Editor’s note: A Lovefraud reader, we’ll call her Betty, sent her story. It’s a tale of a run-in with a female psychopath who likes to destroy people for the fun of it.
I got divorced and moved from Texas to California. I was 45 years old, and was hoping to transition from my career as an RN. I’d worked in the newborn nursery and the increasing numbers of drug dependent newborns were breaking my heart — I was experiencing burnout. I tried physical rehabilitation for adults, but that too brought me in contact with awful suffering, and I didn’t have enough to give my patients. I had a painful divorce and a painful career, and made the decision to pull myself together and start over. That’s when I met the person I think is a female psychopath.
I interviewed in the art history department of a large university, with the then-graduate adviser, Dr. Wilma (not her real name). I didn’t understand then how fragile I was, but I feel certain she knew in an instant. The fixed stare was there — I thought at the time, “What an intent, alert, person with so much energy!” I felt flattered that she seemed so interested in me. Writing that, I still feel a creepiness, sense of shame at being taken in, and a curling fear in the pit of my stomach.
Perfect victim
I craved attention, though I would have denied it. Looking back at my life, I can see how I trained over the course of it to be a perfect victim for abuse. My dad was an alcoholic, the mean drunk kind, and my mom was so gently needy. The overall feeling in our house was one of walking on eggshells, and the message to me was, “try hard and fail” because my older brother was the “successful, responsible child” so that left me with the “failure” role. My first husband was emotionally distant, and so was my second — I poured myself into those relationships, and of course, I cared deeply while each of them did not, and the colder they were, the harder I tried, and tried. And I found a job just as destructive and abusive as those personal relationships. So when I interviewed for the art history department, I badly needed some confidence and a sense of achievement. I’d also had a couple of bouts of situational depression, following the death of my parents, and after getting divorced.
Dr. Wilma seemed drawn to me at once: She’d call me to come in early to her office, heap praise on me to other teachers, strategize with me over my academic future (she felt I should get a doctorate and teach at university, “Just like me”) — she acted like a close friend and benefactor, and we’d only just met. Deep down inside, I was uncomfortable. I was making straight “A’s” but I’d done that routinely as an adult, and I genuinely loved art history, and found tremendous pleasure in studying it and discussing it — but still, I was a beginner in the field, and I couldn’t get over the fact that she was talking to me as though I was a peer. The other feeling was slower to surface: She seemed to be looking at me in a calculating, almost predatory way, and it seemed strangely almost sexual and at the same time, had the stamp of ownership. I can’t express it any better than that. She’d compliment me, but then say things like, “You walked into my office with interest, but no real academic talent, but I thought, why not? I’ll give her a class! See how far you’ve come!” Not an insult based in reality, but not a compliment based in reality, either, because I was a solidly good student, and I had achieved a nursing education and professional license, and a bachelor’s in psychology after that.
My mentor
Soon she invited me to walk her dogs with her in the mornings, and I slowly began to see how controlling she was. The animals were hyper and had to be constantly engaged or they’d get into trouble. I’m a cat person, so I didn’t understand you have to constantly stimulate and over stimulate most dogs to get them to be that hyperactive. She’d ask my opinions, but then she’d make “suggestions,” which meant “do it or else.” Over the next few years, I committed to specializing in art history, on her appraisal of me as an “excellent student who’s going to make a wonderful teacher,” I took on the burden of student loans — and I put my Texas nursing license on retirement, and didn’t activate it in California or take continuing education in that area to keep the license active. Dr. Wilma let me know that nursing wasn’t really a profession, and with a bright future as an academic, I didn’t need it. I had a “mentor” now to take me over the road of thesis writing and guide me into a wonderful teaching career.
