The end is nigh

Towards the middle of August 1989, things went from bad to worse.

I'd never fully recovered from Scott and Jackie's deaths, not because I'd been close to them (I didn't really know them), but because of what their deaths meant - about LRH, about Scientology, and about OT.

My husband had become increasingly disaffected, and we were barely on speaking terms. At the time, I thought he just resented my being on staff. I realized later it ran much deeper than that.

It became clear to seniors in the Org that I was a mess, and I was being "handled" on an almost daily basis for PTSness and/or out ethics. I was encouraged - strongly encouraged - to leave my husband. With four small children and no income, who thinks that's a good idea?

And although I agreed that he'd become something of a problem because he wanted me off staff, I held Org seniors at bay with the assurance that he'd come around. He was just frustrated. I could handle it. Just give me some time. He wasn't suppressive. He couldn't be, because the implications of that would be too much to bear.

Doubt was now a constant companion. It haunted me in all things and was unbearable. It was a doubt that I couldn't speak of, that I could share with no one - not even myself. I was paralyzed, afraid to look too closely in any direction for fear of what I'd find, of what I would have to decide. It was like walking a tightrope in the dark. There was nothing to hang onto.

I ate little and slept less, living on coffee and cigarettes, all of which made matters worse.

I felt utterly isolated and alone. I didn't trust my husband. He wanted me off staff. I didn't trust my parents. They wanted me out of Scientology. I didn't trust my seniors at the Org. They wanted me to leave my husband. I didn't even trust my friends - all Scientologists. I knew if I confided in them, they would feel compelled to "write me up" - tell the ethics officer what was going on with me.

There was nowhere I could turn, no one I believed in anymore, no one I could share this with who would just listen, without judgment, without comment, and let me talk it through. I was mute and desolate and despairing, trapped inside my head in a fog of swirling confusion.

And then, towards the end of August, my husband called me at lunch one day and read me a passage from a book. It was unquestionably from Dianetics. Only it wasn't. It was from Science and Sanity by Korzybski.

And I went into freefall.

I didn't know it at the time, but this was the day before my rescue.