This is the first chapter of my forthcoming book, “F*CK the Secret”, which I am releasing piecemeal to my paid subscribers. If you missed the introduction, you can read it here. If you are not yet a supporter of my work, please enjoy this free preview, and consider subscribing to read the full chapter. I promise - it will be more than worth it!
That’s what I remember most about that night, the cold.
A cold that seemed to penetrate every cell of my body.
A cold that sliced through my skin.
You’ve seen a Ginsu knife slice through a tomato in a demonstration at Costco. Like that.
A cold that pierced my soul.
No matter how many blankets I asked for to shield me, the intolerable shivering wouldn’t stop, as I felt the void open up and threaten to consume me whole.
(Just to accentuate how monumental these events were - my Apple watch just alerted me that my heart rate has gone over 100 while I sit here typing that last paragraph!)
I’m no stranger to cold.
I grew up in Central New York, close to the ancient depths of Lake Ontario, where lake effect squalls that dump 60 inches of snow in a day are not unheard of.
I attended college in Potsdam, NY - just this side of the Arctic Circle* - home of 40-below temperatures and 60-below wind chills.
(* not really - but it is very cold!)
I’d even discovered the “Iceman” - Wim Hoff, learned of the benefits of cold showers and cold exposure, and even gone a full year without wearing a jacket of any kind.
And yet I’d never felt so cold in my life.
This cold seemed like something else - irrepressible, inescapable, a character onto itself in this horror film that I had created.
It had been a warm April day in Tennessee. Unseasonably warm. So the last thing on my mind when I left my house in the wee hours of the night was to grab a sweatshirt or jacket.
When I left I had no idea how many hours I would spend in that austere and overly-bright waiting room. Nor did I have any concept of just how cold it would be.
So I just sat there. Trying not to think about the cold nor about what an absolute mess I’d made of things.
But finally, it was time.
As the Doctor approached, I sat in a kind of desperate anticipation.
As parents, we try our best to prepare for every eventuality. Every possible situation we could come across.
But nothing could ever prepare you for these moments.
“We have determined that she’s not a threat to herself or others. But if you’re still concerned, you can have her hospitalized. It’s up to you.”
“It’s up to you”
What do you say to that? How do you arrive at a solution when you are past all good solutions?
How do you overcome fear?
The breakdown
The “she” the doctor was referring to is my daughter Lauren. Now 19, but at that time a month shy of her 17th birthday.
A budding singer and songwriter, with dreams of packed venues, bright lights, and massive audiences on Spotify and TikTok, she had just finished recording her debut album and was excited to release the first single and video in only a few weeks.
Earlier that night, we had confronted her about some erratic behavior on her part.
We planned to have her meet us for dinner at a new restaurant after she got off work. When she didn’t show up, we called her and discovered she was lying about her whereabouts.
When we finally got home, we asked for her phone.
And that’s when (in the words from the musical Hamilton) the world turned upside down.
Her reaction was utterly terrifying. She started screaming. Smashing things. Lashing out at us. Throwing the scattered items strewn around her room. Splattering nail polish all over her carpet and door.
Not knowing what else to do, I held her down and physically restrained her, as she cried “I can’t breathe! You can’t do this! You’re hurting me!”…and worse. The words like daggers ripping and tearing apart my heart.
(If you feel the need, go ahead and judge me. I’m not proud of any of my actions that night. But I’m not going to judge myself anymore for them. Or for those on the days that proceeded it. My actions and decisions were absolutely necessary for the experiences I needed to have. And as such, all were blessings.)
It became increasingly clear that this episode was very likely not to end until she had done major damage to our house. And I couldn’t continue to restrain an athletic, essentially full-grown woman indefinitely. So I made the fateful decision to call the police.
Less than ten minutes later the police arrived. And while I recognize that there have been many problems with police injustice, let me say that the three officers that came were absolute angels - a gift from God.
Two of the officers (A male and a female) soon pulled my daughter away to talk with her privately, while another remained with my wife and me to discuss that night and other recent events.
After talking with Lauren, one of the officers re-entered the house to talk with us. He began with -
“She’s in a really dark place…”
The Worst Thing Imaginable?
The next thing I knew, I was looking up into the soft stillness of the starlit midnight sky.
I heard a howl, more like that of a wolf or coyote than a human, that pierced the peace of the tranquil suburban landscape.
I soon realized the source -
It was me.
And I couldn't turn it off.
It continued for what seemed like forever (though in actuality it was probably only a couple minutes) until I could finally collect my thoughts, and process where I was - in the middle of my front yard.
