how i was spiritually raped and left for dead (part 10)

part 1 is here
part 9 is here

ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
only darkness everyday
ain't no sunshine when she's gone
and this house just ain't no home
anytime she goes away ~bill withers

a horizontal shadow closed, like a curtain, down the wall and across the concrete floor, in sync with the motor of the garage door. as the garage darkened, i took a deep breath and opened the door leading into my house.

inside, my daughter was playing on the floor. my wife came through the opening leading to the kitchen and approached me as i entered the living room. we were both nervous, self-conscious. we hugged and shared a brief kiss.

i didn't know what they had been telling her during my week away. did they tell her that i had left because i was angry at her? did they give her instructions on how to behave when i returned? was i talking to her...or to bob and his wife? in retrospect, i realize that she was every bit as confused as i. that was their game; keep everyone walking on eggshells.

bob had instructed me to see him on my way home, so i had stopped at his house for a brief “pep-talk” about an hour earlier. he had given me 20 bucks and said, “take her out to dinner.” i was pretty sure my wife would be there when i got home; after all, he had told me to take her to dinner. if they would have sent her away, he wouldn't have given me the money. he wouldn't have instructed me to take her to dinner...right?

on the other hand, there was always the possibility that bob was stashing her and my daughter somewhere and that he intended to act as though he had nothing to do with her absence. he could have arranged for her to “show up” at george's house. “i don't know what happened,” he would say. “she freaked out. she's scared. she wants to have a little time to get her head straight” then, he would get me to focus on the upcoming licensing inspections, promising to “straighten her out” for me. of course if this were the case, i'd probably never see my wife again.

i had seen him do this to another couple before. it was another staff purpose night. linda was at our house for some reason. she was on the phone with a young married woman named dana, making arrangements to meet with her before purpose. linda hung up the phone and left. something didn't feel right.

about a year earlier, dana and her husband, jack, were expecting their first child. things were chaotic. bob and his wife hadn't given their blessing and i caught a glimpse of some of the hush-hush efforts to deal with the “problem.”

dana was young, 19 or 20. her husband wasn't much older. i had been a groomsmen in their wedding. these two seemed as though they were meant to be together, as though the world would have remained forever out of balance if they hadn't found each other.

they were also, critical to the program. jack was a phenomenal counselor. he was making more referrals into the fee-based programs than any other staff member. dana was tender and loving. she ran group therapy. she had a way of making everyone feel comfortable. parents and kids alike trusted her.

on the whole, the program was in a tentative spot. it hadn't been too long since bob had split with jim and al and had drawn us all in. we were short on experienced staff, most were green kids who had no real skill. we had gotten outpatient up and running. the hospital was now beginning to run smoothly. also, another couple had recently had a child, unsanctioned. it had cost the program a staff member (the mother), because bob didn't allow pregnant women or mothers to work as counselors at that time.

“we can't handle another baby,” i'd overheard someone say.

bob and his wife had driven from san diego to phoenix and had arranged to meet with dana and jack at a local hotel. the 'buzz' was that they weren't ready to have a baby—that this baby was a mistake. bob and his wife weren't about to let their “fvcked-up bullshit fvck it up for everyone else.” if they insisted on having the baby, they were gone.

dana and jack spent hours in the hotel room with bob and his wife. i don't know exactly what they were told, but i know what i was told. it came down to this. dana and jack had fvcked up by getting pregnant. since it was their fvck-up, it was wrong to force this soul [the baby] into the world when it wasn't the right time. therefore, the pregnancy had to be aborted to save the baby's soul from taking on dana and jack's fvcked-up karma.

after the meeting with bob and his wife, dana had an abortion. it wasn't talked about much. everyone knew what happened. everyone got the message—get pregnant without bob's blessing and run the risk of losing the child.

in bob's program, we all had the same political and spiritual beliefs. one of those beliefs was that abortion was murder. the fact that this couple had been instructed to have an abortion underlined the seriousness of the situation. we were also taught that we chose our parents prior to birth and that we made that choice based on what we knew that we needed to learn during this lifetime.

