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Wit Misseldine
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Anonymous Anesthesia Provider
To this day, I'm still grappling with how can someone that you love dearly and tried to give everything just turn around and betray you like it was nothing?
Wit Misseldine
From wandery. I'm wit misseldine. You're listening to this is actually happening.
Episode 387.
What if your partner accused you of attempted murder?
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Lindsey Graham
Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondry's American Scandal. In our latest series, three teenage boys from West Memphis, Arkansas are accused of a vicious triple homicide. There's no real evidence linking them to the crime except rumor and fear, and that'll be enough to convict them. Listen to American Scandal on the Wonder Ya or wherever you get your podcasts.
Anonymous Anesthesia Provider
Both of my parents are Vietnamese. They met in Vietnam and then they emigrated over here. A GI from the US army was kind enough to sponsor them so you know, they were like refugees in the Philippines and then they were brought over to Kansas and then that's how I came to be. So I was born in Emporia, Kansas. My dad went to college during the day and then at night he worked as a butcher and he was supporting a family of four. I think for a lot of like immigrants who come from like war torn countries, they're very much about assimilation. My dad was all about assimilation. He was in that survival state, fight or flight, like it's either sink or swim so I can support my family. So much of our lives. His whole thing was you need to learn English, you need to be Americanized. Your Vietnamese heritage has no meaning here. You need to just put that aside. I can't even speak Vietnamese, you know, I don't even have a relationship with my own mother. She can only speak Vietnamese. Her English, even after being in the States for 45 years now, her English isn't all that great. And So I spent 41 years having a mother who I could never really communicate with. And yeah, when I think about my childhood so much of it was just spent trying to fulfill my father's dream of his kids being able to thrive in a foreign country.
One of the core memories that have stuck with me as a four year old went camping with my family, we came back home and I'd fallen asleep and I was in one of those like child seats. And then I remember waking up and no one was in the car. My family was literally outside just kind of doing their thing. But I remember just feeling this abject terror of being abandoned and just screaming, begging for someone to like get me out. And I have no idea how long it took for someone to actually see me, but it felt like an eternity. That experience has completely imprinted how I experience the world. Just have this like existential dread that's just lingering in my system at all times where I don't feel safe. I had moments like that, a lot of moments like that that were like repeating itself where I felt alone, unseen, pressured to perform in a certain way in order to receive love. Because it's just how it is in like an immigrant family. Gotta go to school, you gotta get these grades so that you can get a career, so that you can, you know, make a lot of money. And if you don't do that, you're seen as a failure. Because why did I leave a war torn country if you, my child or children aren't going to take advantage of the sacrifice that I made for you?
It was very chaotic too. There was in the early stages, abuse from my father. He very much took on this like patriarchal approach with the family, very domineering, very controlling. Meanwhile, my mom would operate in this sort of like secret place. She identified as Catholic, but my dad was an atheist. So I was also growing up in a household with this sort of like divergent worldviews. And my mom would consistently have me lie to my father about us going to church or doing church activities. And it felt very confusing for me because it's like, wait, these aren't the teachings of the church, so why am I having to lie to my own father? And I think as a child I was forced to play this role of having to hold contradictory roles, just trying to appease everyone. And it really shaped who I became, who I am, right? Who I've become, like a peacemaker, someone who's very diplomatic, someone who has this capacity to see and everyone's perspective and empathize. And I empathize out of this adaptation to receive affection from them. But then the downside to being able to see all those sides Is, well, what about me? What do I want? What do I need? And I had no idea what I wanted as a kid because there was no space given to me to have an opinion. I learned early on to abandon myself in order to receive love.