I was really so stupidly, inexcusably naive! She told me what I wanted to hear — that I’d have a new career if I continued to work hard, and that I had a mentor I could depend on to help guide me through the intricacies of academia. Exam after exam came back marked “A,” with praise written in the margins for my “fine work.” Papers, too, received “A’s,” and the criticism lead me to believe my writing skills were well up to standard, and constantly improving, as I was striving to do. She wanted me to visit her office almost daily, wrote long and frequent emails, she’d phone me at home for lengthy calls — and one day, I began to feel (though I shoved that down quickly as well) that I was almost being courted in a creepy way…and it felt weird, off and not right somehow. But how could I complain? She was charming, so eager to “help” me find my way, I felt at a disadvantage academically and I worked frequently twelve hours a day writing and reading, trying to master my chosen field of study. I didn’t want other students to know she “favored” me so extensively because I’ve always earned my way. I felt ashamed at possibly taking advantage.
Always a home
She invited me to her house, and told me, “You’ll always have a home here,” and again, it felt off… it was too much, too soon. In addition, there was something there in that the words didn’t match the lack of emotion in her voice and in her expression — her words seemed somehow rehearsed. But how could I be so ungracious? I so longed for kindness, and I so appreciated it…my eyes welled up with tears … and she smiled. It was not a kind smile, but a one-sided curl of a lip, a cruel smile that didn’t reach her eyes. As I mentioned, I have a bachelor’s in psychology, but even at that lower level without clinical study except in nursing, how could I not have known?
She wanted me to house sit and watch her dogs for a week while she and her husband went on holiday. She’d pay me $300, and having put every penny into school, I needed the job. By this time, I’d finished all the bachelor’s level courses and was well into graduate level work — I only had a year and a half left before I could get my Master’s and could begin my dream of teaching art history in community college. I was also $40,000 in debt with student loans.
The dogs were a nightmare to care for and had to be watched every minute because they were so hyper they’d tear up the house and garden. Now I understand they’d been trained this way in response to their owner. I didn’t get much sleep because they required so much attention, but they were fed, watered, exercised, groomed — in response to the 10 pages of instructions she issued, and her house was cleaned, laundry done, and everything left as found. I’d been instructed not to wait for the them to arrive home, but to leave the evening of their arrival, two hours before they returned.
Flier in the driveway
Three days later, I got a phone call from Dr. Wilma. I was instructed to come to her office very early the first day of school following break. I went into her office, and she asked me to wait there while she went to her car and brought her dogs in (she always brought her dogs to school in spite of rules of no dogs on campus). She brought the dogs in, she looked at her watch, she closed the door and I can only say that she transformed entirely right before my eyes. I’ve worked in psychiatric lock up wards in the course of my nurse’s training, and I thought I’d seen pretty much everything, but I saw a self-possessed, controlled and controlling, smooth, charming, poised academic turn into a snarling, spitting monster within literally a second. I feared for my life, sat in a chair backed into a corner, the dogs now cowering and whining at my feet. She advanced on me, screaming at the top of her lungs, “You betrayed me! I can’t believe I brought that (meaning me) from my university into my house!” It seems I had left a newspaper, one of the little local fliers, in her driveway and not collected it and placed it on her kitchen table with the rest of the mail. She went on for a full fifteen minutes, screaming that I was “crazy” (I had confided to her about my instances of depression), and more abuse that I’ve frankly and thankfully blocked out, because what I remember of what she shrieked at me was horrible and I’ll never repeat most of it to anyone. My hand shook, but I wrote out a check for the $300 and returned every bit of her money. It was only my training, and probably experience as an abused child, that allowed me to remain calm, size up the room, locate something that could be utilized as a defensive weapon should the need arise, and calculate that I could fit though the window. She was physically blocking the door. I heard my own voice from far away say absolutely calmly, “I AM leaving now,” and I will never know how I got up on shaking legs and made it through the door.
