We entrust the lives of our loved ones to eating disorder treatment centers. Sometimes children as young as 7 years old. Parents living with their greatest fear … that their child will be taken. And so, we entrust those treatment centers with our heart, our soul, our reason for living. Accordingly, we are certainly entitled to demand complete transparency from them.

We are entitled to demand that our loved ones will always be protected.

We are entitled to demand that our loved ones will receive the best medical and mental health care possible.

We are entitled to demand that treatment centers will thoroughly vet prospective employees and conduct exhaustive due diligence investigating their background.

We are entitled to demand that treatment centers will thoroughly train their employees to provide evidence-based treatment with a level of care that is equal to or exceeds the generally accepted standards of care.

We are entitled to demand that treatment centers will thoroughly oversee and supervise their employees.

We are entitled to demand that treatment centers will provide a professional, safe environment where our loved ones will be free from unscrupulous, dishonest, unethical employees.

In fact, courts have held that treatment centers and their employees have the highest fiduciary duty to those entrusted to their care. They must exercise the highest degree of care for the safety of their patients. Therapists employed by treatment centers occupy a special place of trust and confidence and owe to their patients and their families, the highest fiduciary duty and a place of trust and confidence.

We are entitled to demand transparency from treatment centers in every possible way, from something as simple as their name to the complexities of their treatment protocols.

But what if that trust is betrayed? What should the consequences be? What should the ramifications be when a treatment center fails us? When a treatment center betrays us?

Last week, Gayle Devin, the Chief Executive Officer of “Alsana” issued a press release which disclosed alarming information. The release stated in part, “We recently learned that Alsana direct care employees might have been involved in inappropriate conduct involving a client receiving outpatient care at our St. Louis program. [emphasis added] Based on our initial review, the allegations involve significant violations of company policy, and we have taken immediate action, including terminating employees and removing employees who remain under investigation from any client setting.”

Later, Ms. Devin states, “As part of that commitment, we are temporarily halting new client admissions to two of our residential and outpatient programs in St. Louis as we continue to investigate these allegations.”

And yet, when the press release is carefully read, additional concerns appear.  First, Ms. Devin states, “… inappropriate conduct involving a client receiving outpatient care at our St. Louis program …” [emphasis added]. The singular word, “client” is used implying that only one patient was involved.

However, we know for a fact, that that statement is inaccurate.  There are a number of patients who were impacted. There are a number of employees who were involved. So, why attempt to make us believe that only one patient was involved? And since when did a person suffering from the mental illness with the second highest mortality rate change from being a patient … to becoming a “client?”

In addition, Ms. Devin’s statement would have us believe that only the outpatient care program was involved. So, if that was the case, why would it be necessary to halt new admissions into the residential programs? If the inappropriate conduct was limited to one patient in the IOP program, why were multiple employees involved and why are two of their programs temporarily not accepting new admissions. For that matter, can we believe that “Alsana” discovered and effectively dealt with all questionable employees? Can we believe that the patients who are left are truly safe?

Further, where is the next press release disclosing what other steps they have taken since last week? Have the families of all of the remaining patients been informed? What safety measures have been taken to insure the safety of the remaining patients?

Even still, why should we believe anything at this point? Especially since “Alsana” cannot even be transparent about their own name and existence.

Many people believe that “Alsana” grew out of the demise of the disgraced, Castlewood Treatment Center. A demise precipitated by lawsuits and horrific allegations alleged against Castlewood. In fact, on “Alsana’s” website, if you click on the “blog section,” you will see articles written about “Alsana” going as far back as 2012. “Alsana” makes additional representations that its existence goes back as far as 2002.

“Alsana” has attempted to position itself as a separate entity going back as far as 2002 and that it has nothing to do with the issues and problems which previously plagued Castlewood.

And yet, nothing could be further from the truth.

“Alsana” is not a corporation at all.

“Alsana” is not a limited liability company.

“Alsana” is not a partnership or professional partnership.

“Alsana” does not have its own separate existence.

“Alsana” did not take over or acquire Castlewood.

So, what exactly is “Alsana?”

A search of the Missouri Secretary of State’s records gives us the answer. A fictitious name certificate was filed on March 28, 2019. Quite simply, “Alsana” is merely a fictitious name.

Under Missouri law, the owner of a Fictitious Name Certificate must be disclosed.  “Alsana’s” Fictitious Name Certificate certainly identifies its owner, the entity which totally controls its overall operations. The entity which is in existence and only wears the Fictitious Name as a public, pasteboard mask. In this case, it should come as no surprise that the owner of Alsana, the owner of the Fictitious Name “Alsana” is …

Castlewood Treatment Center, LLC

Castlewood never went away. Castlewood has always been there, lurking in the shadows. Still profiting and sharing those proceeds with its private equity owner. Castlewood is the modern-day version of Keyser Soze, the quintessential antagonist in the 1995 movie, The Usual Suspects.

As for those “Alsana” Blog Articles going back as far as 2012 and the past employees who claim to have been employed at “Alsana” as far back as 2002? How can those articles be remotely accurate since Castlewood did not start the fictitious name “Alsana” until March 2019? Before that date, It did not exist at all.

Which raises the question, if “Alsana” cannot even be transparent about its name and existence, what can it be transparent about ? Especially since other patients are beginning to step forward.

Well, litigation may tell. On January 31, 2022, as attorney of record, I filed a lawsuit against Castlewood in the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Missouri.

Time may tell as to what this case ultimately reveals. It may result in closure that so many people so desperately need. However, it may also result in disappointment to those who seek justice.

What we do know is that the courtroom is a crucible in which all irrelevancies and subterfuge are burned away. What we are left with is the truth.

Truth that families can rely upon.

Truth that can sustain those who suffer from eating disorders.

Truth that can bring peace and comfort to some.

And Truth that can also bring something else …

Retribution, consequences and accountability to others.

Just when you think it cannot get worse…

[Castlewood continues to market itself to the general public as Alsana. That topic will be the subject of a future article. I will continue to refer to them as what they really are … Castlewood.]

As of Friday, December 17, 2021, despite having actual knowledge of Brittney Gibbs’ predatory nature, Gibbs remained an employee of Castlewood. An employee conducting group sessions. An employee conducting individual sessions. With your children. With your loved ones.

For approximately four (4) weeks:

Castlewood has had actual knowledge about Gibbs’ background.

Castlewood has had actual knowledge about the reprehensible acts committed by Gibbs.

Castlewood has had actual knowledge as to her horrific statements.

Castlewood has had actual knowledge that Gibbs likes to hurt people because it makes her feel good.

Castlewood has had actual knowledge that she has harmed patients at their St. Louis facility.

And Castlewood’s response?

It has publicly done … nothing.

To review, these were some of Gibbs’ statements just two years ago along with some of her very recent communications with patients at Castlewood:

“And proud of you for not listening or allowing your mother to tell you to continue to be abused. You have others supporting you and see what [Husband] is doing. They will in time but who cares.”

“You have to do what is right for you and your boys and that’s happy healthy peace love. [Husband] is none of that your doing.”

“Everything has to be strategic. There are no emotions when talking to him [Husband] strictly strategic to get full custody and spouse and child support.”

“Fuck love. Love hurts. Get a hobby.”

“Can you see if there’s a [arrest] warrant out?” [for the arrest of Gibbs]

“Apart of me is sad that I upset you becuz of my pain but that’s what I am practicing telling my friends when I’m drownin and I’m not perfect it gets dark sometimes I forget all the good I didn’t mean to scare you but I was honest you made me promise to do that.”

“I reflected and realized I hurt others on purpose because it makes me feel good.” … “There’s a darkness in me …”

“I can be toxic to the people I love.”

“I participated in the toxic behaviors I didn’t know any better, and sometimes I knew better but did not care.” “But, some days I hate myself, and I cause hell in other people’s lives.”

“One day I wont say things to people strictly to hurt them.”