Not only was I growing up in an environment where my father was preaching assimilation, I grew up in a suburb outside of Denver that was predominantly white. So I felt this pressure to conform. I'd be subject to a lot of teasing. And whenever I would have friends come over to my place, you know, they would make certain remarks about the smells that they smelled in my home or comments that felt derogatory because I would feel a lot of shame. The most prominent memory I have of my adolescence was eighth grade when I was expelled from middle school. I was one of the top students and this is like pre Columbine days. So a friend and I, we were morbidly fascinated with those mid-90s gangster movies. Boy, boys in the hood, menace to society. And so I had gone to the local Walmart, purchased like a 99 cent dart gun, spray painted it black. And it was just this inside joke between him and I. I brought it to school one day and he took it, brandished it around, scared a bunch of people. I got blamed for it and I subsequently got expelled. And at the time I thought that I would just go to another middle school, but my father guilted me into homeschooling. I just remember feeling shocked by that, but then also a lot of shame. The weird part about my homeschooling experience was my dad did not participate in educating me. He went to the middle school and our local high school, grabbed up all the books, literally handed it to me, and then I would spend the next two years. I devised my own curriculum and self taught through high school to the point where I was able to graduate two years early. I just remember that period being intensely lonely.
So I was 16 in the year 2000 and I went to the Community College of Denver, then transferred to a state school where I got dual bachelor's in chemistry and sociology. I decided to move out of my parents house. And the time that I moved out coincided with the time that my father lost our house. He was a software engineer by vocation, got laid off a couple of times in the 90s. And it led him to feel a little embittered by the whole process of being like a corporate worker. So he decided to day trade. And for a moment there he was successful. But then around 2001 the economy crashed and as a result he lost a Lot of money. Not just his, but other family members and friends. And, yeah, it ultimately led to him losing the house. From that point on, basically, to now, it's imprinted within my nervous system this feeling of having to be hyper independent. I think 2004, 2005. I'm 21 years old, and that's when my parents got divorced. They were just constantly at odds with one another, and it should have happened a long time ago. After they got divorced, my dad had moved to Florida, and we basically stopped talking to each other. And that really hurt because I felt a sense of abandonment there. He has a new girlfriend and he's trying to start his life again, but it doesn't seem like I'm being included in that life. As far as my mother, of course I felt bad for her, and I tried to support her in whatever way I could when they got divorced. But even after that, we never really developed a closer relationship.
So that first year, I found a very unusual job where I was transporting dead bodies across the state of Colorado. I would get paid $20 per body and remember picking up a deceased person at a hospice facility. And I'd never heard of hospice before. I didn't know that, like, people who were actively dying could go to a place where they were being treated with, like, dignity and their comfort measures being offered to them. And so I really identified with the philosophy behind hospice. And I think a lot of that had to do with just my internal experience of not feeling seen, not feeling wanted, feeling alone. It really resonated with me. And I talked to a nurse who worked there, and that's what ultimately led me to decide to go into nursing school because I wanted to go into hospice.
I went to nursing school, graduated at the end of 2008, and then started work at a nurse on a palliative care floor. Being a nurse, you know, here you are taking care of someone in their most vulnerable moment. It doesn't get any more vulnerable than death. And the fear, the existential dread, right? The sadness, the grief, all of those, like, emotions that are very challenging to process, emotions that I feel like our society does not give space for us to really have. I felt drawn to that because I felt like I've been dealing with that my entire life. And so to see people go through that sort of distress, I could sense that. I can feel that. And I know how to offer presence to that where we're not fixing anything. We're just giving space for that experience to unfold in whatever shape it needs to. To me, that's like, what real healing is. That's what true healing is. And that's what drew me to nursing.
I'd never been in a relationship before, and growing up in a predominantly Caucasian environment, it led me to internalize this belief that, oh, it's because I'm Asian. So as a result, it was something that I had always wanted to experience. So I met this person in nursing school. She was someone I was very drawn to, someone who was very intellectual and someone who I could have. Just these really amazing conversations on a whole variety of subjects and topics felt really invigorating. And we decided to move to LA together, where we worked at the same hospital. And we were together for five and a half years. After those five and a half years, it was just kind of clear that our paths were diverging. And perhaps we stayed in the relationship longer than we were supposed to because of this fear that I had about not wanting to be alone. I'd rather be in a dysfunctional relationship than not be in a relationship, which is making me realize how much of that is a reflection of my upbringing. And the way that my parents defined love through their actions was, it's a duty. Like, it doesn't matter if you actually love the person. It doesn't matter if you are incompatible. You just gotta do it through brute strength. You're gonna make this work.
I just went from partner to partner to partner. There was really no lag time. I never gave myself space to grieve or to reflect on what I learned from that past relationship, because the terror of being alone, it just led me to be a serial monogamous.
