Yet, like wildfire far beyond the office of our therapist, Rick manages to cause everyone I’ve known to turn against me like vipers. In less than a month those who were on the fence have jumped to his side concerning our issues and the rumors Rick has spread.

The respected, elite, position I held in the Detroit area was gone.

My daughters, totally in defense of their father and stepfather, are saying, “You are not allowed to see Clayton (my grandson) nor any grandchildren to come. You’re sick.” With this I invite my girls to join me, in a session, together involving Dr. Danieloff so that they’ll hear the truth, but they refuse. This leaves me now positioned to take drastic measures.

Christiané, my once-a-Dior-model-and-past-Parson’s-professor-of-fashion-design-teacher, advises that I move forward with my art, which will save my life. Larry supports me over the phone from California, in kindness, patience, and wisdom. We talk about what I should do.

“Debbie you must get out of that house. I fear Rick will try to kill you again. If he has guns, hide them.”

Though I have no real clue as to why my life is falling apart, I cling to the advice of people who are allowing me to be myself…at the moment. I feel like I’m losing my mind, yet try to keep it together while things calm down for awhile as I work my ass off to regain the respect I’d earned over the years. And, it works well enough for a few months. Then the issues flare up all over again through Rick’s well-planned efforts.

Deep down I know I’m being “gaslighted” by Rick, as he continues to twist everything I say or do. This method of manipulation is shown in an old movie with Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer, called Gaslight. I remember the method from seeing the film when I was nothing more than a child. Interestingly, no one I know seems to understand what the word means, which doesn’t help.