“I became strong built from rage, and hate.”

That is the type of predator Castlewood is employing and refusing to fire. And now, Gibbs’ actions are escalating in that she is defying the legal system as she hopes to hide evidence of her reprehensible conduct and character.

Gibbs, while Castlewood’s employee, destroyed material evidence.

On November 23, 2021, Castlewood was advised through its attorneys about some of Gibbs’ reprehensible conduct. Demand was also made to preserve all electronic evidence and information. The preservation of this information is crucial to the litigation process. Especially since if a bad actor knows she has possession of damning information, they could do all within their power to hide or destroy this evidence.

The following demand was made:

“In order to protect any other patient who may have been, or who continues to be subjected to Ms. Gibbs’ mental and emotional abuse and implantation of repressed memories, demand is herein made for an immediate investigation into Ms. Gibbs, including having Ms. Gibbs turn over all of her social media posts, including but not limited to Tik Tok, Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, reddit, Tumblr, WhatsApp, YouTube, twitter, Pinterest, and others, text messages, recordings of telephone calls, emails and any and all communications she has had with patients of Castlewood or who may have had any contact or communications with her from the first day of her employment to date. Further, demand is made that Ms. Gibbs be prevented from erasing, changing, deleting or altering in any manner, any such communication.”

In  law, this demand is called a “spoliation notice.” When an attorney sends a spoliation letter you are putting the other party on notice that documents or items in their possession may be used to prove your claim and that they are, therefore, responsible for preserving them. In other words, you are notifying the other party of their duty not to destroy evidence. Failing to preserve these items after receiving such a notice will result in sanctions being imposed on the defendant and could give rise to the presumption that the evidence would have been harmful to their defense and instruction may be given to the jury to make such an adverse inference.

So, in response to the November 23 letter, what did Castlewood and Gibbs do? Instead of preserving all evidence, Gibbs first deleted her Tik Tok account. Her Tik Tok account allegedly contained numerous videos, some of which are directly related to the claims made.

Then, after the last article was published, Gibbs, while an employee of Castlewood escalated her bad faith conduct by deleting her Twitter account. Gibbs’ past misconduct and character flaws were set forth in her own articles on that Twitter account. So, contrary to the requirements of the legal system, Gibbs, while an employee of Castlewood destroyed relevant evidence.

Four (4) weeks have elapsed since the November 23 demand. Four (4) weeks to conduct an investigation. Four (4) weeks to determine whether the complaints have merit and take action. And yet, as of last Friday, Gibbs was still employed by Castlewood.

As such, there are only two (2) logical conclusions which can be drawn:

(1). That Castlewood conducted its investigation and determined that Gibbs’ conduct and statements did not merit her being supervised, suspended or fired, or;

(2). That Castlewood did not conduct any investigation at all.

If the first conclusion is applicable, then Castlewood stands behind Gibbs. Gibbs’ actions are Castlewood’s actions. She is the type of employee they welcome, and they believe she did nothing wrong. If the second conclusion applies, then Castlewood’s conduct is grossly negligent.

So, which is it?

Do they stand arm-in-arm with a predator whose strength is derived from hate and rage, a predator who hurts people because it makes her feel good, a person who destroys evidence? Or is Castlewood grossly negligent by not conducting an investigation and by such, continues to subject their patients to a predator?

Whichever is the case, the legal system will sort through Castlewood’s conduct. The legal system will determine Castlewood’s fate.

Certainly, the legal system knows how to handle treatment centers that are arrogant, blind, callous and who allow a predator to prey on the vulnerable. The eating disorder community may not know how to police its own. But, third parties, including the legal system, federal agencies and the Joint Commission do. And now it is Gibbs’ turn to be afraid. Gibbs, along with her employer, Castlewood have become the prey.

And certainly, I, along with the legal system, will show Castlewood the same amount of mercy that its predator employee showed to her victims, those persons she harmed.

Sine missione.

The phrase, ‘Here there be monsters’ was inscribed on old maps to indicate unchartered waters. According to some historians, ancient cartographers didn’t know what was out “there” before the great explorers had touched all parts of the globe. What was beyond the explored region remained a mystery. The assumption was there was something terrible waiting for them.

Monsters can be found in many different places and in many different shapes and forms. Predators who prey upon the weak, the vulnerable, our loved ones who are in pain. Sometimes, those predators are such that they seek to cause pain simply because it makes them feel good. They would watch the world burn if they could be ‘Queen of the Ashes.’ This reality requires our unrelenting vigilance. Especially in the mental health treatment arena.

On November 5, 2021, Michael Jacksa, a former therapist at Timberline Knolls pled guilty to criminal charges perpetrated against seven (7) patients at that facility. Seven (7) young women entrusted to the care of that facility. All of his victims were betrayed in the worst possible manner. And whereas the criminal cases are concluded, the horrific emotional scars left by this monster will undoubtedly linger for years.

With regard to mental health treatment, families entrust their most precious beloved treasures to treatment providers. The decision to place “your baby” into the hands of another to provide potentially life or death treatment is agonizing. There are so many doubts, fears and yes, guilt.

As such, families must be able to rely on the integrity, transparency and expertise of treatment centers. Families must rely upon the belief that these treatment centers carefully vet their employees; that they conduct thorough background checks to lessen the likelihood that a predator will be let loose upon vulnerable potential victims.

That is because predators know places where they can find deep pools of potential victims. Predators know where they can hunt the most vulnerable. A treatment center must be resolute in its process to protect our treasures entrusted to them. It must have sound policies and procedures in place to ensure that it is only employing the highest quality persons. The stakes are incredibly high. So, when a treatment center discovers, or is advised that a predator may be in its employee pool and has gained access to our loved ones, it must take immediate action. Its action must be swift, direct and decisive.

But, what if that treatment center is advised of a predator in its midst, but either elects to take no action or conducts only a rudimentary investigation, brushes off the complaint and allows the predator to continue to have access to our loved ones? Doesn’t that surely make the treatment center complicit in the predator’s conduct? And shouldn’t the consequences for the treatment center’s complicity be justifiably draconian?

As unlikely as that fact situation may appear to be, evidence suggests that that very circumstance is happening today. 

Castlewood/Alsana

On November 23, 2021, Castlewood/Alsana, through counsel, received correspondence which contained the following language:

“Be advised I represent Ms. Jane Doe and Ms. Jane Roe. Both were former patients at the Castlewood facility in St. Louis. Both were preyed upon by Ms. Brittney Gibbs, a therapist employed at Castlewood’s St. Louis facility.

Of the many hurdles, obstacles and life-threatening issues confronting persons suffering from severe eating disorders, being mentally, emotionally or sexually exploited by the very person from whom they seek help, guidance and sometimes even salvation is nothing short of reprehensible.

I am still investigating the claims. But, the facts about which I know leads to the conclusion that Castlewood is once again, employing a predator in the role of a therapist. In each instance, Ms. Gibbs convinced my clients that their respective spouses were the causes of trauma in their lives, that their spouses did not support them and that their lives would be much better if they moved on without their spouses. In each case, Ms. Gibbs established a “friendship” relationship with them after they left Castlewood. After leaving Castlewood, as a result of Ms. Gibbs’ horrific conduct, both patients separated from their spouses. Ms. Gibbs maintained a personal relationship with both patients.”

Documents corroborate those facts. Some of the communications from Ms. Gibbs include the following:

“And proud of you for not listening or allowing your mother to tell you to continue to be abused. You have others supporting you and see what [Husband] is doing. They will in time but who cares.”

“You have to do what is right for you and your boys and that’s happy healthy peace love. [Husband] is none of that your doing.”

“I realize and feel that I’m inputting too much of my opinion and I don’t want to jeopardize our progress in our relationship.”

“Can you see if there’s a warrant out?” [for the arrest of Gibbs]

“Everything has to be strategic. There are no emotions when talking to him [Husband] strictly strategic to get full custody and spouse and child support.”