2012. That's when I decided to go back to graduate school. I just felt like bedside nursing was burning me out. So I went back to graduate school to become a nurse anesthetist. Anesthesia. To me, it felt like the perfect sort of bridge between. Between what I loved about being a nurse, but then limiting how much of that emotional, spiritual energy that I had to give up. This is when I had met my next partner. She was a classmate of mine, and it was a really lovely time. It was really amazing. She was a very caring, loving person. We were putting in 50, 60 hours being in the hospital while also having to study anesthesia. Your whole life was consumed by graduate school. So it felt really nice to be able to, like, commiserate in that with someone else in a romantic way too.
When we graduated at the end of 2014, there was this really wild experience that happened for her. I'd say, like, a month before we were to graduate. It was a Friday in July. She's leaving the hospital, and then she gives me a call, crying. So she has two older siblings, an older brother and a middle sister. Her older brother had died of an overdose back in 1999. Her sister had also been struggling with substance abuse due to some medical issue. But, yeah, that day she called me, she told me that her sister had also overdosed. And she spent that whole weekend grieving the loss of her family member. And she was drinking all weekend, which I just felt like. I'm not gonna interject. This is your process. I'm just here to provide support for you.
On that third day. So it's a Sunday. She develops appendicitis, and I had to take her to the emergency room, where she had to have this emergent appendectomy. And then a few days later, she flies to Ohio, which is where her sister's from, to go to her funeral. And then she gets violently sick. And her cat of 16 years, who's with me, is actively dying, so she has to come back and put her cat to sleep. Those two weeks was just really hellacious for her. And it's like, oh, I can be here for you. I can hold space for this. I want to do this, because that's what love is. And from then on, we just. We were a couple. We decided to become domestic partners in 2016, and it did feel very loving. She was someone that I felt like I could rely on, because in order to get through our program, in order to work, the jobs that we do requires a high degree of awareness and discipline and stability, like, emotional stability. So she was like my rock, and I think vice versa, too. And we were traveling around the world together. We bought a rental property together. We were doing the things that adults do. We also were part of this core group of friends of, like, three or four other couples who are all working professionals. And it was, like, the first time in my life where I felt like I belonged. And it was just this amazing, ineffable experience.
But then, yeah, there would be moments where she would perhaps imbibe a little too much, and then it would require me to take care of her. Whether it was having to leave a party early because she was stumbling and slurring her words, or, you know, saying something that was, like, really off the cuff and not okay, or, you know, in the middle of the night. She would drink so much that it would lead to her developing these migraines where she'd be screaming at night and then throwing up, and then I'D have to take care of her. And these are things that I would bring up, you know, the next day, like, hey, you know, do you think maybe that's a little too much and of course. Right. And when you're having that kind of conversation with some high functioning professionals, you know what you're going to say? Yeah, of course, yeah, yeah. Let's, let's implement a plan. It's really easy to like, talk about what we're going to do. And yeah, you do do it for the first week, two weeks. But then eventually we go back to the same pattern. It's a little too much. Go overboard. Something happens. And yeah, over nine years to have that pattern repeated over and over and over. There's this erasing of the self that's happening. How many times am I supposed to say this? How many times are we supposed to have this conversation? Because it feels like we're coming back to the same thing. And I'm starting to feel unseen. I'm feeling uncared for, unloved. But what relationship is perfect? You know? And then I found myself going into that other space. Love as devotion. 1. Well, you know, I'm not perfect. Of course not. I have my flaws. I'm sure if you talk to her, she'd be able to list out like a bunch of them. So, yeah, we're just going to have to work through this. It's not a big deal. That's just been my relationship with her. Use of alcohol, trying to figure out ways to set limits without feeling like I'm controlling her, but then feeling like my boundaries were being trampled on. But she's a very high functioning individual and the ways that she was contributing to our relationship, the way that she was loving me, the way that we worked together as partners, she really did feel like my person. And so, yeah, it just kept me in this relationship, even though the drinking was problematic for me and I had to compartmentalize that and do that thing that my parents did. We're going to stay together because you have to. Foreign.