the only way that we could reconcile this situation was by buying into the idea that dana and jack had been self-centered by becoming pregnant. we were told that they had attempted to bring a soul into this world against its will to satisfy their own selfish desires and that those desires included sabotaging their own spiritual growth. fortunately, they had bob and his wife to stop the birth of the child and rescue them from their self-sabotaging behavior.

within the confines of the cult, their marriage had survived this trauma, but now their marriage would end.

i arrived at the purpose meeting to find the usual anxious climate in the room. dana spent the entire meeting in another room with some of bob's girls. george seemed preoccupied throughout the meeting. jack was terrified.

after the meeting, jack grabbed me in the parking lot. his wife had already left with bob's girls. frantic, he told me, “dude, i'm freaked-out; i think my wife's gonna divorce me.” what he was trying to say was, “dude, i think they are taking my wife away from me.”

i'm sorry to say that i wasn't much of a friend to him that night. it was more than i could handle. and i knew he was right.

jack was part native american. he had a strong chin and high cheek-bones. his skin was dark and clear, and he sported long, silky, dark-brown hair which hung halfway down his back. he was built like a rock. no one messed with jack.

one afternoon, we had stopped at a convenience store to get some coffee. i had filled my styrofoam cup, capped it and made my way to the cashier's counter.

i was not in the best shape at the time. i had had little time for physical activity and had put on about 20 extra pounds. i waited at the counter as a huge, burly, unshaven biker, dressed in leather chaps and a leather biker jacket, leaned on the counter and carried on a casual conversation with the cashier.

after waiting a few moments, i said to the biker, “hey buddy, you wanna move aside so i can make my purchase?”

the biker turned around, stepped uncomfortably close to me, looked down at me and said, “you wanna take it out side...fat boy?” just then, jack stepped in front of me and calmly replied, “i'd love to...and if you talk to my friend that way again, i'm gonna step outside, after i throw you through the window.” the biker stepped aside, held his hand out, ushering me to the counter, and left quietly.

i wish i'd been a better friend that night in the parking lot. i've replayed it in my head over and over, year after year. what if i'd told him, “you're right, they've got your wife, let's go find her?” instead, i told him everything would be okay. i justified it, thinking there was nothing he could do, thinking he needed encouragement when he needed truth.

no one had told me that they were going to end his marriage, but i, just like jack, had seen it coming. in the previous weeks, i had noticed george becoming increasingly more friendly with dana. he would flirt with her and act as her protector. at the same time, he was talking sh1t about jack. he had referred to jack as a “stupid injun” at times and as a “lazy fvckin' mexican” at other times. he had also commented that he wasn't about to let that beautiful girl [meaning dana] have any “little brown babies.” “i ain't lettin' my kids play with any little brown babies...that's for fvckin' sure,” he'd said.

jack went home alone. later that night, he received a phone call informing him that his wife was not coming home—that she was going to spend the night at george and muffy's house.

the next day, jack received a phone call from brian. he was instructed to go over to george's house. probably thinking that this would be his chance to talk to his wife, he headed to george's house. when he got there, his wife was gone. instead brian and george sat him down for a talk.

things happened fast. george, who looked nervous and was probably terrified of jack's physical prowess, did the talking. brian, who was there to provide the muscle in case jack went ballistic, seemed to come across as though he felt bad, that he didn't agree with what was happening.

