“I’m going to have to take your razor,” the nurse said as she went through my personal toiletry bag. Hearing the bewilderment in my voice as I replied, “OK,” she quickly added, “It’s for your safety.” It dawned on me that they thought I was suicidal. Was I? I didn’t think so. I just felt numb, indecisive, and very sad. She left and then popped back in to say, “The first group session is in thirty minutes in room 510.” This all seemed so unbelievable. This happened in the movies, not to anyone I knew—and certainly not to me! I sat on the bed, trying to make sense of it all.
When it was time, I left to find room 510. I had always been the great pretender, never letting anyone see my true feelings. I made sure I appeared happy and together all the time. So, I put on my “please others at any cost” persona and greeted everyone I saw as if I was one of the staff. One staff member met me in the hall and very harshly asked, “What are you so happy about, Gabrielson? Take that silly smile off your face!”
I had never been spoken to like that before and couldn’t believe they would treat me so unkindly. Fighting back tears, I entered the room with all eyes on me—the newbie. I was intimidated and felt frozen. There was no way I could talk about why I was there. In fact, I wasn’t even sure why I was there. The facilitator explained that it was to everyone’s benefit to share what they were dealing with. What was I supposed to say? I’m sad? I’m depressed? One of your staff members just hurt my feelings and I want to go home? However, she also said it might take time for me to open up, and I could do it when I was ready. So, knowing I was safe for this session, I began to listen to everyone else.
I soon realized these people had some serious personality disorders. The woman directly across from me thought she was the mother of Jesus. A few chairs to her left, a man actually thought he was Jesus. In my sick state of mind, I remember thinking, Why don’t they just sit next to each other and have a little family reunion? There was a woman who suffered from agoraphobia, several recovering drug and alcohol addicts, and a Vietnam veteran who couldn’t let himself sleep because of nightmares and flashbacks.
What was I doing here? I had a husband who had shown unconditional love to me, two wonderful sons, and a loving family. What was wrong with me? I was silent throughout that session and many others after that. I wanted to go home, but I was still so depressed. I didn’t know how to fix it and knew I was there until the counselor would release me. I had to endure this hour by hour, day by day.
Then, to make matters worse, during my first night at the hospital, an 80-year-old woman was admitted. I heard her moaning and crying for two full days and nights. I kept asking why someone wasn’t taking care of her. No one would tell me anything, and I began to think I was in one of those horror movies and we would all eventually be tortured like this woman. But then she sobered up and joined us in group therapy. She had been in and out of treatment centers for years and couldn’t stay sober. She admitted to licking the cork of the bottle in the taxi on the way to the hospital. She was so frail. I always helped her with her meal tray because I took it upon myself to assist everyone with everything.
When we weren’t in one-on-one meetings with our therapist or group therapy sessions, we were pretty much on our own in the commons area. A lot of that week was a blur, but there are a few things I will never forget. One of the recovering drug addicts was a young woman, probably in her early twenties. She smoked constantly (this was before smoking was banned in public places). She had her eye on me all the time. It was kind of eerie, so I nicknamed her Shadow.
To keep myself sane, I became the unofficial staff member. I changed TV channels for some, brought coffee to others, and offered lap blankets. Ridiculous! But I had to keep myself busy, distracting my mind from my own problems. One day, after I had helped everyone with their lunches, making sure everyone had what they needed, I sat down at the only open spot next to Shadow. Her cigarette hung from the corner of her mouth, and smoke swirled around us until I could hardly breathe. She leaned in closer and whispered so no one else could hear, “Tell me the truth; you’re a spy, aren’t you? You don’t talk in therapy because there’s nothing wrong with you. Right?”
Maybe it was my theatrical background combined with the mental bizarreness of my situation, but I played along. I looked to the left and then to the right, and then leaned in closer. Choking through the smoke, I said, “Yes, but you can’t tell anyone!”
Shadow threw her head back and slapped her knee, laughing loudly. “I knew it!” Then she leaned in again, winked, and said, “Don’t worry, it will be our secret!”
The day finally came when I knew I had to break my silence during group therapy if I ever wanted to be released. As I waited for my turn, only half-listening to the group’s conversations, I reflected on my life. I was trying to sort out how I had come to such a place. I had given my heart to the Lord at the age of nine. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that He had forgiven me and that I had a promise of life eternal with Him. But then, John 10:10 tells us, “The thief (Satan) comes only to steal and kill and destroy. But I (Jesus) came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance.”