Swore to ruin me
She swore to ruin me, and she did. Her co-workers and underlings (the department is small and only had two other full-time professors) were so under her thumb and so like her that there was no place to go in the department. I couldn’t get an appointment with the dean to state my case or make a complaint or appeal — I was told I could only see her with Dr. Wilma’s approval, “She’s a very nice lady,” the dean’s secretary said, “I’m certain she’ll help you sort out whatever it is.” Camping out in the dean’s office didn’t yield an appointment, either. The Ombudsman promised help — only to reveal straight away in the meeting that, “I have no real power here and all records of this meeting are the property of the university.” I had taken my qualifying examination, the last step before thesis writing, and waited for 8 weeks to get my results, and still couldn’t find out if I’d passed or failed. Appointments weren’t kept, then they were rescheduled and not kept again. Finally, around the tenth week, the Ombudsman called me for a meeting with faculty. Dr.Wilma had brought the other two full-time professors with her, and they were all in attack mode. For two and a half hours, I was soundly verbally abused and called names — the Ombudsman gave up trying to control or run the meeting, and exhibited shaking hands. “You can’t just pay for a degree — you have to earn it. We owe you nothing — it’s 100 percent all on you now…What do you want from us?” Dr. Wilma demanded. “I want to know the status of my qualifying examination,” I replied, “No one will tell me.” “Well I’ve just decided right now, this minute: you fail!”
After they left, and I could finally cry, the Ombudsman said she’d only done counseling of sexual abuse patients, and this was her first case in an academic setting, and she said she’d never seen anything like it. It left me bereft of my belief in the virtues of the university, of learning, and to a very great extent, in human goodness. I felt my insides crumble that day. I was flat out. I broke.
I tried going to another university, driving three hours to another school. I did well in my classes and applied for acceptance in their graduate program. I was told it looked good because my transcript and submitted paper and interview had all been promising. But I’d told them the basics of the truth when the committee chair asked why I left the previous university. They phoned, spoke to Dr. Wilma, and you can guess the rest. After what I was told by a professor was the longest meeting in their history of considering a candidate (three hours), they decided not to believe my performance, the evidence of my character, my skills, or interest in art history and love of education — they believed Dr. Wilma when she told them I was crazy.
Crushed
That happened two years ago. I’ve been deeply depressed and felt worthless and hollow since. It truly crushed me, though I wish it hadn’t. I’m broke, and it left me $45,000 in student debts and no degree, so I cannot teach and have nothing to show for a tremendous amount of work. There was no appeal at the school, and lawyers apparently don’t take cases like this, especially on contingency. Reactivating my RN license and bringing it current in California would be tremendously expensive. I began to come out of shock very slowly, and began to meditate, face and recognize the pattern of being a victim — not that I ever deserved this situation, but how I was in fact an ideal candidate for it. I processed the pain of being the child of an alcoholic, an abused spouse, and having survived burnout from a tough profession. I grieved for my lost financial security, my almost new career and how much I truly loved teaching, I grieved for the good will that died in my soul when those three women worked me over in the Ombudsman’s office while the Ombudsman (a certified counselor) stood by and let it happen. I grieved for myself that I didn’t stand up more and tell them off! That I wanted something so badly that I allowed myself to be demeaned by three ethically deficit “teachers.”
I began Tibetan Buddhist meditation, and sought to learn to forgive. I believe in the healing power of forgiveness, but I’m stumped because I’ve seen something evil. I can only forgive as an intellectual act — my spirit is stuck and it’s very painful. I’ve cried buckets of tears and “LET GO” over and over, and I will do until I have healed. I now trust myself to build a new life, but at 55 years, it’s going to be hard to get a job where I’ve no experience, especially in this economy. I could have taught for a good 20 years, paid my student debt, and provided for myself, but things look bleak now.
Armed with knowledge
I know that there are so many people who have lost so much more than I have. I know it, reading these posts, I realize it I’m actually lucky because it could have been so much worse. If nothing else, I am now armed with knowledge, and can hopefully walk on by the next ruinous person I encounter without letting them into my life. But I will always be shaken by this devastation — not by a lover or a spouse, but by a trusted, respected, and admired teacher. And I still feel ashamed, and like it was somehow my fault — until I read your posts.