Wit Misseldine
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Anonymous Anesthesia Provider
In those nine years that we were together, every time we saw her parents, there was always some sort of crisis brewing that needed to be resolved by her. And it occurred to me that she was playing the role of the parentified child. She very much took care of them. She had two older siblings who now both passed away from drug overdoses. So we never had a moment where we got to spend time together as a family. It was always some sort of crisis was happening. And then my role was to basically be her emotional support because at the end of her spending time with her parents or us spending time with them, she would just be completely depleted because she was just trying to keep the ship afloat.
The turning point for me was March of 2021 1. Her mother had been really sick during that time and we were actually thinking that she was gonna die and so she had to go back home to try to set up hospice.
One day she's calling me hysterically crying and telling me that her mom's trying to kill her. And then I can hear her mom in the background screaming that that wasn't true, that it was her last remaining surviving daughter who was trying to kill her.
At that point I just kind of realized like, oh my gosh, this situation is getting out of control. You got to get yourself out of that, out of your parents home. And as she's trying to leave, she notices her mom running out the back door half naked, screaming for help. And I'm just imploring her to forget about her mom because at this point, this thing has just gotten totally out of control. Just go to the front yard, hang out there, call the emt, call the hospice nurse, find other professionals to diffuse the situation. The hospice nurse and the EMT arrive. They end up taking their mother, transporting her to a nearby hospital where she ends up being transferred to, I think like a nursing home. So she's there, just totally emotionally spent. And I'm thinking to myself, she's going to come home in the next day or two. And then the day after, I'm at work and I get this strange text from her friend. It's a co worker of hers at the hospital that she works at. And she's imploring me to go to Ohio right away. Which is really confusing and alarming to me because number one, I'm like in the operating room. Not like I can just drop everything and then take a three, four hour flight across the country. So I call her friend in the operating room and it just asks like, what is going on here? And she's telling me like I don't know what she's saying to me. I'm really scared. I, I just called the police department to head over to her parents home. I really think that you need to like take a red eye and get her out of there. It feels like a dangerous situation.
I immediately leave the operating room. Someone's covering me. I call my ex and the first thing I hear is just this yelp and her just repeating herself. He's trying to kill me. He's trying to kill me. And again, I'm confused and I'm going, what are you saying to me? What's going on? My father, he won't leave me alone. He keeps knocking on my door when I'm telling him I need my own space, I gotta get out of here. Next thing I know, I hear a man's voice. Not her father, it's just some stranger. And first thing he says to her is, ma', am, ma', am, did you just cut yourself?
She's basically talking to whoever's in that room. She's like, don't worry, everyone. It's not what it looks like. When I experience extreme emotional pain, I have to resort to cutting myself. So I'd never heard that from her before. I'm totally confused by what is going on here. It was just so shocking. You went to Ohio to get your mom onto hospice, and now we're in a situation where your mom is at a nursing home because she had psychotic break. You're so exhausted from trying to help your parents and you have no emotional support that you just, like, resorted to this extreme measure of adapting. I just remember telling her, like, it sounds like there's a medical professional there. Let them take care of you. I will figure out the rest. And so we hang up. And then I'm texting furiously with her friend, and we're trying to coordinate getting me to Ohio the next morning. That's what ends up happening. And she's checked into a psych unit. And I'll just never forget what I saw. Like, just see someone that you love and are just so familiar with. Just to see her completely shattered and broken, it was just really tragic to see that what came up for me was just, like, a lot of tenderness and love and care for her. Just like, oh, my God, I'm so sorry that that happened to you. I can take care of you. Just come with me. Let's go. Let's go home.
That flight back, it was wild because two times she had, like, a panic attack on the airplane where she's, like, shaking and, like, crying and trying to keep herself from losing control. And I'm trying to play this, like, super controlled, calm person. Like, hey, it's okay. Just breathe. You're fine. You're safe here with me. But inside I was just, like, completely terrified.