“I was told to start doing guided meditation on Spotify cause of my voice by the clients and there trying to get me paid for what I do in groups as a side hustle…”

“If I can come back from losing my daughter, you can overcome food.”

“Apart of me is sad that I upset you becuz of my pain but that’s what I am practicing telling my friends when I’m drownin and I’m not perfect it gets dark sometimes I forget all the good I didn’t mean to scare you but I was honest you made me promise to do that.”

There are many other communications, damning communications, communications which will necessarily come out in the litigation process. But until then, we can speculate as to whether Castlewood/Alsana could have discovered the darkness within Ms. Gibbs before offering her employment. The answer to this issue is clearly yes.

Just two years before Castlewood/Alsana accepted Gibbs as an employee, Gibbs attempted to write some blog articles. These articles can be found here:

https://twitter.com/brittchanel29?lang=hi

Reviewing these blog articles, some of the more alarming statements made by Gibbs include the following:

“Fuck love. Love hurts. Get a hobby.”

“I reflected and realized I hurt others on purpose because it makes me feel good.” … “There’s a darkness in me …” [emphasis added]

“How aware are you of your past traumas and how they effect [sic.] the relationships you have in your life.”

“I sit here watching the little mermaid with her [her daughter] praying she doesn’t grow up, and hate me the way I feel towards my mom.”

“I can be toxic to the people I love.”

“I participated in the toxic behaviors I didn’t know any better, and sometimes I knew better but did not care.” “But, some days I hate myself, and I cause hell in other people’s lives.” [emphasis added]

“One day I wont say things to people strictly to hurt them.”

“I became strong built from rage, and hate.”

Castlewood/Alsana could have discovered these article by simply conducting a rudimentary google search … “Brittney Gibbs social media.” After reading the blog articles, any parent would be justified in asking whether this is the person you want responsible for saving their child’s life. Or whether a parent would want this person as far away from their child as possible.

What escalates this issue into the realm of defying belief is the fact that at the time Castlewood/Alsana unleashed this person on its patient population, Ms. Gibbs was still in training! It is unknown whether she was being supervised by any experienced therapist. Further, Ms. Gibbs is not eating disorder certified. When you review the persons she is following on Twitter (87 persons), not one person is involved in the eating disorder community. Not one respected clinician. Not one university professor. Not one organization.

Ms. Gibbs’ alarming content in the blog articles is reflected in her misconduct. And her misconduct has severely damaged at least two, vulnerable victims. And their family members, parents, grandparents, children, spouses.  Castlewood/Alsana let her loose on its patient population without thoroughly training her. And to exacerbate matters, despite being warned, Castlewood/Alsana, has upon information and belief done nothing.

On December 13, 2021, I was advised that Ms. Gibbs is still an employee of Castlewood/Alsana and still has access to your loved ones. TWENTY (20) DAYS AFTER BEING ADVISED OF SERIOUS ISSUES WITH GIBBS, CASTLEWOOD/ALSANA IS STILL ALLOWING GIBBS ACCESS TO PATIENTS, YOUR LOVED ONES.

I find it incredibly hard to believe that a treatment center can be so arrogant, so blind, so callous as to continue to let a predator prey on the vulnerable. Is that where the industry is now? Where is the outrage? Where is the accountability? Where are the consequences?

Or must we simply believe that as precious as our children, our loved ones are to us, to some, they are merely corporate commodities.

For as long as I can remember, Christmas has been a blessed, sacred, family time. As a child, and a sickly one at that, I remember sitting on the couch looking at the family Christmas tree. Along with my four siblings we threw icicles on the tree. (“One at a time! Hang one at a time!) The big, multi-colored light bulbs. Packages wrapped so beautifully.

The star on top of the tree lit with a big, white bulb. The Christmas Tree Star offering a shining path to a future filled with hope and promise. To a child there is such comfort, such joy in those nights tucked in safely at home, falling asleep on the couch, the lights from the tree providing warmth and security.

As adults, we embrace those cherished memories. We hope to pass those memories on to our beloved children. With the Christmas tree being such a strong symbol from my childhood, I wanted my children to experience that wonder, that hope for the future as I did. And so, we started the tradition of driving out to East Texas to a Christmas Tree Farm and sawing down our own tree.

Well, the first year, we learned a valuable lesson. A tree growing in the wild looks very different than when it is standing up in your living room. That first tree, we struggled to get it standing up. In part, because it looked like a big green, Rice Krispy square! Martha, the mother of our children, liked fat trees. This one was a green square.

So, the first night, we heard this crash, walked into the living room and saw the tree had fallen over. Thankfully, no ornaments had been placed on it.

The next day, as the tree was again leaning precariously, I called my dad. He came over, we got some baling wire, (everything in Texas can be fixed with duct tape and baling wire) put a couple of eyebolts into the wall and secured that tree to the wall! And so, that became an annual necessity.

Another point to remember … wild trees are filled with water. They weigh more than the raggedy trees at Lowe’s or Home Depot. Make sure the tree base is secure!

Our Christmas tree outings grew as we added families, their children and friends. At its height, we had two full sized busses going out to East Texas. Moms and Dads made merry by swilling Bloody Mary’s and Harvey Wallbangers, our noses aglow and filled with liquid courage were let loose with bow saws on unsuspecting trees.

And yet, the trees were magnificent. New ornaments either made by the kids, bought for the kids, or exchanged with loved ones were an incredible source of happiness and brought such bling to the tree. Years of collecting ornaments. And all was right with the world.

Well, life happens, families move away, divorces take their toll and Christmas tree farms become a memory. And yet, you still hold on to the precious ornaments. Memories of happier times, of loving times. And Christmas tree farms become a thing of the past, left for other families to experience and enjoy.

Now we still had a Christmas tree every year. But, they were the raggedy ones from Lowe’s and Home Depot. However, each year you continue to tell those stories of years past going to tree farms, finding that perfect tree and having it be the light of joy, the light of love in your home. The stories become more grand each year as you run across new friends, friends with younger children, friends who want to experience “the magic.”

You have a Significant Other who, after hearing your stories for a few years, finally says … “Enough! I have not been. I want to go to a farm.” Your friends tell you how excited their children are to experience that magic. And so …

Sunday, November 28, 2021 you find yourself returning to a Christmas Tree farm. You search briefly and find … the Tree. A big tree. A very big tree.

And new lessons are about to be learned.

I now believe that maybe wild trees have a certain “life force” within them. They do not want to be taken out of the ground! So at home, after getting help with the base, straightening the tree, I stood it up … or so I thought. I had barely moved when the tree reached out, began to tip over and fell directly on me! Well, no harm no foul. Or so I thought.

So, I tried to stand it up once again. Majestically it rose and stilled. You step back  … and it once again fell. Again, on you.

Now, I am a man. Which means I can be dumb and determined at the same time.  But, this time I call my son and ask him to come over and help with this tree from hell. He does, we put it so it is sturdy in the base. And it is majestic! 9 ½ feet of aromatic, natural, Christmas tree greatness.

I let the tree drink up water for a day and then, put on the lights. The tree is as sturdy as the Rock of Gibraltar! 1300 lights illuminating the tree. (Hint, you always put the lights on the inside of the tree so it shines from the inside out and illuminates the ornaments from behind.)

Now to carefully unwrap your precious memories, the ornaments. You find the perfect place on the tree. Reminders of past love. Reminders of precious lives having been taken. You smile as you  look at the ornaments your children made at a very early age. Crayons on paper, a baby’s hand print. You remember those years when you and your daughter decorated the tree together. An incredible bonding experience. And whereas all may not be right with the world, the memories of love sustain you.  And then …

Sunday, December 5, 2021. At 2:15 p.m., you are going to Dallas Love Field airport to pick up a struggling angel who is going to regain her life at ERC Dallas. You have spoken with her a number of times and are happy that you get to help her in a very small way on her journey. So, you pick up around the house, sweeping floors, cleaning bathrooms. When you are in the great room with your back to the Christmas tree, you hear a loud CRASH!

