When Billy used to not pay attention in class, he’d get hit in the back of the head and hear FOCUS, moron. Welcome to the 1980’s!

One observation from my book is how could have met with such disastrous therapists so early on.

So let’s review.

In doing so, we most hold onto the believe that therapy, much less childhood - or juvenile therapy - as it was called then, was the same forty years to forty-five years ago as is today. Can we leave space for the idea that it might, as each and every medical practice is, drastically different than modern times.

I was in therapy pre-Prozac. That was a strange place, armed with only a small handful of MAOI’s or tricyclic pills to take for whatever ailed you, there was a lot less psychiatrists. Psychologists. Sure. Certified Social workers? Absolutely.

Hacks? In abundance.

So to be clear, no childhood therapist I speak of was a doctor, a medically trained person. And since not everybody is dead yet, let’s stick a pin in that. Though, to be fair, the amount of people who’ve read my book that have snuck into my inbox with cat killing curiosity all whispered the exact same name.

So when I’m asked - how on EARTH could this have been allowed to occur? It’s exactly that. Lots of people knew this man was hurting kids. That he was disingenuous, creepy, untrustworthy.

But in the 1980’s, no one thought it was their place to step in.

And later, when I was more than willing…

The biggest evidence I had except about 15 witnesses was my file, and the psychiatric testing results I had.

These were read out to be that I had tested as a bi-polar schizophrenic.

When pressed to see the real results, they said I was suffering from generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, depression, and PTSD.

That there is a highly criminal offense. That there was something the men in suits pulled together like defense to block me from being able to file a case against this man.

Why? Because he worked for the hospital. He worked as a social worker with the elderly/and dying patients.

The lawsuits. I was just a kid. The others I found he messed up, also kids. Other kids didn’t make it. Drugs. Alcohol. Hangings.

Can I prove any of this? Sure. Always could. But it didn’t matter. I know where the moles are that in no normal therapy sessions would I see.

I’ll put it this was: this was a man that once screamed across a mall I was at with my best friend: you’re fucking garbage. You’re a lying no good whore.

Which was embarrassing, both as a virgin and in front of an entire food court.

So it’s always curious to see who thinks I would make up this sane fanciful story for the past 40 years. And why. I went there with a touch of panic that he swore for 3 years was willful defiance. I left angry, murderous, and with panic and anxiety so bad, I’ve never entered another medical appointment by myself again.

Point is, the 80’s were a different time. Later, I can remember the first time I heard about ADD and Ritalin. Later ADHD and adderall. OCD. I was in therapy when Prozac was released. I can remember hearing about Asperger’s for the first time. Even Autism. And post-partum depression wasn’t always a thing either. Prozac, and the first onslaught of SSRI’s put the money into mental health, to have mental health looked into.

And it changed psychiatry. It changed therapy. It opened the door, and people poured in.

But it wasn’t like that before. Not even close.

Children didn’t have mental disorders, they had discipline problems.

And that fucked up more kids than you’ll ever know.

So no, I didn’t take creative liberties in my writing. I just got old. This crap aged out, and I’m glad of it.

I mean, I don’t suppose a psychologist is still $50 for an hour? I’ve had 13 therapists of different degrees. I quit when I hit 30 and decided I liked me the way I was, anxious and all, far more than the constant pill pushing and frustration that nothing was making it go away. So that was about 2002? Psychiatrist still $110 an hour? 😂