Thanks you, Donna, for listening to my story. It’s healing somehow, and it helps me to know that I will recover from this. It has given me understanding and compassion for those who live with this these fundamentally lacking individuals. I so admire their strength and courage to survive and rebuild their lives, and also the genuine love and support evidenced on your site.
Learn more: Comprehensive 7-part recovery series presented by Mandy Friedman, LPCC-S
Lovefraud originally posted this article on March 4, 2009.
How knowing the truth about sociopaths changes everything
MATT,
Have you taken any consideration on my “job offer”? Thanks again for a good post with some good legal advice to Betty! I agree that going after them, especially with her EXCELLENT grades, etc. should give her some standing. ALSO I think she needs to speak to the president of the university (maybe through her attorney?) about being used as Dr. Wilma’s personal servant and house sitter WITHOUT PAY. She has the check she gave Dr. Wilma to return the “money.” It is obvious that WILMA didn’t pay her and also, that paying or not paying someone for LABOR, isn’t that a violation of fair employment acts of some kind?
Thanks again for some great advice!!!! ((((hugs)))))
OxDrover:
Appreciated your job offer. Am sort of afraid of what kind of hornet’s nest I might stir up practisicing onlne outside of my jurisdiction. But, I’m perfectly happy to work pro bono on this site while I can still pay my mortgage!
Betty, agree that you need to see the president of the university — but with your attorney. At this point you’ve got nothing to be gain and everything to lose by pursuing this on your own.
I believe it was US Supreme Court Justice Brandeis who said “sunlight is the best disinfectant.” Any organization which is harboring a sociopath absolutely fears having its complicity in protecting the sociopath uncovered.
The more I think about it, the more I know in my gut Wilma has left a trail of victims behind her. I still believe you need to see a lawyer to protect your legal rights here.
I’m also beginning to think you should go to the media on this story. Hell, if I were you I would go to the paper on your former campus — students are always looking to cut their teeth on an interesting story. Whatever media outlet you go to, a story like yours always seems to flush out other victims.
Matt,
I hesitated suggesting the media, because that changes the game. It becomes public and a public relations war, which I don’t think is in Betty’s interest before a suit is filed.
Part of the leverage Betty has is the university’s natural fear of publicity on this matter. If word gets around that the university is unethical or abusive in its treatment of students, the repercussions could be very, very serious.
Once the suit is filed, I’d get all the press attention possible. In a crunch, it might be a necessary tactic to attract correspondents in a class action, but it wouldn’t be my first choice.
Short-term, I think a couple classified ads seeking those correspondents for a suit against the university for breach of contract, academic coercion and manipulation of grades could be very effective in lighting a fire under them. (You could probably come up with better wording.)
Actually those ads are likely to attract press attention. Which they would also be perfectly aware of. More reason for them to look for a settlement.
Kathy
Kathy:
I agree. I should have been more clear about that — Betty don’t get the media involved until you haves your legal ducks lined up in a row.
Kathy’s idea of classified ads are a good idea. However, since my father was in academia, I know how big institutions of higher learning are on hush-hush and quietly driving their problems off campus and preferably out of state. That’s why I think you may need to go internet.
I am not blog literate. However, I know that there is a blog or two out there against my former employer. One of the conditions of my severance package was that I not say mean things about my former employer in public (except they wrote it in legalese, of course).
Since academic departments are always a hotbed of gossip, I am sure you probably heard rumors regarding Wilma’s former “proteges” — and dismissed them. AFter all, she was treating you “wonderfully” so why would you believe them? You need to tap into that network, sooner rather than later.
Betty, bottom line is there is strength in numbers. At my first law firm, I thought I was the only victim of the sociopathic monster who made my life a living hell. Actually, I was. It was well-know my monster had his personal whipping-boy and he didn’t let up until that person fled the firm. And then he’d move onto another whipping boy.