“dana needs a break,” george said. “we've arranged for you to go to atlanta and get your sh1t straight. if you do, she'll be here for you when you return.” jack said he wanted to talk to her, to hear it from her directly. “she doesn't want to talk to you right now,” he said. “well, i at least want to say goodbye,” jack told george. “she has nothing to say to you right now,” george replied.

jack was in agony. his people had hidden away his wife and built a barrier around her, preventing him from communicating with her. george was a small man. he was nothing. but he used his position as bob's son-in-law to destroy anyone who possessed personal power. he was threatened by anyone who was more capable than him. jack had two things working against him. first, he asked questions, challenged the inconsistencies he observed. second, he was twice the man george would ever be.

jack determined that the best course of action was to do as he was told. he went home and with the help of another staffer he packed his truck. during that time, he would break down and weep. he would call brian and beg him to let him talk to his wife. he couldn't help but think if he could just talk to her, she would agree to leave the program with him. he was tormented. he wanted to be with his wife, to save his marriage.

when he arrived in atlanta, he immediately knew that things were even more screwed up than he'd thought. he was being “handled.” no one would “get real” with him.

a short time later, a new director arrived in atlanta, someone who had been his friend. jack noticed that the new director was being cold toward him. jack also realized that this guy was spending a good deal of time on the phone, talking long distance...to his [jack's] wife.

jack finally figured out that he would not be getting back together with his wife when he was served with divorce papers. there was no discussion, no explanation. he called george on the phone. “dude, what's the deal. i thought if i got my sh1t together i had a chance at getting back together with my wife,” he said. george responded by simply saying, “well, are you gonna sign the papers?”

perhaps some part of him continued to hold out hope even after he was served.

any hope he still had was shattered when, within two weeks of getting the divorce papers, he received a traffic ticket in the mail. dana's car was still in jack's name after they split. when jack opened the envelope he found a photo-ticket. enclosed was a picture of the license plate on dana's car. there was also a picture of his wife sitting next to the the new atlanta director (who had been in arizona) driving the car. he'd been betrayed, not by his wife, but by the people who'd promised to be his friends, his family. the people he'd turned to for years, seeking guidance, the same ones who'd let him believe that, by toeing the program line, he could have his wife back had set him up and given his wife to another man.*

that night jack went to his room where he cleaned and loaded his .44 magnum handgun. he sat in his room. everyone else in his apartment was sleeping. he sat alone until he was able to accept the fact that he would most likely spend the rest of his life in prison. then he went to his truck to head over to kill the man who'd been seeing his wife.

jack sat in his truck, replaying the events in his head. how did i let them do this to me? how did i let them walk in and take my wife?

as he played things out in his mind, he was hit with a realization. if i kill this man and go to prison, it will justify their actions and beliefs. if i do this they win. they get to go on looking like they “rescued” my wife from me and i get to look like a psychopath.

jack went inside, put away his gun and called his family. though he'd been disconnected from them, they were happy to hear from him. his sister wired him money. it was time to go home.

jack was smart. he didn't say a word to anyone. he simply packed up his stuff and disappeared.

to this day, dana is still his one and only true love. but she is gone.

ain't no sunshine when she's gone
and this house just ain't no home
anytime she goes away ~bill withers

dude, i love you man.

***************

beneath the city two hearts beat
soul engines running through a night so tender
in a bedroom locked
in whispers of soft refusal
and then surrender

in the tunnels uptown
the rat's own dream guns him down
as shots echo down them hallways in the night
…
outside the street's on fire
in a real death waltz
between what's flesh and what's fantasy
and the poets down here
don't write nothing at all
they just stand back and let it all be

and in the quick of the night
they reach for their moment
and try to make an honest stand
but they wind up wounded
not even dead
tonight in jungleland ~bruce springsteen


the living room and kitchen were surrealistically bright from the arizona sun that passed through the windows. and although an air of nervousness also filled the rooms of our house, my wife and daughter were there. i had an opportunity that jack never had. i could talk to my wife, look her in the eyes, touch her. i could try to convince her to leave this place of wrath. i could share a vision of a free life, one that wouldn't be permeated with fear and anxiety. we could escape the drama, the constant life and death. this group, this lifestyle had torn us apart, i would tell her. we had lost ourselves. we had been stripped of any personal desire, passion, individuality. we had been beaten down like whores and turned out, devoid of humanity, constantly struggling, performing, in the hope that our actions would make us worthy recipients of a kind word, a smile, a gentle touch from our captors.