That crash is the sound of glass breaking. Behind you. And … you know, you just know. You turn around and see that once again, the Christmas tree has fallen. You did not hear the sound of the tree itself. Instead you heard the crashing, the destruction of your precious memories, the ornaments. You are overcome with anguish, with anger, with dread at the shattering of your memories.

All rationality has left. Your pain is poured out in front of you in plain sight. For you to see. And then hot, uncontrolled, irrational rage grips you.

You scream at your Creator, you cry out admitting you have made many mistakes in your life, you have committed many sins, but how much longer must you remain in God’s doghouse? You yell that you have tried to pay your debt by helping others, by trying to save lives. You have paid for your sins with the dearest blood possible. And you ask God how much more does he demand from you. Tears flow.

When you come back into the room, you see your saint of a partner, sweeping up the broken shards.

You see the tree still lying on the floor. Pain still has you in its grip. And through it all, you are reminded that you have to regain some semblance of sanity since the airport awaits.

You drag the “Tree From Hell” outside. Water is soaked up from the floor. Shards of glass are swept up. You go outside, take “Satan’s Shrub,” stand it up and tie it to the arbor. You try not to look too closely at which ornaments are broken.

The house quickly is put in relative order. And so to the airport you go. Upon arriving, you show up at baggage claim, your angel recognizes you and comes directly to you (and your partner.)

From the very first second, there is an ease, a familiarity. She again tells you how she and her family found you. She expresses her sorrow for my daughter being taken. But right from the start, you see anxiety, you see “real” fear in her eyes. So instead of going to the hotel, you all agree to go back to your house. On the way home, you tell her in a light hearted way about the fall of Satan’s Shrub. She laughs and says, that’s ok.

Once home, she unpacks a few items, knowing that she will be going to the hotel that night and then checking into the treatment center the next morning. She goes outside and spends some time talking to her family and then comes back into the house.

She then spends the next 90 minutes telling her story, talking about her struggles and eating disorder. It had not dawned on me until just now, but during those 90 minutes, not one time did I think of Satan’s Shrub.

An alarm goes off on her phone and she simply says, “That is a reminder to her that it is time to eat.” So, we go to a Tex-Mex restaurant. Much to my happiness, the medical director of the treatment center which will be saving her life has become a dear friend, lives nearby and agrees to take time away from her family to meet us at the restaurant. Now imagine, you are going into treatment, again, you are frightened, in an unfamiliar city, and the person overseeing the treatment center agrees to meet you in an informal setting.

The conversation at the restaurant was insightful, hopeful. Fears were discussed, expectations were talked about. And in those eyes which had only reflected anxiety and fear, you could start to see the vestiges of … hope. And again, during that time, not one time did I think of Satan’s Shrub.

Upon our return to the house, we asked if she wanted to stay at our house instead of a cold, sterile hotel. You could sense the relief wash over her as she accepted our offer with gratitude. And so, she and I stayed up until midnight, talking, laughing, a few tears flowing.

The next day, I took her to the treatment center and helped her admission process. I got to participate in the admission group session. And yes, the fear and anxiety were still in her eyes. But, she was in a place where the eating disorder demon could at last be exorcised. And I looked at her with such hope, with such respect, with such admiration.

Upon returning home, I looked at Satan’s Shrub outside and the ornaments which were left. I looked at the ornaments, again and again. And then it dawned on me. The ornaments which were shattered and which were now gone were the more expensive, pretty, glass ornaments purchased in years past. Christopher Radko creations. Bright, delicate ornaments.

However, the ornaments which survived the fall of Satan’s Shrub were the least expensive ones, the free ones. And most importantly, the ornaments made by my children when they were oh so young! The ornaments made by the creativity and passion of day care workers. Photos of my dear children on these small pieces of paper with a hook at the top. Memories had not been destroyed. In fact, in looking at what ornaments survived, greater memories came flooding back. Memories of a baby’s laughter. Of the innocence of my children. Of love.

And it is only now that I am beginning to understand the incredible gift that was given to me this year. A renewed understanding of that which is so incredibly important to the heart and soul. A renewed understanding of  love which is branded on your heart by your children. It is not found in shiny, expensive ornaments. That understanding had been locked away. It needed to come out.

But, it took the fall of Satan’s Shrub. It took the anxiety and fear in the eyes of a young person in such pain and her still clinging to the narrowest of threads which promised a future of hope and love. It took those incredibly precious events happening at the right time, in the right place to shatter false beliefs as to “that which is important and beautiful” to bring a light of understanding to this old heart.

And so, Satan’s Shrub did not belong outside. Satan’s Shrub taught me an important, albeit painful lesson. A valuable lesson. Satan’s Shrub gave me a gift of renewed insight. That struggling angel gave e the gift of hope, of compassion, of remembering what is important. Satan’s Shrub could not remain outside. So, back inside it came. The least I could do was to bring it back into the family and let it serve its true purpose.

Satan’s Shrub no longer exists. It never did. Instead, I have a Christmas tree. As it always has been and was meant to be. As it was in my childhood. As it is today.

And perhaps, it is the best tree I have ever had.

Last week marked three (3) watershed moments in the eating disorder community. Three moments characterized by:

The very definition of courage, resiliency and strength.

Intelligence, commitment, determination and hope for the future.

And finally, a chance for a fresh start for a greater tomorrow.

Three separate events impacting the eating disorder community to its very core. Three events which can, and should have far reaching consequences and ramifications for the future. A better future. A future in which our loved ones afflicted with this illness have greater hope.

Courage and Strength take down a Predator

Seven women patients in a residential treatment facility alleged that between December 2017 and June 2018, Michael Jacksa, a therapist employed by that facility, engaged in “inappropriate sexual behavior” during therapy sessions at the facility. Prior to the last victim stepping forward, Jacksa faced a total of 62 charges from six different cases, including charges of criminal sexual assault and criminal sexual abuse.

Jacksa was accused of committing heinous sexual abuses; patients say the therapist digitally penetrated their buttocks and vaginas, placed his hands beneath their clothing, fondled their breasts and forced them to give him oral sex.

Last Friday, November 5, 2021, Jacksa pled guilty to criminal charges perpetrated against all seven (7) of his victims. Seven (7) young women entrusted to the care of that facility. All of his victims were betrayed in the worst possible manner. And whereas, the criminal cases are concluded, the horrific emotional scars left by this subhuman monster will undoubtedly linger for years.

The legal system does not make it easy for victims to stand up and be counted. Demands are made of those victims. In some cases, having to relive the trauma. And yet, those seven (7) young souls stood up in court, many still in the grip of their eating disorder despair, looked that monster in his eyes, told him how he had so wounded them. How he had betrayed them. How he had violated them. But, how he had failed in destroying them.

The civil cases against the treatment center, the monster and others are still pending. Monetary damages will undoubtedly be paid to Jacksa’s victims. But, their mental and emotional damage will linger.

Betrayal of our most vulnerable cannot be tolerated. Treatment centers must step up their vetting process and background checks to decrease, if not eliminate outright, the likelihood that predators like Michael Jacksa will ever be able to prey upon our sons and daughters again.

And to Jacksa’s victims, stay strong, stay resolute. You have endured so much. You will overcome the obstacles placed before you. YOU will overcome. Because you have shown more courage and strength than most people in the eating disorder industry or community can possibly fathom. YOU define having resolve. YOU define strength. YOU define courage.

Legacy of Hope

On Thursday, November 4, 2021, the Journal of Eating Disorders published an article entitled, “The Legacy of Hope Summit: A consensus-based initiative and report on eating disorders in the U.S. and recommendations for the path forward.” This article showcased a consensus based report on eating disorders.