"Mr. Waddell - Are you OK?”
In a rush, the officer's words came back to me.
Victim of sexual assault by her then-boyfriend…Given herself an abortion (with God knows what drugs)… In a secret relationship with a 21-year-old boy… Self-medicating with alcohol and pot…
"Yeah, I'm okay."
The biggest lie I've ever told. But it’s what you’re supposed to say, right?”
THe truth was, in no way was I okay. I'd failed. Failed my wife. Failed my family.
And especially failed my daughter.
It felt like an avalanche of shock, shame, and unbearable guilt had descended over me, leaving me unable to move, unable to breathe.
“What have I done?”
“Will she ever be okay again?”
“How could I not have seen?”
“I must be the worst father in the history of the planet!”
“How could I let my desires, my dreams, blind me like that?”
These thoughts echoed through my head, as I tried in vain to process what was happening.
I’d invested so much of myself, my time, and effort, as well as seventeen thousand dollars of the equity in our home, in pursuing my dream to be a health coach.
I’d done it for my family - or at least that’s what I told myself - to provide the life I wanted them to have, and to give my daughters the opportunity to fully pursue their own dreams. And here I’d been so self-involved that I had missed all the signs of depression and trauma, and lost sight of what is truly important.
A Fateful Decision
The police had suggested that we might want to have her taken to the Children's Hospital for evaluation - and hours later, that's where I found myself - torn between two terrifying paths.
Bring her home, as if things were “perfectly normal” and attempt to patch together the fragile and shattered bonds of our relationship.
Or have her placed in a care facility, where she could hopefully begin to process what had happened under the care of trained professionals.
At that point, I was so scared that all I cared about, and all I could think about, was her safety. Her simple survival. So I made the hardest decision, in the darkest moment, and chose the latter.
It was the hardest week. Not having her home. Trying to go on with life, and with work, without thinking about how hurt and betrayed she felt.
Having to call her manager, the brother of her teacher, who had become a good friend by that point, and tell him it was over - at least for now. All the work he had put in, and that she had invested her hard-earned money in - basically down the drain.
Every bit of it was awful and soul-crushing. And I cried myself to sleep at night, fearing that we would never recover.
She is doing much better now - happier than I’ve seen her in years - Living with a lovely boyfriend with an amazingly loving family, and expecting a child in a month as I write this! (Yes I know she is still very young - but life happens - and I choose to view it all as a blessing!) Yet I still think about it.
I even asked her about it recently- “What should I have done? What would you have done if it was your daughter?”
She replied, "I've been thinking about it too. I used to think you shouldn’t have done it. But now I don't know. I don't think there was a good option. It was too late for good options.”.
And that at least gives me some comfort. That I had made the best of an impossible decision.
But every cloud has a silver lining. And as it is said, it is always darkest before the dawn.
In the following weeks and months, the eternal questions of life arose in my mind.
"Why?"
“Why do bad things happen? How do I escape from pain and suffering? Can I find joy again? Can I learn to forgive myself? How do we find a way to go on?”
All the questions that humans have been asking for eons. Since time in Memoriam.
And so my quest began anew. A quest that began a decade earlier, but had been sidelined by life and by doubt.
A quest for answers.
A quest to awaken.
As part of my healing process, I eventually wrote a poem about that incredibly painful night. It was very cathartic, as was writing this chapter.
I have excerpted it here. The full version can be found in my book of mystical and inspirational poetry “At the Intersection of Strength and Light." The title is taken from a passage in "A Course in Miracles" - My guidebook for the spiritual journey over the past year.
I hope it inspires and gives hope to those who find themselves in situations that seem completely out of their control.
There is a path out of darkness.
Even in the darkest night, the light of God is never absent.
Blue eyes transformed into vacant pools
As black as the ink in the poet's pen
The mischievous twinkle I held so dear
Of which I thought I’d never see again
A carpet stained by fearful anger and rage
A cutting look that slices to the bone
A wall scattered and splayed
with the remnants of a heart betrayed
Turned into powder by love’s grinding stone
Unkind words that can’t be unsaid or forgotten
Bitter tears that were endlessly wept
A magnificent future tossed aside like refuse
Reminders of promises that could not be kept
Oh how could I have missed the signs
(If I have but one regret in this earthly life)
That exploded with the force of an atom bomb
Shattering the peace of that long, dark night
And yet this pain was the impetus sought
To know the truth, to see the light
To awaken that buried deep within
And rescue our souls from that long, dark night
F*CK That Night!