i, unlike jack, would tell my wife the truth i had discovered on a mountainside just a few nights ago...but not yet.




later that night, after we'd put roxanne to bed, we sat out back, facing the south, toward the distant santan mountains. they were there, but invisible to us, except in our collective imagination. behind us was the sliding glass door that led to our bedroom and our beautifully dressed king-sized bed. as we talked, i couldn't help but wonder whether we would end the night there, together. it would depend upon whether or not they had given her the green light.

the stars were overhead, exposing the inviting vastness of the universe, but they were were partially washed-out by a streetlight which hung overhead, in the distance, like an all-seeing eye or a spotlight, exposing us, making us vulnerable.

we talked about my first night out, when i was lost in the high desert...the coyotes. she told me how she'd lain awake in the bed behind us, our bed, knowing that i was lost, afraid i would never make it back.

she looked at me, silent, head slightly tilted, exposing her neck, as i told her of my experience. there was so much i couldn't say. i had thought about laying it all out, telling her that i had made a decision to leave, that we should pack up and leave together, tonight. but i also realized that she had been through too much already. i could tell that while i had been away she had been filled with fears and lies. she was obviously relieved that i'd come back. i feared that if i told her the truth, it would be too much for her, that it would push her over the edge.

so i stuck to lesser truths, or greater ones. i talked of my personal transformation. i told her about the courage i'd gained, about connecting with myself. i explained how i'd felt her presence. i talked about the value of being alone. there were parts i couldn't explain and there were those things that, when i put them into words, began to lose meaning. so i became silent.

she moved closer to me and placed her long, tan leg across my thigh. i put my arm around her and she placed her head on my shoulder. the light caused her profile to become a silhouette. i could make out the shape of her red lips, slightly parted as my hand drifted up and down her arm.

she looked up at me, into my eyes. i squeezed her more tightly. she held my eyes with hers. i moved my lips toward hers, then paused. i moved closer, within an inch or two. she closed her eyes. i paused again, intoxicated by her essence. i kissed her.

her skin was smooth and dark against the creme-colored sheets on our bed. we became wholly connected, body and spirit, weightless, as if we were floating through the night sky. we were enmeshed and enraptured, immersed in this moment, oblivious to all things past, unrelenting in a timeless embrace.

exhausted and energized, i gently stroked her hair as her rested head on my heart. we drifted off to sleep.

****************

my heart was beating furiously. i couldn't breath. i stopped and bent forward, trying to catch my breath. there were formless, clouds of blackness all around me and as i ran through them i was blinded by the darkness. shadowed figures loomed in the darkness, stepping into the gaps of grayish light between the dark clouds, reaching for me, then stepping back as if they were mysteriously forbidden from fully exposing themselves to the light.

i continued to run, trying to avoid the dark clouds and shadowed figures, running though the gaps of grayish light, an endless maze.

overhead, a football-shaped, metallic object floated, chasing me. in the middle of the football there was a round lens. the football-shaped metallic object would float through the tops of the dark clouds as it followed me, moving in and out of the clouds, disappearing and reappearing as it moved in and out of the light.

i had to get to the hispanic woman at the little grocery store. she was standing behind the counter, smiling, in a trance, eyes glazed over. i had left my gun on the shelf underneath the counter. i had to get my gun. i had to shoot the lens.

to avoid the lens, i dropped my right shoulder and plowed through the darkness, intent on leveling any shadowed figure i happened to encounter. meeting no resistance, i barreled through and out the other side of the dark cloud and losing my balance, i fell forward.

i awoke with a start. shadows on the ceiling. my beautiful wife lies beside me, her head still on my heart. she is on her side and the light is peeking through the blinds, illuminating the curve of her waist and hip. her leg is stretched across tops of my thighs and bent into a 'v' shape at knee, so that the tops of her red, painted toes rest against the outside of my upper calf.