Between January 24 through 26, 2020, some of the foremost recognized experts in the eating disorder industry and community assembled in Dallas, Texas at their own expense. Research scientists. Medical doctors. Chief Executive Officers of eating disorder organizations. Craig Johnson. Elissa Myers. Carrie McAdams. Carolyn Costin. Carolyn Becker. So many others. A veritable “Who’s Who” in the industry. Other professionals attended via Zoom calls. Its motto was, “Many Voices – One Hope; Healing.”

It was the brainchild of and organized by Don Blackwell. Mr. Blackwell has been a stalwart advocate in the eating disorder community for many years. His book, “Letters to Ashley” has been read by many. He spoke at a number of NEDA conferences and other events.

The Legacy of Hope focused on five (5) separate work groups: (I) Prevention, Early Detection, and Intervention; (II) Accessibility, Affordability, and Accountability; (III). Standards of Care; (IV) Research and Research Funding, and; (V) Advocacy, Education, and Legislation. Each section contained an overview of the status quo for each topic area, a Consensus Point, and a list of goals and strategies.

The Legacy of Hope demonstrated a new era of cooperation, collaboration, communication and greater wisdom. By being published, it is now available to all. This report may very well be the new treatise on eating disorder treatment and evidence based practices. Undoubtedly, it will require revisions and amendments.

Those professionals who contributed to this report demonstrated intelligence, commitment, determination and hope for the future. Hope for all of us.

A Fresh Start – NEDA

As many people know, I was one of the attorneys who filed a lawsuit against NEDA in December 2020. NEDA employed a very reputable attorney to represent its interests. In May 2021, we went to mediation and reached an equitable resolution.

On Wednesday, November 3, 2021, a Stipulation of Dismissal was filed which ended the case and brought closure to the lawsuit. And so, this begs the question, where does NEDA go from here? “Business as usual” is not an option not just for NEDA, but is not an option for any organization, foundation or business.

Covid-19 has laid bare the fragility of not just life, but the manner in which society conducts itself. Whereas we may have previously thought of ourselves as safe, our future relatively secure, the plans for our tomorrows relatively safe and secure, something so small the eye cannot even see it, showed our wrong we were.

I sincerely hope that NEDA comes out of Covid-19 stronger than ever. That it overcomes the obstacles placed before it. That it fulfills the incredible promise and potential it has to help families and save lives. I hope it is guided by wisdom. By vision.  That it finds the courage and strength demonstrated by those seven (7) victims of Jacksa.

Transparency. Emphasis on those whose needs are the greatest. NEDA can accomplish some incredible deeds. The future is in front of it.

As it is for all of us.

Saturday October 30, 2021 marked the five (5) year date upon which my beloved daughter Morgan, drew her last breath. I was holding her hand that dark night. Her brother, my son, was in the room. And then at 11:31 p.m., the physician’s assistant gently whispered, “She’s gone.”

Until the end of my days, that dark, horrible night will remain a personal tragedy. What makes that tragedy sting on a deeper level is having to acknowledge the reality that the world has moved on. Morgan’s friends have moved on as surely they must. They have started their own families. To the eating disorder community, Morgan is merely a statistic and pretty much a forgotten statistic at that. However, to her daddy, she is the catalyst for my soul connecting with me.

In acknowledging that the world has moved on, different thoughts of life, the living and the manner in which we face life swirl through those “little gray cells” as the fictional, Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot was wont to say.

When an annual death day arrives, a parent knows that that day will certainly bring sadness as memories come flooding back. You wonder “what if?” What children would they have brought into the world? What joy and happiness would they have experienced? What greatness would have been within their grasp? Not surprisingly, you don’t think, “oh no, what if they would have turned out to be a serial axe murderer!?”

That day you walk a razor’s edge of emotion … the slightest nudge can send one falling into a chasm of despair. And yet, life, the endless possibilities that life seems to offer, keep finding ways to intervene, to keep one walking on that razor’s edge.

In the last week, my younger brother James told me he is flying to Tahiti on October 30 for a well-deserved vacation with his wife. He said he remembered it is Morgan’s commemoration day. I then told him that Morgan would love if you took her ashes you have, and spread them someplace beautiful in Tahiti or in that great ocean. I hear him choke up a bit and he then says, I was going to ask you if it was alright if I did just that. Five years have elapsed. It’s time for her to see more of the world, to become part of it in different places.

October 30 continues. Hanford, my son, has started his own Halloween tradition with his family. Along with his wife, Rebeca, their child, Riley and my other beautiful granddaughter, Kennedy, they put on Halloween movies (this year it was the Nightmare in Longhorn Football Land). They carve their own jack-o-lanterns. Morgan’s mom, Martha, was in attendance bringing Italian food and the pumpkins. The laughter, then the concentration as they carved intricate patterns, the inevitable mistakes, a bowl full of “pumpkin innards” ultimately resulted in masterpieces.

PIC

Life with the living. Laughter and love. Keeping painful thoughts of missing the one who is physically not there in a safer place. Yes, thinking how much Morgan would have loved … or hated, carving pumpkins. How can those thoughts of her not exist? After all, she is permanently in my heart. But, laughter and love kept sadness at bay for the time being. And yet, the day was not yet over, not by a long shot.

I am currently squatting in a beautiful house (thanks Patti!) in a non-gated, well-tended, small community that is seeing a turnover of its residents. From Blue Hairs and Non-Hairs like me to younger families with babies and small children. The joy and wonder of sweet, innocent children. On October 30, at 5:00 o’clock, a trick or treating parade was organized by the local HOA. Which brought back memories of childhood decades ago. And memories of Halloweens spent with my children.

Armed with a basket of candy (and yes, only the good ones, like Reese’s and peanut M&Ms and Snickers) we sat on Adirondack chairs in front of the house. With a cigar and bourbon in hand, we await the onslaught of urchin and munchkins. And surely they came.

From babies in carriages, to younglings barely able to walk, an army of Batmen, butterflies, spider men, costumes from all walks of a fantasy life approached. Eventually, I sat on the curb with the basket of candy, having them reach in to get their own share. Laughing as some tentatively reached in and took only one (“That’s ok … you really can have more than one!”) to others who reached in an pulled out handfuls at a time. Looking up and seeing the surprised and horrified look on their parents’ face brought such laughter. And in those beautiful children’s eyes, I saw the absolute best that life has to offer. A future filled with love and hope.

The children basking in the glow of free candy brought thoughts of past Halloweens with Morgan. Morgan’s eyes filled with wonder and laughter. But, before I have a chance to be consumed by a tsunami of pain, more children walk up and one says, “YAY, THE DRAGON IS OUT TODAY!”

We have about a 9 foot inflatable dragon I bought about 4 years ago. Every Halloween (and sometimes during the Christmas season, it has made its appearance). Its wings slowly flapping. Glowing red eyes. A stomach which looks to be on fire. And then the dear children looking at it with joy and yes, one even had fear.

One mom said, “we drive by your house every day and when the dragon is not inflated, I tell my daughter the dragon is taking a nap.” A number of adults and children commented on how much they love the dragon. Something so simple. Something which brought such joy to the younglings. Smiles. Laughter. Is life bringing a modicum of peace to an anguished soul?

Darkness starts to descend and night time approaches. I remember that dark night five years ago when frantic calls of “Code Blue” blared so loudly. A harbinger signaling that death was arriving. But, tonight?

We have some dear friends who live about 15 houses a way. He is a genius, mad scientist who is inventing AI which is going to enslave and/or kill all humankind. She is an outgoing event planner, full time mom and bon vivant. They take Halloween very seriously. This year, their family was dressed as the Addams Family and as you can see, their house was decorated full tilt. Saturday night, October 30, they were throwing a costume party. We were obliged to go.

