically and received a less ominous email reply. These two exchanges pretty much sum it all up. :( Resources 8 Signs of a Bad Therapist: When You Should Move On
Ten Signs Your Therapist is Abusing You: What to Look For
Warning Signs Of An Abusive Counselor
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I started this poem "Wellness Check" as a somewhat tongue in cheek reaction to a story I read about someone who was held captive and her family knew something was wrong because she wasn't sharing her Wordle score. I started to think about all the other things I could do or not do that would indicate I was in trouble. It took me all day to write and rewrite this and I'm still not 💯 satisfied but I'm so proud of myself. I haven't spent this long on creative writing since I earned my MFA from GMU in 2004. I loved reconnecting to that part of myself enjoys hunting for the right words to solve the puzzle 🧩 in my mind. #BeThe1To take a few minutes and reach out to someone you care about. #wellness#creativewriting #wordle #mentalheathmatters #suicideprevention A related poem that I wrote when I was in college in 1993. Another poem about identity from 2000. UPDATE: CASE CLOSED Voluntarily Surrender of Right to Renew License in Lieu of Disciplinary Action Timeline of Public Documents
To: Ani DiFranco From: Leah Connor Re: Thank you. Hi! I’m 50 years old and I haven’t written a fan letter to a musician since I was probably 15, but I need to personally reach out to say thank you, Ani. Long story short, I had a very toxic and damaging relationship with a psychologist from 2007-2020 and when I requested an appointment with him during the throes of COVID-19 he offered me dates, until I insisted on a tele-therapy appointment and then replied, “I’ll pass.” I reported him to the Department of Health Professionals 40 days later. There was an investigation, I provided evidence, and the report was submitted in December 2020. It’s now February 2022 without any resolution and it’s been unbearable to wait. I have an MFA in creative writing (2004), but I haven’t written much in the past 20 years. The only thing that helped me get through the roughest days lately was screaming out the chorus of “Untouchable Face.” That’s when I thought, wow I should remake this song especially for me. So I did and this is what I came up with so far: I know I’m not a saint I analyze and criticize with remorse, without restraint I know I’m not a fake Making enemies and allies Reliving my mistake I can’t take back my complaint So fuck you … and this unresolvable case Fuck you …for destroying a safe space And who am I? to dare call you out on your shit I said who am I? to win against a narcissist I sat on your couch Vocalizing my doubts Wondering what it would be like to trust Build intimacy without touch or lust Except fuck you … for denying my grace Fuck you …for cheating in this race And who am I? that I should want closure I said who am I? To lose my composure Early on, I dared to complain at sessions starting late the stolen minutes proved you didn’t care (enough) with so much at stake If I only knew how to wait when staying gets tough Fuck you …for the memories I can’t erase Fuck you …for making me feel out of place And who am I? To ask for boundaries and insist I said who am I? To deserve “I’ll pass” when you’re finished Couldn’t learn my lessons Couldn’t change my fate Couldn’t hide the stuff That finally made me break If only you kicked me out when I wanted to leave and needed a reprieve when I couldn’t believe I’d find water in a drought And who am I? If my complaint is dismissed I said who am I? If I don’t want to exist I said who am I? No more strength to resist Who am I? Tired from fighting like a darwinist Who am I? To blame myself for having caused all this I am going to write the verses, but that’s going to take a bit more time. Until then, I’ll be singing Fuck you on repeat. :)
UPDATE: CASE CLOSED Voluntarily Surrender of Right to Renew License in Lieu of Disciplinary Action Timeline of Public Documents
I am not a quitter. Musical instruments are about the only thing I’ve given up on, having failed miserably at the piano, then flute, the guitar, and drums. Although one of my shining moments in high school was playing the drums in a neighboring Catholic High School’s rendition of “Camelot.” My one and only “professional” musical gig. Persistence and grit have helped me become a successful long distance runner, but that inability to take a break when necessary has also left me injured and broken. (Literally! My sesamoids!) Knowing when to press pause, stop, or reset is as crucial as having the desire and guts to start. That’s why I only gave medals to runners who dropped out of the Rivanna Greenbelt Marathon rather than those who finished. I knew how difficult it was to DNF because I have only done it twice in 13 years of running 100s of races. Ending one race before the finish line does not mean you’ve entirely given up on your goals. It just means you’ve delayed trying to achieve one on a particular day when the odds were not in your favor in hopes of being more likely to achieve it in the future on a better day. I’ve found every journey — it’s beginning, ending, and everything in between — yields it’s best results when there are clear boundaries and guidelines. I always read the event rules, employee handbook, and informed consent. I am determined