In November of that same year, I experienced sexual abuse by someone I trusted. At that young age, I was confused and maybe felt a little self-hate. I tried to bury those feelings, but there was always a sense of inadequacy. I went through high school, a year of college, and then beauty school, striving to be liked by everyone. I married Dave Gabrielson at 20 years old. Dave was also a Christ follower, and together we wanted to create a Christian home and raise a family that would love the Lord as well. Dave brought his own childhood baggage into our marriage—harsh discipline and physical abuse—that affected his self-esteem. He also felt the need to prove himself to the world.
We became busy with family, career, and church. Our spiritual life became more about “doing” than “being.” We spent so much time “playing church” that we didn’t realize how Satan was deceiving us. The apostle Paul warned in 2 Corinthians 11:3, “I am afraid that just as Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ.” Dave and I began to drift apart. We didn’t heed the warning in 1 Peter 5:8, “Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.”
His poor self-esteem led to “putting me down,” and my controlling personality caused me to show him no respect. We found ourselves in a painful cycle that created a deep disconnection between us. I began to believe Satan’s lie: “I married the wrong man.” I was ripe for his seduction. Seduction begins with a seed of doubt, as in Genesis 3:1, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden?’” Or in my case, did I wrongly hear from God? Did I make a mistake marrying Dave? In the midst of feelings of isolation and powerlessness, I did the unthinkable—I allowed myself to be seduced by the enemy. I was brought out of my own reflections by the facilitator’s voice. (To be honest, I don’t know how many times she reached out to me because I was completely absorbed in my shameful memories.)
Finally, I heard her say, “Arlene, I want you to tell us today why you were admitted into the hospital.” All eyes were on me, including Shadow’s. Shadow had a sly smile, and I could see she was eager to hear what lie I would tell the group. But I knew I had no choice; I heard my voice say, “I had an affair.”
Absolute silence filled the room. After what seemed like an eternity, a woman broke the silence, “Is that it?” I nodded yes as I sobbed in shame. As the entire circle of patients broke into laughter, totally unable to identify with the shame that I was feeling, the facilitating staff member smiled and said, “Good job, Arlene.”
Although I realized the “good job” comment was because I finally opened up, I heard it very differently. Good job? Did they not realize what I had done? I had the Spirit of the Living God living in me and I sinned against Him. Against my husband, my family, and my church family! The actual sin of adultery lasted only for a very short time because the feelings of devastation and indescribable sorrow came, ushering in a deep repentance. 1 John 5:18 tells us, “We know that God’s children do not make a practice of sinning, for God’s Son holds them securely, and the evil one cannot touch them.”
Through the work of the Holy Spirit, my husband was given a supernatural ability to forgive and extend grace to me. In fact, in what I consider a miraculous act of God, Dave went to the other man without me knowing it and forgave him. As a result of that encounter, the other man gave his heart to the Lord and found a new life in Jesus!
However, as we began our restoration journey, and after I had experienced such amazing grace and forgiveness, Satan would not let us rest. I became seriously depressed and thus ended up in the hospital. But as I listened to the laughter in the little therapy room after my confession, I realized that at that very moment—it was shame. It was shame that had sent me into a deep, dark hole. God had forgiven me; Dave had forgiven me, but shame had begun to consume me. Shame had settled deep within my soul and was trying to sabotage the progress Dave and I were making in our marriage!
Oddly, the staff labeled that confession session a success and released me from the hospital. And predictably, my wonderful LORD whispered in my heart, “I do not condemn you. Shame comes from the enemy of your soul.”
God gave us more victories as Dave and I continued with our successful counseling sessions, marriage conferences, good praying friends, and family. The next 30-plus years of our marriage looked totally different. We had open communication and a deep desire to please each other. I learned to respect Dave. I felt safety, security, and unconditional love. God led us into a marriage ministry at our church, helping other hurting couples. God is so good! Jesus said, “I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance.” We chose to walk daily in His abundance.
Then, on May 25, 2018, Dave collapsed with a fatal heart attack in our yard. And he immediately was in the presence of Jesus. Even in the shock and grief, the first words that came out of my mouth to our oldest son were, “God is good!” That was a supernatural truth planted deep within my heart because it came directly from the Holy Spirit who lives there.
In God’s goodness, on December 2, 2022, I married Gary Greenwald, a good friend of my husband and me, whose wife had also died suddenly. Not only had we been friends, but the four of us did marriage ministry together! Again, God showed His goodness to us! I will forever shout the praises of my GOOD GOD!