I decide to dress in black, including the black hat and sunglasses. When asked, I will say I am channeling Johnny Cash, or Robert Oppenheimer (“I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds”) or Joe Black (from the movie). We show up early and hob nob a bit. And yet, I really just want to be left alone with my own thoughts and feelings. Unfortunately for me, the universe has other plans.

Our dear neighbors have two daughters, one of whom has incredible musical talent and can discern subtle spices and flavors in food at 14 years old. The other daughter is this precocious, out-going, bold 9 year old. This girl has no fear, is in your face and is already grabbing life by the lapels. We have a very nice connection because she is emotionally and mentally more mature than I am.

And so, any thought of being alone with dark thoughts and sadness rapidly go out the window. Especially since they are dog sitting a Scottish Terrier. So, the 9 year old and the dog, who are close friends now are embedded in my world. Go outside and stand next to the pool? I am found. Go to another part of the backyard? Uh, yeah … no. Found. Go inside into a separate room. Ha! This incredibly, sweet, innocent, beautiful child is not going to let me be alone with sadness. She doesn’t know that of course. I hope one day to be able to explain to her what a gift she was that night. But, certainly the day is not evolving as I thought it would … and feared.

But, I am a guy. Which means, I have not yet grasped what is happening around me. I think I can still control my destiny this day. I am the master of my domain. The King of the Castle. The Lord of the County.  Uh …. No.

Home at last. I can be alone with my thoughts and feelings. Instead, I set up the new projector to watch a movie outside. Bring out the cigars and bourbon again! It’s drive in movie time! Patti is there of course.

The movie “42” comes up on my feed. The inspirational story of Jackie Robinson overcoming all odds. His strength. His courage. His facing adversity with resolve. And with grace. Having watched that, obstacles seem less formidable. And I am reminded of the power of “One.”

I then find Morgan’s Celebration/Funeral on YouTube. I find the aria, “O Mio Babbino Caro,” which was sung that day. I play it and allow the tears to come as Patti sits next to me. By now, it is 11:25 p.m. Six minutes to go. At last, time for me to be alone. NOW, I can mourn properly, dammit. Like I am supposed to!

I go into my home office and close the door. But, before I can even sit down at the desk, feelings, emotions, thoughts come… I have not been alone all day. I have been surrounded by love. By laughter. By sweet, innocent children. By people who care. By people who love. So much has strengthened and bolstered me all day. And I know that I am not alone. That I am no longer meant to observe 11:31 by myself. And so, I leave that “aloneness” behind. Perhaps, once and for all times.

I open the office door, find Patti of course, and we start to talk. I watch the clock as 11:31 approaches. It then … arrives. I certainly remember those words which froze my heart, “She’s gone.” I am hugged. But, those words, “She’s gone.”

It was not until the next day, as I am being a conduit for this posting, that I understand the words, “She’s gone,” do not stand alone. Nor do I. Now, the words which follow, “She’s gone,” become clear. They become a greater call to action.

The words which follow, “She’s gone,” are … “and what are you going to do about it?” What am I going to do about it?

A father filled with steely resolve. Whose soul has connected with him. Certainly, a flawed man. But, a daddy with a purpose. With decades of legal experience behind him. With the power of the court system at his command. Who has been pounded and beaten and forged by the hottest fire. And who knows he is not alone.

Resolved. Driven. Power and inspiration from a daughter taken far too soon. She’s gone. And now … what am I going to do about it?

Another rotation around Old Sol.

Another birthday. Natal Day. Name Day. The day our mothers went through pain, sometimes incredible pain, to bring another life into this world. Our life.

Our children are our greatest hope for better tomorrows. As parents, we want to leave the world a better place than what it was when we came into it. Some people attempt to achieve this through their own deeds. Others look to leave their legacy through their children.

And western society wants to tie it up into a neat, tidy bow. For many of us, we work for others for decades, grinding away. We hope to make enough money to keep a roof over our heads, food in our belly, have enough money to live “comfortably in retirement” and give our children a fair start at a greater tomorrow. The American Dream.

After decades have passed and when we turn 67 years old, we may get an imitation gold watch, our co-workers, most of whom we never really get to know, try to acknowledge a work life “well lived.” They then look upon us as we walk out of the office door for the last time with a combination of envy … and perhaps fear.

We are … retired.

So, what does retired actually mean? We no longer punch a clock as we walk into work? We no longer have to work a minimum of 40 hours a week? We now have free time on our hands to do … what? Do we go quietly into that good night?

But, the reality is a life at 67 years old today is far different than our parents’ generation. 67 years old has very little in common with our grandparents’ generation.

As we look back upon our lives, many of us wonder, what became of our life? Have I made a difference? Is that even important? Are our children happy? Did our parents tell us enough times that they loved us?

Today, I complete my 62^nd (or is it 63^rd ?) rotation around the sun. The number of chronological years is simply a number that society imposes upon us. Society tell us it may be time to start to slow down. Biologically, we are not as spry as we once were. [However, for men, we now have 3 different pills to address that and absent those pills, we have 2 popsicle sticks and duct tape to compensate!]

Society can only measure the number of rotations we have completed around the sun. Society cannot measure the more intangible, the incorporeal aspects of our life.

Society cannot measure our emotional age. 

Society cannot measure our mental age.

Society cannot measure our spiritual age.

Society cannot measure our maturity level.

Society cannot measure when we have found our true calling … and when our soul connects with us.

As for me, I have lived most of my adult life as a man-child. Vacuous. Shallow. Superficial. Self-absorbed. You could measure my soulfulness by the thimbleful. But … no more.

Five years ago this October 30^th, my soul connected with me. A person far, far greater, far more insightful, far wiser, left my existence. Five years ago this October 30^th, the blinders were lifted.

I feel more driven, more insightful (I hope), more wise, more compassionate, more energized than I ever have. I do not know what the future will bring. But, I will boldly stride ahead, with strength, with resolve, with passion and with the knowledge that many others support our shared vision, our shared dreams.

And so, today … I thank you for the birthday well wishes and acknowledgements. But, as a birthday (or name day) present you may give to me, instead, I ask something of you.

If your mother is still with you, give her a call. Tell her … thank you! Thank you for bringing you into this incredible life. Tell her you love her. Tell her you only want to make her proud.

If you have children, give them a big hug. Give them a kiss. No matter their age. Tell them that they are the single, most important thing to you. Tell them your souls are connected.

For those who wish me happy birthday today, thank you. But, I urge you to embrace your family, your loving family. Tell them you love them.

THAT … is the best birthday gift you can give to me.

THAT … is the best birthday gift you can give to yourself.

Football in Texas is sacrosanct. It is a religion. New born baby Texans are given footballs as their first play toys. In Texas, there are really only two sports … spring football and fall football. Baseball is that “girly” sport meant to merely take up time between spring football and fall football. Basketball is played by people running around in their underwear and takes place between fall football and spring football.

Football is King in Texas. I am pretty sure there is a lost “Gospel of Texas Football” sitting in the same general vicinity near Nag Hammadi, Egypt where the Gospel of Thomas was discovered in 1945.

This is especially true when you are a proud graduate of the University of Texas at Austin, home of the Longhorns. And no game brings out the passion, the hatred, the joy … and yes, the stupidity more so than the annual Texas – Oklahoma football game.

The Texas – ou game has been played at the Cotton Bowl, located at the Great State Fair of Texas every year since 1929. Dallas is located almost exactly half way between Austin, Texas and Norman, Oklahoma, the town in which ou is located. Traditionally, the game is played on the second Saturday in October. Unlike all other college football games, the stadium seating is split, with 46,000 erudite, intelligent burnt orange clad alums and fans sitting on one side of the stadium and 46,000 red polyester wearing heathen … err … I mean the good people of Oklahoma sitting on the other side.

Beginning in 1978, I attended 22 consecutive Texas – ou games. I sat through 95 degree games, driving rain storms, sunny cool breezes. I saw the venerable old Cotton Bowl go from artificial turf to grass, the stadium size increase from 72,000 to 92,000. And the atmosphere of the game is like no other.