to follow my own personal moral code. Breaking the rules might not always get you disqualified, hurt, or fired, but there is no inherent victory in living in a world where you’re beyond reproach or accountability. I have never been one to decidedly and permanently end any personal relationship… to ignore or erase someone willingly from my life. I will always leave the door open. I’m not resistant to apologizing myself when I’m wrong and I will always graciously accept an apology from anyone no matter how long it takes. My husband is self-described as aloof, but he makes me laugh which, to me, is essential for any healthy relationship. I might not always get the emotional support I want or need, but we have a bond that’s lasted since we first met in 1994. When we moved to Charlottesville I had no local friends and yearned for connection so I chose therapy as an option to guide me on a path to personal growth and positive change. I hoped I could improve my self-esteem and develop the skills to comfort and care for myself. It’s been difficult for me to admit and thoroughly process, but I had a very unhealthy and emotionally damaging relationship with a therapist that began on September 22, 2006 and permanently ended on July 29, 2020. I didn’t officially quit or terminate the therapy. I had tried numerous times since 2007, with varying degrees of success. (Success being the length of time that lapsed between sessions, the longer it was, the more successful.) I last saw him in-person for a session on February 19, 2018, but there were a few random encounters and emails before my final attempt to schedule an appointment in July 2020 when I was struggling with changes relating to the pandemic as well as work. We emailed a bit back and forth with a joke and emojis. He offered me a couple potential times to meet, but when I made a thoughtful and detailed request for a virtual session rather than in-person because of COVID-19 concerns and my insurance coverage, his harshly dismissive, insensitive, two-word response: “I’ll pass.” It took me 40 days to process those two words and to respond to him, but before I did, I finally filed a complaint with the Enforcement Division of the Department of Health Professions about his abusive behavior, specifically the blurred boundaries, dual relationships, billing issues, and frequent outbursts of anger. There are doors that are closed, others locked, doors we can easily open, others we gladly shut on our own, and then there are doors that hit us on the way out. I had a door hit me as I left my therapist’s office after a heated political argument (yes, so many things wrong with that scenario). It scared me and scarred me emotionally, but even that didn’t keep me from trying to salvage the relationship one more time rather than officially quit. I’ve found that I’m most frustrated when there’s no clarity or when I feel like I’m being ignored and that’s been my experience as I’ve waited the 9 months since this investigation began. Without any final resolution, I’m still ruminating and analyzing, trying to find the meaning in past words, actions or inactions, to ascribe motives. If I think about what harmed me the most — it wasn’t the inappropriate out of session communications, the half of a red velvet cake he gave me on my 40th birthday, his oversharing of personal, family, and health information, the unwarranted criticisms of me or my husband, or the dependency on him he fostered with the frequency of appointments and no clear treatment plan -- it was the anger, the rage, especially when I dared to question his own intentions, behaviors, or business practices. Almost everyone who’s been to therapy has a hidden desire to feel special or unique, to want to know what the therapist really thinks about them, to be liked, to be cared for, and maybe even to blur those boundaries in an effort to redefine the relationship. Trust me: those boundaries are there to protect you, the client. If a therapist doesn’t respect them, run away and, if you can, report it to the licensing board. My dysfunctional therapy was a secret for a long time, but when I first described the dynamics of the relationship to another therapist who I had been seeing with my husband for couples therapy, he asked if I had seen the movie “Gaslight.” The term gaslighting has become more popular over the past 5 years, but back in 2007 it was a foreign concept to me. I quickly googled it and learned how appropriately it applied to my situation. I have an intuition and sense about people that’s very good, but I started doubting my own gut feelings that something was very wrong in this case. I shouldn’t have. I know now I never was misreading the situation, that this therapist acted inappropriately and unprofessionally and for whatever reason we had a “stormy relationship” that I couldn’t quit and he would never end by referring me to another professional. Yes, I have issues and I’m probably the first to willingly admit all of my faults, my anxieties and indignations, but I’ve come to learn that it wasn’t just me who was treated in a harmful manner by this therapist. I found quite a number of online reviews that are frighteningly similar to my own experience. I feel a bit guilty, but it’s actually comforting to find out that he was explosive, rude, disrespectful, threatening, mean, controlling, and unprofessional with other clients, it wasn’t