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Death of a Student Counselor

Death of a Student Counselor

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Published by Te-Erika
When the student counselor seeks counseling and has an intense emotional response to a breach of confidentiality, her career as a counselor ends. Factual Story.
When the student counselor seeks counseling and has an intense emotional response to a breach of confidentiality, her career as a counselor ends. Factual Story.

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Published by: Te-Erika on Feb 12, 2011
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Death Of A Student Counselor
Grievance Report against: Barry University Counseling & Psychological ServicesBy Te-Ericka PattersonThroughout my life I have experienced abusive relationships with men. I have beenphysically, mentally and sexually abused and when it began to affect my performance at work I knew I had to do something. I waited a while and tried counseling myself since Iam a counseling graduate student, but I could not get it together. My disgust for menhad now escalated into full out fear and rejection of them. After a phone call from one of my ex boyfriends from high school, I called my best friend and said, “I think he’s tryingto kill me. Please, if something happens to me, just know it’s him.” Yes, I firmly believed all men were out to attack me and this caused many setbacks in my career and my personal life. My best friend asked me to seek counseling and I did. Ireached out to the Barry University Counseling Center and asked for a counselor. WhenI heard that he was a male, I cringed but I agreed because I figured this was the best way to work through my hang ups.I began my sessions with my counselor Omari Keeles sometime in September. Thesessions were intense and sometimes fun. At first I feared he hated me too but afterabout a month, I relaxed and actually began to look forward to seeing him each week. Ishared my soul. I faced my biggest fear; emotional intimacy with a man. Even thougheach week I cried after each session, thinking that he was going to hate me the more hegot to know me, I went anyway, honestly, because for the first time, a man smiled whenhe saw me. No man does that. Every man hates me after getting to know me.But I went because I wanted healing. I wanted to be loved eventually and I figured thatmy counselor could tell me why I was unloveable and help me work on it. Omari didn’treject me. He told me that he saw nothing about me that would turn men off. He helpedme to see that it was my rejection of them that caused the problem. I wouldn’t allow anyone in. I would never let anyone get close.I believed him. I trusted him. I began to admire him and I was so grateful to have methim.By the time our sessions were over, I had begun dating men again which was absolutely absurd to those who knew me. I honestly hoped to experience what I experienced withOmari, complete freedom to be me. He let me be me. He didn’t laugh at me and hesmiled at me.On December 7
, we ended our sessions and the next day I was so sad. I missed him andthe freedom to be my complete self and not be judged. I allowed myself the opportunity to mourn as I recognized that I would never forget him because he helped me to becomeattracted to men again. He renewed my faith in men. Knowing him made me want to
give men a chance again. I wanted to be loved by someone who would accept me like hedid. That was the greatest feeling.The next evening he crossed my mind and I looked him up on google and up popped hisFacebook page among the search results.
Shocked and curious I took a peek and saw that his page was open for the world to see. Iread through his status updates and cringed when I saw that he had written about me. Although he did not mention me by name he wrote about our session where I brought inthe music he suggested that I listen to. That day I wanted to share with him what ahealing force his musical recommendation had been in my life. I didn’t expect to see himranting about how blessings come in the form of his most overwhelming, challenging,erratic clients. My heart sank. Is that what he thinks of me? I took out my calendar anddecided to go to the days when I was scheduled to see him to see if he had writtenanything else about me.On several status updates dated on the same Tuesdays that I met with him, he oftenranted about how much his clients were “whipping him”. I started crying. I wasdevastated. When I read that he and his supervisors sat and listened to his tapedsessions and his supervisors jaw dropped to the floor I had an anxiety attack. Yes, I amparanoid. No, I do not trust people taping me, especially when I am revealing things thateven my best friend doesn’t know. I imagined them sitting there laughing at me as Ipoured out my heart.How could they do that? I’m a real person too. Why laugh? Why hate me when I came to you for help? I know I’m not the easiest person to know but that’s why I came in, so youcould help me? And you laughed at me. And you discussed my personal issues in front of  your friends on FACEBOOK. And in one entry, he even wrote about how his “client” wasconsidering doctoral programs and asked him about the University of Miami. Althoughhe never used my name in any of the entries, I recognized myself because I had askedhim that.On another date that was time stamped not even two hours after our session, he wrote:Borderlines make me freebase. Borderline? I looked up the term to refresh my memory and I did recognize myself in some of the characteristics. Am I Borderline? I asked him when we were in session if he thought I needed to see the psychiatrist and he said No.

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