The sights, sounds and smells of the State Fair permeate game day. The smell of Fletcher’s corny dogs. Warm, Shiner Bock beer being served up in wax cups. Long lines to get on rides. Pig races. Turkey legs being sold. The laughter of children. Competing shouts of “Texas sucks!” and “OU sucks!” reverberating. You hear the clanging of bells and whistles from the Midway.

And then, when you go inside the Cotton Bowl, you are surrounded by your fellow alumni and fans. You can smell the grass field. Some years you can catch a faint whiff of whiskey in the air as flasks snuck into the game provide fortitude or whimsy. You remember past games and seeing some of the greatest players to ever play college football. And for a brief period of time, all is right with the world.

What brought that 22 year streak to a halt was an Indian Princess campout. My daughter Morgan, then in first grade at St. Monica Catholic School, had her tribe scheduled to go on a weekend campout strangely enough, in southern Oklahoma that same weekend. Well Dads, we must have our priorities. And so, the game attendance streak ended. And thankfully so. The weather that Saturday was horrifically bad, mid 40s, sleet, driving rain. My Longhorns were crushed … and when I saw my daughter’s smiling face and heard her laughter during the campout, again, all was right with the world.

And so, a new streak started the following year. As time went by, Morgan accompanied me to games. And just as she understood the opera from minute one, so too did she get Longhorn football and this game. She dressed in burnt orange as did her dad. We laughed, bonded, commiserated over the losses and rejoiced with the victories.

And then, a demon entered our lives. Eating Disorders. As her health deteriorated, she realistically could not stand up to the rigors of attending this game. On October 8, 2016, I attended the Texas – ou game by myself. My 16^th consecutive game since the break in 2000. But, the game was different. For some reason to me then unknown, a lot of the joy and enthusiasm was not there.

Thirteen days later, on October 21, 2021, I once again took Morgan to the emergency room. She never left the hospital alive. On October 30, 2021, eating disorders claimed her as yet another hourly victim.

I have not attended another Texas – ou game since. Sometimes, there were supposed conflicts or other plans made. Conflicts and plans I had always managed to work around in prior years. Perhaps I felt that whatever joy or sorrow, laughter or sadness I had previously associated with this game would be gone. Perhaps I felt I would be haunted by the realization that Morgan would not be with me at another game. Perhaps I was hiding from painful memories and emotions. Perhaps cowardice had me in its grip.

Well, I refuse to allow cowardice, pain and anguish to become my masters. This October which will mark the fifth commemoration of Morgan being taken. But, I will return to the game. Tickets have been purchased. Tickets were also acquired by an incredible local doctor, a dear friend of mine, for her adult twin sons to attend their first Texas – ou game. And so, the game awaits.

It will be those young men’s first Texas – ou game. It will be my 39^th. But, I will not be alone. I intend to take some of Morgan’s ashes with me. And by hook or by crook (and with a good bail bonds man standing by just in case), I will spread just a few of Morgan’s ashes on the grassy field of the Cotton Bowl. A place which held such significance, a place of joy, a place of bonding for Morgan and me.

A small bit of her will be left and become part of this historic, venerable setting, a place we shared and loved. And in having her become a more tangible part of our shared memories, I know she will yet again, fill my heart with love, with resolve, with purpose.

A dad with a strong heart, a heart filled with love and inspiration can accomplish anything. So, perhaps I will cheer a little louder, laugh more and find a way to embrace memories not with sorrow, but with a smile on my face.

In today’s world, we are inundated with stories showcasing the darkness of life. Covid-19. Hundreds of thousands of lives being taken by a virus we do not understand. The disgraceful withdrawal from Afghanistan. The 20^th commemoration of 9/11. Our political parties at each other’s throats. Extremism on both the far left and the far right dominating news channels. A hurricane devastating not just New Orleans and the state of Louisiana but slamming into the Northeast as well.

Fear, depression and sorrow strengthening its icy grip around us, strangling us, choking away our joy, our hope for the future. And perhaps we are right to wonder if hope has been taken from us.

And yet, just when you might believe that we have forgotten how to believe, how to hope, how to embrace a future of greater promise, one man comes along, one man with vision, with an incredibly naïve hope that our future can be different. A seemingly ordinary man. But, a man with vision.

That one man with vision reached out to others, others whom he thought may also dare to believe. Others who may have also been called to protect the weak and the vulnerable. This one man chose to bring his dream, his vision to life … and so, Camp Wonderment was born.

Dr. Joan Le and San Diego’s Rady’s Children’s Hospital believed in the Camp Wonderment approach so much that they agreed to be hosting experts for Camp Wonderment’s first beta camp.  Dr. Le selected 6 children between the ages of 8-12 all of whom had limb differences for Camp Wonderment’s Beta 1 – Circus Camp. 

Jean-Luc Martin, long time creative/business partner and founder of the world famous San Diego Circus Center agreed to host Camp Wonderment’s camp. The idea was to blend their “hero’s journey” approach with his existing coaching style during a summer circus camp.  This Circus was specifically selected for the physical nature of their represented “population” –  children with limb differences. 

Most of the campers were born with their physical conditions and so were accustomed to their limb differences. But as this one man spoke with the parents of each nominated child, he began to understand that they had all recently experienced an event that was traumatic.  One young boy fell at school and was knocked unconscious in front of the entire school because he doesn’t have arms.  He couldn’t catch himself.  An 11 year old girl was attacked by an adult neighbor which left her afraid to even leave her house.  

Each child had an experience that lowered their consciousness to a point where they, for the first time, began to FULLY identify with their body and its perceived weaknesses. 

So, this one man decided to move forward with resounding faith that he could raise enough money to pay for the camp and if by some unlikely reason he couldn’t raise it, then his wife and he would pay for the camp.  It wasn’t but a few weeks before several Dallas area businesses began to express interest in sponsoring. Sponsorship dollars rolled in and this man’s vision became manifest.

In August 2021, that first camp became a reality. And as these incredible children at first slowly, and then with greater enthusiasm and courage began to embrace and overcome the obstacles before them, this one man began to see that it was not just the lives of these 6 children being changed, but their families as well. 

Watching these kids come in on the first day, he saw many hiding their limb differences. Several other campers did not even have sufficient means to bring food for lunches or snacks.  

For five days, these kids had the personal attention of professionally trained circus artists, gymnasts, dancers, clowns and coaches. Each day as this one man walked the floor he heard coaches talking with the children about how to handle fear, failure and doubt. 

This one man knows we all talk about these things with our children, but we are not the ones getting them to fall backwards from a 10 foot drop with no arms or legs… These children needed more. They needed a sense of community. A sense of being not just accepted, but embraced. They needed to find a way to trust. And this man was overwhelmed when he saw that trust beginning to grow. In his words, “THE TRUST WAS ASTONISHING!” 

Symbolic therapeutic work which was designed to mimic their recent challenges for managing fear and doubt resulted in life altering experiences.   

This one man’s vision for Camp Wonderment’s is simply this: If you are afraid of falling, then let’s go learn how to fly.  If you are afraid to leave the house, then let’s be clowns in a show in front of 150 people! Each child began to stand a little bit straighter, smile brighter and get WAY more sweaty than the day before. These kids worked hard and then came the grand finale … the show! 

Friday at 2:30 the lights went up as the campers, along with others, performed in front of over 150 friends and family. It was truly amazing.   Each parent expressed similar sentiments of shock and amazement that their children could, and would, do the things they had just done. 

This one man and his volunteers did it! In one week they were able to transmute what was potentially one of the defining moments of these young lives into a catalyst that brought them out of their shells and RETURNED to them a resolute spirit. 

Now, this one man and his vision, Camp Wonderment, are excited to announce their 2nd Beta camp will be this winter in Dallas, Texas. And this time, the focus population will include children suffering from eating disorders and children whose parents are serving 30 years or longer in prison. 