she is resting peacefully, oblivious. i am awake.

i want to awaken her...to tell her everything. i want to allow her to continue sleeping. i want to cherish this moment. tomorrow, they will ask her about this night. they will want every detail. they will analyze and interpret everything that took place. she will tell them everything, because she believes it's the right thing to do. she will assign the victory to them. they will tell her their plan worked—that i had gone to the desert and found myself. they will not suspect that i have become an interloper.

it kills me to allow her to go back to them, to allow her to be subjected to their lies. they will continue to draw her in, while i, in turn, will wait for my opportunity to rescue her...rescue us. they will build her up, encourage her to continue the spiritual path that they dictate. this “victory” will galvanize her commitment to their doctrine. although it draws us closer tonight, it will ultimately be used to draw her further into their fold, to give them even more control.

they will claim to have saved our family. in time, they will use that power to tear us apart, again. they will say that they had worked miracles to bring us together and that i, being toxic, destroyed everything. they will point to all of the suffering my wife had endured, my absence while in the santan mountains, her fear that i would never return. they will claim that she had welcomed me home and into our bed, creating the perfect environment for me to “change.” they will tell her to be angry, unforgiving, claiming that she had done everything, sacrificed herself, her body, her spirit out of love for me...and that i had selfishly insulted her by returning to my spiritually destructive ways.

even as i lie awake, with my wife beside me, i know this will be their course of action. i don't know when it will happen, but i know that it will. it is their nature, their way.

i have to beat them at their game. i will be the perfect follower, giving testimony to the spiritual wisdom of bob and his wife. i will sit at their feet. i'll work even harder to add to their wealth. i'll jump through every hoop. still, i know it won't be enough. at some point, they will knock me down again. they will find some action, interpret some statement of mine, analyze my body language and determine that i have brought bad karma into the fold. most likely, they will experience a setback and blame it on me.

i know it will come; i just don't know when. but i will be vigilant. i will watch them, their mannerisms, their statements and body language. when i see it coming, i will flank them. i'll endure whatever i have to endure to rescue my family. i'll take whatever abuse they throw at me. rope-a-dope. i am no sociopath, but i will become one...at least for now. i have one advantage; without my family, i have nothing to lose.

but, there is one part that is nearly intolerable. after they fully draw in my wife, after they grant her reprieve, provide her with sweet sanctuary, they will try to take me down. when they fail, they will bludgeon her. they will strip her of everything they have given her. they will shove her overboard and ostracize her, watching her desperately struggle to stay afloat. she will be wounded, but not dead. and here's the rub: once they have beaten her down, when she is consumed with shame and fear, that's when i will finally be able to tell her the truth.

after they beat her within an inch of her life, rape her (but before they can demonize me and build her back up) i will intervene. that is the time when a cult victim is reachable. that is when i will talk to her about cults, how they operate, how this group meets every criteria of a dangerous and destructive cult. i will remind her of our years together. i will remind her of this night. i will tell her about the secret that i could not share with her even as i held her in my arms.

still, how could they do this to this loving, vulnerable young woman? how can i let it happen? it is only because i know that she they will continue to destroy her, over and over, as long as she stays. is there any way to spare her?

i look at the woman i love, head on my heart. i gently touch the angel's cheek. i can feel her breath on my chest. i am enchanted, anguished, liberated, imprisoned. holding her in my arms, i lie.

to be continued



* i think it's important to note that the atlanta director was an innocent. he was a victim just like jack and dana. his communication with jack was limited and censored by the powers in the program. he also believed that dana had ended the relationship without any prompting and without any hint of coercion, as did dana. he was certain that jack and dana's relationship was over for good, because that's what he'd been told. he was also encouraged to get involved with dana by the people who had “saved him from addiction” and guided him spiritually since his teenage years. there are other factors that absolve both dana and the atlanta director which i will not disclose in order to preserve their dignity.