So I bring her back to LA, and it's March of 2021. I take a leave of absence for about two, three weeks to take care of her. I have friends in the mental health space who are helping us. And the first day I go back to work, I'm calling her on my lunch break, and she sounds drunk, and I'm just floored. It's like a gut punch to me. I just remember asking her, like, are you drunk right now? And she admitted that she was. And then I just felt the sense of betrayal that just had been, like, brewing from our past that I've had to compartmentalize. But this time it was just like, this is too much. You had a serious emergency happen that required me to fly across the country to get you. And then I took time off from work to take care of you, to set up your therapist, to set up psychiatric care. And the first day that I leave, you're drinking. This is that moment where I'm starting to feel like, oh man, my limit is just getting touched here and I'm not sure what to do.
It would ultimately lead us into having like this terrible conflict. And I went to a mutual friend's home, was basically saying, I don't know if we're going to be able to be together because I can't support this. And I distinctly remember this friend, who's also her friend mentioning to me, if you leave, I'm terrified that she's going to hurt herself and that she's going to have to be checked into a behavioral health center. I just remember being overcome by this emotion of sadness and grief, being stuck, and then just hearing my friend out and deciding, okay, fine, I'm going to stay.
I remember going home and walking into our place and then just like hugging her and telling her that it was going to be okay and that we were going to get through this. And she was sobbing in my shoulders and I could feel a part of myself just totally become broken because that's not really what I wanted.
Every time I thought about leaving, when I got to the cusp of like leaving the relationship, I could just feel this existential terror just coursing through my body where I was like, oh yeah, no, I can't have that. I just don't know if I can survive that.
On top of my work in the operating room, I was working in the ketamine therapy space, working with patients who had like PTSD depression and just became interested in how non ordinary states of consciousness leads to healing outcomes and led me into learning about somatic trauma therapy modalities. For me, my work in the ketamine space wasn't just like this medical procedure where we followed a strict protocol to treat someone with major depressive disorder. It was very much heart centered. It meant really understanding someone's whole biopsychosocial cultural context, who they are, what they live through, what safety meant to them. And that way of being wasn't just professional for me. Right. It also became personal. It's the same lens I brought into my relationship with my ex. Trying to meet both of us with compassion and awareness even when things were hard. I was scared of her experience and my way of coping with it was to be very clinical, very caregiver esque in my approach with her care. But then unbeknownst to me, she started using ketamine in ways that were not therapeutic.
In July of 2022, it was like a Saturday night. I had just come home from hanging out with friends and I opened the door and I could sense something was off in the air. Didn't know what it was until I walked into my bedroom. And then I saw her in a position that no one should ever have to see their loved one. But it did involve the use of ketamine and alcohol was mixed in with that. And it was just very terrible. Jaw dropping. Shocking thing to witness, especially in light of the fact that I was working with this stuff professionally. It was one of those moments where I just kind of realized, oh, this is fucked up.
The next day we talked about it. I actually took a video of what I saw and sent it to her just so she could see, because what's there to say? And I thought it would just be a one time thing. And then three weeks later, the same thing happens.
I find myself back in that space again of like, I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I feel completely stuck here. I feel so violated. But I can't leave you because I'm too scared to. And I'm also hopelessly devoted to you. You're sick. I need to help you get back to health. We made a vow to be each other's life partners. And I'm gonna stick to that, regardless of what it does to me. The second time that I catch her, which is August of 2022, we alert her therapists, we alert our couple's therapists. She goes back into AA, and August to December 2022, our relationship is just like hanging by a thread. We end up having five mental health providers supporting us.
So it's December 12, 2022. She just finished working a 12, 13 hour shift. It's a Monday night. I just finished working shift myself. That particular day. We were not getting along. We come home, not really on speaking terms. I go to bed. She stays in the living room. That night, she once again decides to imbibe. And the grief, the sadness, the anger, the resentment, just all of it for both of us coming to a head. It led to a really unfortunate evening, which thankfully I had recorded because that would. That's what would happen when I would catch her in those situations. I would record it to send it to her so that she could see what I was saying.
Nine days goes by and we're talking to each other. We went to the Botanical gardens. We had Korean barbecue. That afternoon, we watched Home Alone 2 that night. A day later, she cuts my hair. And then after that, I go see my mom in Florida for five of those nine days. And then December 21st rolls around and I'm at the hospital. We're in a group text thread with some friends about Christmas plans. We're finalizing our plans to go to Ohio to spend Christmas with her mom and dad because there's this strong belief that her mom's days were numbered. I'm driving home, try to call her. She doesn't answer. I'm a mile from my place. I'm on the phone with another friend, just talking to him about the fight that we had on December 12. And then next thing I know, I hear this sound above my car.