This one man embraced the power of hope, the power of one man. The belief that one person can change the world by providing hope.

This one man, this one man who has chosen to believe, who must leave the world a better place than what it was when he came into it is reaching out his hand to children facing incredible obstacles. This one man of hope.

This one man is Damian Skinner. A dear man. A dear friend. A person who embodies all that I wish I could be. This is the start of Damian’s vision and hope for the future …

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZAJcCtzZUf4

Today marks the end of an era, an all too brief era in the eating disorder community. September 1, 2021 marks the resignation of Elissa Myers as Executive Director/CEO of the Academy for Eating Disorders. And at a time when the eating disorder community so desperately needs a selfless leader, a champion standing up for those who are vulnerable and in pain, a person of insight, humility, intelligence and grace, that very person is moving on to other and greater challenges … well, other challenges anyway.

I first met Elissa at the ICED event in Chicago in April of 2018. At first, it was a brief discussion during a break in the afternoon sessions. Then that night, after observing snowflakes the size of half dollar coins falling from the night’s sky, (in April, really?) I saw Elissa, Therese Waterhous and Bonnie Harken talking in the lobby bar of the Downtown Marriott. There was a half-filled martini in front of her and I thought, “She’s one of us!” I was prepared to just give a passing wave and move along, but Elissa invited me over to have a drink with them. Keep in mind this was less than eighteen (18) months after my daughter, Morgan had been taken and looking back, I was still operating in this fog of depression, despair and guilt.

We talked for a while. Elissa, Therese and Bonnie allowed me to go into Morgan’s story a bit. We then talked of nothing and of everything. And I walked away from that impromptu meeting thinking, feeling, there was just something different about this person, Elissa Myers. Something special.

As we continued to correspond, Elissa invited Patti Geolat and me to her spacious abode just outside of Washington, D.C. We were going to talk about all things eating disorders related and she had set up an in person and Zoom meeting with other people in the eating disorder community. And so, in August of 2018, Elissa opened her doors to us.

The initial impressions were many. First, you better immediately love “Indi” her black lab. If not, well, I’m sure there are comfortable hotels nearby. And then, you look around at the eclectic furnishings and decorations, you remember the numerous photos of her on social media always with her ubiquitous calling card, “the air bunny symbol, ok ok, the peace sign formed by her fingers,”  and then, it hits you right between the eyes, “My God … this woman is a hippie! She probably even likes Hillary Clinton!”

Well, going downstairs to our room for the next two days, at the bottom of the stairs was a life size cut out of … Hillary Clinton. Naturally, I had to get selfies with Cardboard Hillary since Real Life Hillary was not then readily available. And then I thought of all the inappropriate things that had been foisted upon Hillary by former President Bill Clinton and thought, Hillary needs her vengeance. So, Cardboard Hillary ended up in bed with me (more selfies), which of course were sent to Elissa. The next morning as Elissa was fixing breakfast, she looked my way with a wry smile and slightly raised eyebrow. Sorry about that Elissa. But, I could not resist that “Come hither” look on Cardboard Hillary’s face. And humor, tolerance for silliness and the loving nature of Elissa shined brightly.

Just two months later, in October 2018, we were hosting a screening of Lisa Sabey and Josh Sabey’s powerful documentary, “Going Sane.” Lisa Sabey agreed to fly down for the event. We extended an invitation to Elissa fully not expecting her to show up. One cannot truly fathom our joy, our elation, when Elissa graciously agreed to not just appear, but agreed to say a few words at the screening and appeared on a local radio show we had organized. What made her appearance even more significant was that, and I didn’t learn this until long afterwards and from other sources, that certain people had tried to convince Elissa not to come to Dallas. “That Steven Dunn is a madman. He’s a troublemaker! He’s the fly in the ointment, the monkey in the wrench, the pain in the ass! Don’t your go down there!” And yet, in making the decision to come to Dallas, she stood so much taller than those naysayers. For a hippie of diminutive stature, she stood so tall, the courage of her convictions elevating her to dizzying heights.

And truly, a special friendship with that wonderful, soulful hippie grew stronger. In March of 2019, ICED was being held in New York City. The week before ICED started, a federal court in San Francisco published its Wit v. UBH decision. As I reached out to one of the lead attorneys in Wit, I noticed his office was in Manhattan and we began to communicate. I immediately contacted Elissa, filled her in on who he was and the importance of the Wit case and told her I thought I could get the attorney to appear and give a presentation. (after all, it was only a few days before ICED was to begin. It’s not as if Elissa and Dawn had a full schedule!). And yet, Elissa jumped on this opportunity right away. And in a matter of days, an appearance at ICED was organized. Thanks to Elissa, Brian Hufford, one of the lead attorneys in Wit appeared, spoke for over an hour and the room was filled with a veritable Who’s Who of industry leaders. All because of Elissa’s foresight and wisdom.

On social media, Elissa’s joyous life was captured in photos she posted in from places like South Africa, Singapore, Dubai. And each time, that brilliant smile and that peace sign spread the message of AED embracing the reality that eating disorders are a global issue and must be treated as such.

When I was able to obtain speaking opportunities with Raytheon in February 2020 and Apple in September 2020, Elissa sent AED material which I gladly included in the information sent to those corporate giants. I wonder how many of those employees’ and their families’ lives were helped because of Elissa’s selflessness.

As Covid a/k/a “The Zombie Apocalypse,” sank its insidious claws into all aspects of our lives, the pressure and demands on business entities and organizations continued to increase and engulfed us all. Some organizations failed. Many leaders of organizations faltered and failed. Retailers with decades of serving customers shuttered their doors. And eating disorders as well as all mental illnesses were reported in never before seen numbers. Sources of revenue and donations to not for profit entities plummeted.

When some organizations were bereft, their very existence in question, that is when our diminutive, peace loving, “Kumbaya my Lord,” hippie stood tallest. Guiding AED with a firm hand as she was confronted on all sides by a deadly virus, fear within the AED membership, pressure from others outside of AED and uncertainty about the future. Pressures, fears and uncertainties that would have, and did, unhinge others.

And yet, for Elissa Myers, it was surely her finest hour. You see, it is easy to be the captain of the ship when the sun is out, the winds are comfortably blowing, the seas are relatively calm and the jagged rocks seem so far away. But, the true test of a captain takes place when the night time clouds are illuminated only by hellfire and lightening, when the winds are howling, when the sea is rough and unforgiving and the jagged rocks are just ahead.

There is no doubt that Elissa is leaving us at a time of great unrest in the eating disorder realm. Private equity owned treatment centers having to expand or merge as debt obligations come due. The Wit case illustrating the deficiencies in the treatment of eating disorders. Will NEDA survive? What of the fat activists who are a very small minority but yell loudly? Racial tensions. People in the past who were once regarded as leaders but who are now being exposed as anything but, as more information comes to light regarding their egos and self-important motivations. Who will AED select to replace Elissa? For that matter, will they replace her at all?

Elissa has this incredible life essence which commands respect from both university based professors and treating doctors alike. And yet, this respect does not come because she has an over-the-top, outrageous personality, or an egocentric need for self-recognition and personal accolades. No. In fact, if one were to ask Elissa if she was fully aware of what an “icon” she became, and is, in the eating disorder community, she would sincerely laugh it off and steer the praise to others.

For people like Elissa, the respect due her, what will surely be her legacy,  comes from a place of humility, of listening, of extending grace. It comes from wisdom and courage, kindness and love.

I could go on ad infinitum. Instead, I know for at least me, I am a better person, a better father, a better man, a more reflective person because of Elissa Myers.

And so my friend, know that when your incredible soul is released to explore other universes, there will be no doubt at all that you left this world a better place than what it was when you first arrived. Is there any greater legacy than that?

Well done good and faithful servant. Well done indeed.