The Next Victim
She’s exactly who he needs to help make him socially palatable—a loving, supportive and good person with long friendships and family connections. He will have neither. She will not be wealthy because that would mean too many people keeping an eye out for her. He needs to work under the radar. If it’s later in life she will be skilled and genuinely talented at certain things that are worthwhile, but not highly educated. He doesn’t want a critical thinker who is mature enough to trust her trained mind. She will be a hard worker and add value immediately. He’s getting tired. She will probably have a hard story of loss and grief in her life that leaves her alone. He needs someone vulnerable to hopium. She will be warm and accepting and generous with affection and encouragement. He is starving for narcissistic supply. And something about her body will match his porn template. For example, his mommy.
WHAT DO YOU DO?
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The Keys to My Success
I pulled the plastic bag out of the bottom of the box. It was so heavy. What was in it? A treasure of coins? Jewellery? Gold ingots? Was the plastic going to to break from the weight of what it held?
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The “Pop-Up Store” Treatment Industry "Pops-Down" in a Pandemic?
As a community and workplace traumatologist I have been hard at creating resources and doing workshops since mid-March, when news of the coronavirus pandemic settled into our lives. As our neighbours to the south hit the storm full sail with over 155,000 deaths, I talked with one of my US colleagues about the sex addiction treatment industry’s silence during the pandemic. It appears they’ve made a strategic choice to be dumb.
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Choose Your Path Carefully, But Choose
It’s yours to choose.
Not mine. Not his. Not any treatment practitioner’s. Not your religion’s. Not your family’s. It’s your path to choose.
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Dyed-In-The-Wool
“You must be the only Albertan who knows where Fermoy is!”
I remembered her words as I turned down an old road that at some point in the last five decades had acquired a name and a road sign. This was surely the last place I expected to be when I set out to sell my stash of fine wool for traditional rug hooking. The irony of the whole operation just kept getting richer and richer as I passed the sign to the Christian camp where I had first met my ex-husband, 49 years ago. I didn’t turn off there…this time. I was going to have to go a little further down this road to sell that wool. And that’s why I was here…this time.
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