U Is for Undertow

believe a word of it, but she assured him it was natural to block trauma of that magnitude. We didn’t know any of this at the time. It all came out later.”
    “Shit.”
    “Shit is right.” Diana shook her head. “Marty continued to work with him and, little by little, the ugly ‘truth’ came out. She was using hypnosis and guided imagery to help him recover his ‘repressed’ memories, sometimes with the aid of sodium amytal.”
    “Truth serum.”
    “That’s correct. Next thing we knew, she’d diagnosed him with multiple personality disorder. As luck would have it—now here’s a happy coincidence—she ran an MPD support group, which Michael joined. More cash changed hands, his to hers. Meanwhile, my parents were blissfully unaware of what was happening. My brothers and I were out of the house by then so we saw much less of him than they did. After three months, Michael started seeing her twice a week and talking to her on the phone three and four times a day. He didn’t eat. He scarcely slept. We could see that, psychologically, he was disintegrating, coming apart at the seams, but we thought his getting worse was part of the process of getting better. Little did we know. She persuaded him it would be ‘healing’ if he confronted the past, which he did with a vengeance. He accused my father of molesting him from the time he was eight months old. He had these shadowy memories that he knew were real. Soon, his hazy mental movie came into focus and he ‘remembered’ my mother was also in on the abuse. Next thing you know, my younger brother Ryan was added to the list. We’re talking nasty stuff—claims of satanic ritual, bestiality, animal sacrifice, you name it.”
    “Sounds preposterous.”
    “Of course. What made it worse was my parents had no way to defend themselves. Any attempt they made to refute his claims only served to reinforce his conviction that they were guilty as charged. Marty told him abusers always deny what they’ve done. He moved out of the house, cutting off all contact, which was actually a relief. Then she talked him into collaborating on a book and that’s what blew the lid off.
    “When Mom and Dad got wind of it, they hired an attorney and sued the crap out of her for slander and defamation. The night before they were set to go to trial, they reached a settlement. I don’t know the terms because they signed a confidentiality agreement. Whatever it was, my parents were never able to collect a cent. Marty filed for bankruptcy and that’s the last anybody ever heard from her. For all we know, she’s still in private practice only somewhere else.”
    “I don’t get it. Why would she do such a thing?”
    “Because she could. She saw it as part of her job. In her eyes, she did no wrong. When they took her pretrial deposition, do you know what she said? That even if his story wasn’t true, she was there to validate his feelings. If he was convinced he was abused as a child, then she would support him in his beliefs. In other words, if you think you were abused, you were, and that’s all it takes.”
    “Without proof?”
    “She didn’t need proof. She said if that was ‘his truth,’ he could depend on her to keep the faith.”
    “Did the family doctor who referred him know what she was up to?”
    “In his deposition he admitted he’d never met her. She’d been recommended by another doctor whose opinion he respected. In a way, it was beside the point. You don’t need a doctor’s referral to see a therapist. Just look in the yellow pages and pick anyone you like. Some of them even have little boxes advertising their specialties. Self-esteem issues, crisis counseling, anger management, stress, panic attacks. The list goes on and on. Who among us hasn’t experienced the occasional rage or anxiety?”
    “How do you know which therapists are legitimate?”
    “I have no idea. I’ve never been in therapy. I’m sure most of them are honest and capable. Some might even be skilled, but sexual abuse is like a siren call. There’s a ton of money to be made.”
    “That’s a bit cynical, isn’t it?”
    “Not as cynical as you might think. Suppose you go into therapy because your relationships aren’t working out the way you’d hoped. Turns out that’s a symptom of early childhood abuse. Write me a check and come back next week. You don’t remember what was done? That’s called being ‘in denial.’ You’ve repressed the memory because it was all so