Searchlight just kind of drops down near my car, and it's, like, moving around. And I'm on the phone with my friend going, oh, my God, there's something crazy happening around me. So I'm looking around to see, like, where this, like, light is going to shine on. I look up through my moon roof. This helicopter is literally overhead. And then this light drops directly onto me. Within seconds, two police cruisers come in the front, two in the back. Lights are on me. Eight officers, I think, jump out, and guns are unholstered. And they're telling me to get out of the car and get on my knees, and I'm just like, what the fuck?
I get out of the car, get on my knees, and it is the craziest experience when that helicopter just circling you is just so loud. You can just feel the lights pressing on you, and you're just seeing, like, the silhouettes of these, like, police officers, and just none of it feels real.
I get arrested. They take me to the station. At this time, they haven't formally charged me. My Miranda rights haven't been read. I'm sitting in the interrogation room. This direct detective sits in front of me, and he's just asking me, do you know why you're here? I'm guessing it has something to do with the fight that she and I had. He's like, yeah, when did it happen? December 12th. At what time? Midnight. And I just remember this, like, little voice, like, of all those, like, Law and Order episodes that I've, like, seen in the past. Don't talk. Even though your case is compelling here, keep your mouth shut. And at that point, I'm just like, hey, I need to talk to a lawyer. They move me into this booking area. They tell me to take my clothes off and to put on these jail scrubs and then the police officer said to me, we're charging you with attempted murder.
Every part of my being was like, if I can just show you guys the text messages, if you talk to our therapists, if I could show you all the videos, you know that that's not what happened, but that's not how it works. You're just like, all of a sudden thrown into this, like, game. And the moment that he said that, I had to dissociate. I just remember telling myself distinctly, at this point, you're being scrutinized. They're gonna look at you, watch every move that you make. So do not say a word. I get taken to Compton county jail. This is December 22nd now. I'm transferred to three different cells. It's like this really weird, surreal experience where I'm just like, I'm literally supposed to be at the hospital today. I'm putting patients to sleep. I don't understand how I'm sitting here on an attempted murder charge. This, this, this doesn't make any sense to me.
It takes about 13 hours before I'm given a phone call. At the time, I only wrote down two numbers because I just wasn't thinking clearly. So I wrote down my boss's number because that was the first thing on my mind. I need to call off work. And then the friend that I had talked to right before it all happened, so I try to call them. They don't answer. In that moment, that was like the single scariest experience for me. I don't know how I'm going to get a hold of anyone on the outside because I only have these two phone numbers. So what should I do next?
On the wall are these stickers to, like, these bondsmen call. This guy picks up, gets my case number, and he says to me, do you know what your bail is set at? Oh, please enlighten me. It's a million dollars. Do you know how hard it is to get a million dollar bond? I was like, yeah, here's the thing, dude. I'm a nurse anesthetist. I have a home, it's worth $2 million, and I have $130,000 cash. He's like, let me get your information. I will be there in a few hours. A few hours goes by. There I am sitting with this plexiglass partition dividing us. And then he turns, tells me that I called your soon to be ex twice. Since you both own the house, do you know what she said to me both times? I was like, please enlighten me. She was crying, begging me not to help you, because if I let you out, you were going to finish the job. And he basically tells me, because we're co owners, she won't let me put the house up. So I'm stuck in jail. And because it's the holidays, my court arraignment isn't going to be until December 27th, and so I'm going to have to spend five days in there. I go to sleep. I get woken up at around 4am on December 23. A deputy opens my cell, calls out my name. I'm like, yes. He's like, let's go. Well, where are we going? Shut the fuck up. Let's go. Wrists are shackled, ankles are shackled. They take me to downtown la, put me in a cell for several hours, put me back onto the bus. They take me to the LAX courthouse. Now, I'm sitting in a room where a lady in this, like, black sweater comes in in gray slacks, and she's like, hey, your court arraignment's in five minutes. So you can either use me or, you know, represent yourself. A case gets called, and this is the first time I'm getting to hear the DA share her side of the story. So in the night of question, we get into an argument about her using substances and drinking alcohol, which she vehemently denies. Later on that night, I approach her and it turns into this big argument because I'm pissed off that she woke me up from being restless, as she put it. It would turn into this violent struggle where I punch her in the face, punch her in the ribs, throw her down on the ground, choke her out, put a pillow over her face and say the following. Shut up. Shut up. I'll make you shut up forever. After she passes out, I inject her with intramuscular ketamine and leave the house.