To this day, whenever I need a recommendation, that firm gives me a glowing one. And often they say “we were stunned when he left. We had no idea that this partner was causing him so many problems.”
Yeah, right. Fact of the matter is that they were all shielding him because it was to their benefit (10 million in annual billings) to do so. And it was, until the cost became to high (spending lots of money to train associates who all then ran for the door, first chance they got) and the bad reputation the firm was gaining made it more cost effective to get rid of their problem — the sociopath.
If I knew then what I knew now, I would have sued the bastards. But, I was new to the profession and didn’t think I could afford to make enemies. The psychic and physical toll on me were horrific, however. It took me years before I even began to regain my self-confidence in my profession.
In your case, the cost-benefits analysis is obvious. This woman killed your career. You cannot work in your chosen profession. You are sitting on a pile of debt which needs to be paid. So, you must make them pay.
Do some on-line research. I know in Connecticut, in the last year or so, a student sued Central Connecticut State University and won. If I remember the facts correctly, he had written a paper and was thrown out of the university for allegedly commiting plagarism.
As came out in the end, he was not the one who committed plagarism. In fact, the shining star A student, who he was accused of plagarizing from had in fact lifted HIS ideas. The whole thing got very ugly and hit the papers. The poor student ended up vindicated. He was in your shoes — he had nothing left to lose.
See what you can find out about his story. It may have the name of his lawyers in there. If you contact them, they may be able to point you in the right direction or to help in your state.
I also believe there was a case in California, involving USC. But, my memory is more hazy.
In any case, the “conduct unbecoming an institution of higher learning” lawsuits are becoming more popular, so you should be able to get some leads on lawyers etc.
Years ago my step-son was physically brutalized by 3 traffic cops, who put him into the hospital with severely perforated skull (they used jail-keys as “brass knuckles”) he ended up getting menongitis and almost dying. He WAS severely brain damaged afterwards.
My husband secured an attorney and sued the city of Santa Maria, California. When news of the suit came out, several other other former victms (one in a wheel chair) came forward and contacted our attorney. The city settled “out of court” for a considerable sum of money, enough to take care of my step son for the rest of his life, as he was functionally working with an IQ of less than 70 afterwards, though he still had a verbal IQ of 120. He had no judgment and was totally unable to work at anything. His life was destroyed over a parking ticket! I realize that this is extreme compared to the college prof’s behavior, but she has “destroyed” one person, and I would BET the farm there are other victims out there.
These people never attack one person and quit, and when they are in a position of power over the lives and careers of others (and oh, boy, do they ever love those positions!) like a cop, boss, professor etc they NEED to be stopped if possible.
At least these three P-cops in a small town lost their jobs as a result of the huge settlement my step son got. He died 3 years later as an indirect result of the brain damage. At least his kid was taken care of financially.
Matt, I notice that other attorneys and therapists, doctors, etc. “practice” consultation over the phone and via internet connections. Check it out! Might as well get some compensation and you can still do some pro bono stuff! Nuff said, I won’t nag any more….for now! LOL
OxDrover:
I’m happy not charging the people on this site for whatever help I can give them — actually, they pay my my fee threefold by having to listen to my rants when I get my dander up about S!!!
Dear Betty,
I just had enough time to read your story and type this response. Here ya go:
The biggest problem I’d had after I’d finally ’collapsed’ (PTSD) after my 3 workplace sociopathic encounters, was being able to visualize all of the options which I still had open to me. At the time, my perception was such, that every avenue I looked down appeared to be either closed off, or fraught with unseen dangers. But in hindsight I realize that this was not entirely true. I was doing much of this to myself. I did have options open, and my reputation could still be repaired, if I handled things intelligently.