just me. I always made excuses for his aggressive outbursts -- I deserved it, I’m difficult, I have a hard time letting good things in so when he did say nice things about me it was hard to believe it, so in a way I misinterpreted his anger as intimacy that I could not reject out of hand. But if I’m honest, I probably would be rather upset to find out that he lied to me when he said I knew more about his personal life than anyone else he ever worked with and I will definitely need to address that seriously messed-up feeling with a future counselor. Having a therapist repeatedly violate boundaries should NOT feel like a badge of honor, but it was one of the reasons I never reported him. Until now, I couldn’t even consider that I might be just one of many victims because I didn’t want to even see myself as a victim. I completely rationalized the experience, blamed myself for pushing and testing him, and for asking all the questions that he freely answered. If it wasn’t just me who he took advantage of and used for his own personal and financial needs would that make me even more pathetic for convincing myself to keep trying to make it work and never quitting despite so much misery and so many red flags? Although I didn’t want to know the answer, I could no longer live with myself if I didn’t at least try to do something to prevent this from happening to anyone else. I have to hope that my complaint could possibly protect other potential clients from his insensitivity and anger. Even though waiting for resolution is excruciating, I immediately felt empowered when I finally took action and had conversations with the investigator and my insurance company. Every time someone listened to my story and told me this wasn’t right or it wasn’t uncommon, I felt somewhat validated. It’s probably impossible for me to get all the answers and clarity I seek, to understand why this happened to me, but I do hope there will be an official record about my experience as “Client A” and for the board to acknowledge there was a violation even if there’s no disciplinary action. Two days after I filed my formal complaint I sent a final message to my former therapist: “I’m a person, not a piece of pizza.” It’s taken 40 days to process 2 words. I’m at peace knowing that your message was unethical, unprofessional, and wrong. We had a therapeutic relationship on and off since September 22, 2006. You pass on a piece of pizza, not a person. I deserve better. His response two days later was nothing like any other message he ever sent me, it seemed more likely written by a lawyer or an HR manager. Of course there was no apology for his previous insensitive two-word rejection, rather it ended with, “I wish you the best.” Ok, I really wish he would have sent that sanitized message initially instead of “I’ll pass.” Music is Therapy: “I’LL SHUFFLE” playlist 🙂 The good news in all of this is that I’m finally becoming more comfortable with myself and am better at creating and respecting boundaries. As I’ve been more honest about my past experiences, I’m optimistic and hopeful for future personal growth and am grateful to have a new counselor who I trust to work with when I’m ready. If you never watching HBO’s “In Treatment”, I’d highly recommend it. The episodes with Paul and his mentor Gina in seasons 1 and 2 and psychiatrist Adele in season 3 are great examinations of the importance of boundaries. Related Articles
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UPDATE: CASE CLOSED Voluntarily Surrender of Right to Renew License in Lieu of Disciplinary Action Timeline of Public Documents
I don’t know if it’s a real person or AI on the other end of the Crisis Text Line, but these words of support (listed below) resonated with me when I felt vulnerable, powerless, and ignored by the Virginia Department of Health Professions. No one should be victimized by the system after taking the personal risk to report a therapist for a potential violation. I filed a complaint on September 7, 2020 and today it’s February 2, 2022. There’s no end in sight to my waiting for resolution. The longer it takes the more concerned I am that if nothing comes of all this, I will lose faith in my own perceptions and my belief in justice and accountability. I honestly can't imagine what I will do if after all this waiting I find out that there will be no public record of my case and no action by the board. I'm genuinely terrified because I know with every day that passes, the damage intensifies. The worst part in all of this is the shift from feeling empowered and hopeful in May 2021 when I first went public about my experiences in a blog post to the gut-wrenching despair I’m experiencing today knowing I will never receive proper closure. I blame myself for causing my own suffering and I regret everything. I regret filing the complaint, talking with the investigator, compiling the evidence. None of this was worth the harm that it's caused me. I initially believed I was doing this to protect others and to have my concerns validated, but I've been tortured by the never-ending anxiety, doubts, and guilt for bothering VDHP staff with all my questions and concerns. I made a huge mistake and I need this to stop. There are 300 open cases right now. I am just one of them. If you or someone you know is suicidal or in emotional distress: |
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