At that point, a hush falls across the courtroom. Everyone looks at me, including the inmates. You just feel everyone judging me. And, yeah, when you're hearing that story, it's like, holy shit, this person is dangerous. Oh, my God. I just remember having this, like, feeling of dread. Just waves and waves of dread just, like, hitting me. Like, oh, my God, my life is in danger on so many levels. And now that, like, everyone's heard this story and I'm in jail, dude, who knows what's gonna happen to me in here? This is nuts.
The judge keeps my bail at a million dollars. My public defender's argument was, he's a nurse with no priors, so he keeps my bail at a million Dollars sets my court date to be January 13th. So it's December 23rd. No one knows where I'm at. This, this is utter insanity. I get transported to the Twin towers in downtown la. And the way that they treat inmates, I mean, I get it. To be in that environment, it's really hard. And it hardens you really fast and you just don't have any compassion for people. But it's just kind of hard when you're not of that world and you're in it and you're being treated like that. They'd be screaming expletives, right? Like, get the F off the bus, you're effing, Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Take your clothes off, get on your knees, spread your butt cheeks. You're like, okay. Wow. This is. We're just straight dehumanizing people right now. And then I get to have the pleasure of having my first group shower. I'm this skinny 135 pound Vietnamese guy. And walking in the shower past these two inmates, muscular, tattooed, talking to each other. And then they see me. Oh, oh. And they ogle at me. And then I get on a new pair of scrubs. At that moment, we move into the inmate reception center. It just hyper violent. You just see like multiple fights. I remember this one fight where, where this Hispanic individual walked by an African American male who was chained to a bit and they were jawing at each other. And then the Hispanic guy just straight clocks this guy across the face and just starts beating him down. The deputies come by and I distinctly remember a female deputy holding back her colleagues while they were watching this beat down happen with like a look of glee on her face. It was just a horrifying experience to just witness. This is just unbelievable.
Christmas Eve, they moved me into another space. This space has bunk beds and individual holding cells. And in the individual holding cells you have people who are on suicide watch. So they're on, you know, they're wearing suicide vests, but they're naked. And it is super cold in that space. I cannot tell you how incredibly cold it is. But those guys, they're just banging on the door, spitting at the window, smearing their feces, screaming for someone to get them the F out. And yeah, you're just sitting next to that, listening to this throughout the day on Christmas Eve. And one of the inmates in the cell block next to mine, someone tucked some bed sheets underneath the door for him and he hung himself.
To come from a hospital setting where we value life, it's so striking to be in an Environment that doesn't value life. This place is so brutal that no one really cares. It's hard to describe how that, like, impacts your body. You just, it's just, you just feel so dead.
The 26th, I meet with a psychiatrist. She asked me if I'm suicidal. I remember taking a moment and just scoffing at the question. Here's my biggest concern. Just look at me. I'm the skinny Asian guy. My biggest fear is getting sexually assaulted and there's nothing here to protect me. The only way I can get out of this is if I tell you I'm suicidal. But what's that going to mean for me? You're going to put me in a cell naked, wearing a suicide vest? So now I'm caught in between this impossible choice. Do I choose to be stuck in a cell where I'm freezing or do I take my chances with the general population? Her response is like, yeah, no, you're right. You're right. I'm gonna put you in a safe place. I'm gonna put you in like the mental health wing. I get taken to this massive space, four rows of bunk beds stretching from one end of the room to the other. There's about a hundred inmates in there. And later that night, I actually make bail. It's a group of my sister, her two ex husbands, my ex girlfriend, her ex husband and his other ex girlfriend, and my uncle. So that group came up with a million dollars to get me out. And then I get out and then I end up calling my friend who I talked to before I got arrested. And he told me, let me just tell you that you cannot talk to anyone right now. It's unsafe for you because she's called all of our friends. She called the hospital, should call your bosses. It's just not looking good for you right now. You just need to be careful with like, who you reach out to. That was December 29th.