Years ago, my last S was succeeding in her process of getting me fired and then blackballed, by using the ’insanity offense’ (as in, I was insane, therefore undesirable and to be removed and blackballed). This is a standard sociopathic tactic, which falls back on the naiveté that most people have regarding superhuman fearlessness as being ’safer and saner’ than the more normal anxious behaviors which result from abnormal stress. This person had tried to undermine my intelligence, integrity, work ethic, anything… but I’d batted down each and every challenge to my reputation. But the stress of daily political battle was getting to me, the physical effects visible to others, and the latest attack on my ’sanity’ gained traction.
I then did what was a smart thing, if I say so myself. I knew that a few people in that stressed and paranoid crew at that job would do research on ’threatening’ or unknown employees. I also knew of easily discovered evidence, which would suggest that I had ’a demonstrable relationship’ with the vice-president of that companies chief rival. It didn’t matter that I never actually knew the guy, the evidence itself was all I needed. I then ’leaked’ to my neighbor who I knew to be a rumor hound, that management (S was one) was behind smearing my character because they’d found out about my relationship with that rival V.P. Within one day, the body language of ostracization and ridicule, which I’d grown accustomed to, changed into apologetic smiles, “Good Mornings”, and frightened grins. Amazing the power of the rumor mill when it’s coupled with human imagination. Some people even apologized. A couple guys even confided in me that “bad management is this companies’ whole problem”. I had to burn that bridge in order to protect my reputation in that business.
Nevertheless, after that job I still ’collapsed’ from all that stress. I dropped completely out of sight and did odd jobs and other stuff. But I was letting my fears get the best of me. There were opportunities but I refused them. Nobody could figure out what was the matter with me. The years went by and my wife and family abandoned me. Then one day I simply put my name back into the job pot and was immediately hired within my career field. I had presented the interviewing supervisor a single spaced page full of my references, people I’d done right by, and she recognized some names. And then I was in, just like that.
But the battle wasn’t over. My first project manager, an insecure yet ethical type who relied on his vast experience more than creative brainpower, refused to take me based on what he’d heard about my reputed ’insanity’. He went through three guys, before the supervisor finally forced him to take me. When the timing was right, we had a lunch conversation where he revealed that he had heard bad things about me from a close associate of my S. I was ready for this. I presented him with my reference list, saying “I’ll go with whatever any of these guys says about me”. I then presented him with a printout of a patent which my S had stolen from a ’normal employee’, who had actually created and developed that idea, along with his name. I then said: “In a better world dirty players would never succeed”. Shortly after, the PM gave me my big chance at serious responsibility, and I didn’t let him down. His project came in under budget and on time.
The moral of my long story: there’s always a way to battle sociopathy, and win, if you believe in yourself and give yourself the chance. If I was you, I’d be using hard evidence of your qualities, such as that transcript full of A’s, for starters. Then do I’d some serious homework, and not the book kind. You’ll be good at it, guaranteed. You may have to make up a plausible reason about why you left the previous university. Get to know or be reacquainted with other ethical art instructors, or similar in that field. If you’re like me, you’ll be amazed at how different your reality is from your fears. There’s also always a way to exact excellent revenge, but I don’t think they want me to get into that stuff anymore around here.
Thank you so much for what you’ve had to say! I had NO IDEA what it would feel like to be listened to, and believed! I kept thinking, “I must have caused this in some way…HOW could this happen if I hadn’t made some mistakes?” But it did happen, and yes of course I made mistakes, but nothing that deserved this. No one deserves to be treated like that, ever, because it’s just flat out wrong.
Hopeful: You said, “Sometimes you have to rein in intelligence, gentleness, and genuine kindness because it is going to make people hate you, or target you.” Yeah, it might, but something I’ve been learning from reading this incredible sight is that as we learn about ourselves, face ourselves and the patterns in our lives, become better educated about dysfunctions and predators, it’s possible to take that target sign off our backs! The blind spots we learned to develop (and you’ve just read a catalog of mine) lessen as understanding increases. Hang onto those good parts! I’ve been reading Kathleen Hawk’s “After the Sociopath” series and it’s helping me with this stuff, because it’s really hard to feel like your best can open you up to the worst in others.
