‘You were right to fear it. I had led a quiet, comfortable, sheltered life up until then; I was totally unprepared for the shock of having my freedom, my privacy, my independence, my reputation, my home, my husband, my heart and soul, torn from me. By many standards I did not suffer much, I was not beaten or abused. Nonetheless, by the time my sentence was up my condition was such that our doctor referred me directly to St. Thomas’s psychiatric hospital in Kingston.
I remember my terror. I remember being sick in the car on our way there. Which was ironic, because St.Thomas’s was to be my salvation. When we arrived, I didn’t know how I was going to get through the next ten minutes, far less the rest of my life. It was an absolute revelation to me that there were people who knew what to do about such things; people with the skill and knowledge to pick up the pieces of a shattered mind and reassemble them; make them whole.
Still, without your steadfastness, Charles, without your visits, your letters, your constant, unceasing love and support, they would not have been able to help me. No one could have helped me, because I would not have wanted to survive.’
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