The Sandbox

Amnesia, Art, Healing




It wasn’t my fault. 

The complaint is done. I printed out the form and penciled everything in so that I know what to do when I go online. I am scared though. Completely prepared, ready to hit send, and very scared. 


What’s scaring you?


Feeling like Eileen will feel like no good deed goes unpunished. Here she worked so hard to try and do the best she could—read and encouraged the Sandbox—got a consultant who became a supervisor because she was so challenged—and I eventually terminate and, years later, file a complaint. 

I loved her—well as much as you can genuinely love someone when you're steeped in a state of transference and wrenching dependency. She loved me back—some of the time except when she was being passive aggressive and became distant and angry and cold and acted out. 

In the end, psychologically, she lit a need-fire inside of me and neither of us could put it out. 


She lit the fire—not you. And it was her responsibility to put it out which she proved incapable of doing. 





It wasn’t my fault. 



Last night we hit send

It wasn’t real pretty.

It wasn’t easy.

But it wasn’t all that shitty.

We sent our complaint

Up, up, and away to the Board.

When Eileen gets it she’ll be floored. 


Thank you, Monkey. 


De nada. 


S? How do you feel?


It took two tries, A. The first time I got everything ready and I couldn’t hit send. I thought sending it would re-connect me to Eileen. So I hit delete and walked away. For an hour. And then, I re-entered all the information and sat staring at the send button, thought about all the time I’d spent—years—dealing with the pain of what happened, thought of times Eileen was nice to me and the times where she was mean and careless. 

I realized that, at best, even when she loved me, that this too was careless. 

And then, without the fear I had the first time, I simply without any fuss, hit send. 


How did it feel?


I nearly immediately felt relief. Like I had taken an enormous weight and moved it off my shoulders and onto someone else’s. It was like leaving a really tough job, finally, after years and years of it, not knowing how heavy the burden was until I removed the load off my back. 

And where I feared I would be haunted by knowing eventually this complaint will be something Eileen reads and must deal with, I don’t feel much of that. I feel relief. I don’t know why or how it works but I feel like I’ve done my part, done enough, done my “job” and now I can do another job, play another part, do something else. I’ve walked a thousand miles to get to this place where I believe I am shedding myself of maybe not the whole experience but of taking on so much in the way of responsibility for it and for understanding it and for healing it. 




I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Or the next day. I only know that what I feared most, having regrets, has not materialized. 

Blanket, I’d like to check in with you?


Good morning S, A and Monkey. And Shard. 




Eileen had this coming. For a very, very long time. She’s an unwell person and an incompetent therapist who should not be practicing. It is my hunch that the games she’s been playing with clients she’s been playing for years, privately, un-caught, and our game got out of hand. She’s used that little office of hers to prop up her ego, to tell herself how grand and brilliant she is, to prove to others and her own self that she’s an Einstein and a Mother Teresa both when it comes to helping people. 

But we bring the light of day and truth into at least one little corner of this world. 

And oh Not Gods we did not go gently into this good night. 

She’ll be paying now for making us suffer in that therapy for years—and outside of it too. 

No matter the outcome of this complaint, and believe me, there will be an unhappy outcome for her, we have won. 

We are healthier and stronger. 

We have learned to breathe through a lot of pain and confusion and chaos. We've been forced to learn. And learn we have.



We will always write

But it’s important too to speak.

We stopped our cowering

Acting scared and acting meek.

We took a deep breath

We took the reins.

Things are different.

Things have changed.

We’ll see how we feel

Like we do every day.

For now let us celebrate

Doing things a new way.


My new pieces...all open their mouths...and all of them...speak. 

My new pieces...all open their mouths...and all of them...speak.