Elizabeth Conley: I’m already thinking of educational options, and continue to study and learn daily. There are some things they can’t take away! (Yea!) But like you, I’ve learned universities are not what they say they are. I think I view them more realistically, and see their faults and virtues more clearly, and that’s a good thing. Best wishes, and kick tush with that teaching certificate!
Jim in Indiana: Dude, small things are good clues. But we want to trust, don’t we? Hence the blind spots, I guess. Concerning terrifying rages: Dr. Wilma told me to be at her office, went entirely bahooties, and then (after I was reduced to jello), exactly at the time the cleaning staff and the slide librarian arrive, she flipped it off instantaneously, like a light switch! That sounds like she was in control of the rage, which is something I’m still struggling to understand, but it’s an interesting puzzle piece.
OxDrover: Thank you for the story about your nursing faculty advisor. It helped really a lot! “These people never attack one person and quit,” you’ve said, and that really blew me away! The department was both a hot bed of gossip but incredibly secretive, so everyone is fearful of the consequences (and I entirely understand their fear), but that gives the Dr. Ws of this world much too much power.
Kathleen Hawk: Right now I’m overwhelmed! It’s going to take me some time to process your advice — you’ve given me A LOT of strong actions to think about. I’m very grateful, and I’m going to have to take some time to digest it. Thank you so much for talking to me like I’m a capable person because I have been one, and hope to be one again soon.
Let me emphasize that no one had advised me to take any action, plus I’d lost all save one of the friends I’d made in school — the reaction seemed to be that I’d done something wrong or nothing would have happened to me. My family’s response was “Something should be done…Good luck with that.” Meanwhile, I’ve had the energy and functional capacity of an amoeba for the last several years, and am only just now coming out of it.
Matt: Thank you for being so generous with your expertise, and for telling your story. Imagine how incredible it is to hear there are some actual strategies that might shift the situation!
Re: grade inflation. I earned my grades, and received high marks in other departments as well. The one exam, the qualifying one that is the last step before thesis writing, is the one I couldn’t get an answer over until the ill-fated meeting with faculty and the Ombudsman. By her actions of “prepping” some students and ignoring others prior to us taking the exam, I suspect that exam was an exclusion tool, so that Dr. Wilma could control which students advanced and which didn’t, but I can’t prove that. But as OxDrover said, Dr. W received two weeks house sitting for free, since I returned her money in full.
At the worst case scenario, I have found my voice, am healing, and now have contact with people who get it! The relief is profound. In the best case, I’ll locate a lawyer who will approach the university for me, and work out a settlement agreement on contingency. I’m SO not taking debt lightly, but compared to loss of peace of mind, it actually takes second place.
All you guys, THANKS SO MUCH for hearing me out and for your invaluable advice! I’d say you don’t know what it means to me, but considering where we are, I’ll bet you do.
Each of you, what a joy to meet you!
All the Best,
Betty
Betty – My heart goes out to you. Nobody deserves such treatment and isolation.
Did I read this right? Because you didnt bring in a piece of junk mail – all of this “smearing” can standup and hold merit…because you didnt bring in a piece of junk mail?? Huh..
Did I not read something did I miss something? Did youwrite a letter explaining it to the dean or someone explaining the situation exactly the way you did to us here at LF?
I know its her word against yours, but what was she claiming you DID? Do they know she “hired” a student to house sit? Do they know ANYTHING? I have to reread this. I am beyond perplexed at what she actually was able to accuse YOU of doing that you couldnt defend in writing .
Exam after exam came back with an A. Papers too received A’s…. The proof of your hard earned work is all there.
This isnt a case of getting revenge for you . This a case of providing the facts, just the facts to a lawyer… sitting back and watching heads roll at the university.
Betty – Im going to now read everyones comments to your post. Perhaps Ill get better insight from them….I just bout fell off my seat after reading your story and felt compelled to say what I did….