I relied heavily on this close knit group of friends of about 10 people who were helping me make decisions to strategize, like, what I should do next. Because there was so much to do in the beginning stages of criminal investigation, that ends up being an investigation by the attorney general as well. And then you're being hit with a civil lawsuit. So I'm having three cases come at me at once. On top of that, my employer reached out and decided to put me on investigative leave. I remember having a lot of nightmares of just falling into this existential abyss and just feeling as though my life had just been born blown up. Feeling like I was a pariah feeling that everything that I had worked for up to that moment, especially in the last five years, just really dedicating my professional and even personal life towards healing trauma. And now here I am thrown into the ultimate traumatic experience.
It's just an awful feeling. I would never wish this on my worst enemy.
Lindsey Graham
In 1993, three 8 year old boys were brutally murdered in West Memphis, Arkansas. As the small town local police struggled to solve the crime. Rumors soon spread that the killings were the work of a satanic cult. Suspicion landed on three local teenagers, but the there was no real evidence linking them to the murders. Still, that would not protect them. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondry show American Scandal. We bring to life some of the biggest controversies in US History. Presidential lies, environmental disasters, corporate fraud. In our latest series, three teenage boys are falsely accused of a vicious triple homicide. But their story doesn't end with their trials or convictions. Instead, their plight will capture the imagination imagination of the entire country and spark a campaign for justice that will last for almost two decades. Follow American Scandal on the Wondry app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge all episodes of American scandal. The West Memphis 3 early and ad free right now on Wondery. In the fall of 1620, a battered merchant ship called the Mayflower set sail across the Atlantic. It carried 102 men, women and children. Children risking it all to start again in the new world. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of American Historytellers. Every week we take you through the moments that shaped America. And in our latest season, we explore the untold story of the Pilgrims, one that goes far beyond the familiar tale of the first Thanksgiving. After landing at Cape Cod, the Pilgrims forged an unlikely alliance with the Wampanoag people who helped the Pilgrims survive the most brutal winter they'd ever known. Laying the foundation foundation for a powerful national myth. But behind that story lies another one of conflict, betrayal, and brutal violence against the very people who helped the Pilgrim survive. Follow American Historytellers on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge all episodes of American Historyteller's the Mayflower early and ad free right now on Wondery.
Anonymous Anesthesia Provider
During that time, I was just vacillating through this cycle of just a chronic, persistent state of sympathetic activation. I just had no idea where the case was headed. And I was also spending tens of thousands of dollars every month paying for these legal fees. So I was just working furiously. And while I'm in the or I'm Getting random texts from multiple lawyers imploring me to get some information as soon as possible. And so, like, never ending pressure to perform without having any sort of knowing how it was going to get resolved. I'm just so grateful that I had those friends who let me stay with them so that I could just focus on staying afloat. There was also a fear during that time, a fear of allowing myself to really feel that anger. I needed to be as clear and rational as possible because I had felt into my anger the night of our fight, and look what happened.
At my criminal case, the Attorney General said that they were going to make a special appearance to recommend suspending my license pending the outcome of the criminal investigation. So leading up to that day, my licensing attorney asked me to get as many letters of recommendations that I could get professionally and personally. Just asking someone for a letter of recommendation is already a huge ask, and to ask them to write it in three days is also a huge ask. But I reached out to 33 people, most of them from the Department of Anesthesiology, as well as some close friends, mutual friends of both my ex and I. And I got 33 letters in two days.
It was really touching, you know, to be able to read what people said about me. It really did make me feel that I was loved.
So in May of 2023, there is a private meeting between my defense attorney, the private investigator that he hired, and the DA overseeing my case, as well as the supervisor DA of the region. My attorney presents our entire case, which he said was a very unusual move, to let them know, like, this is what you're dealing with. Good luck on trying to push back on that. And I think they realized that perhaps my ex had misrepresented a lot of details of what had happened.
It took about two months. I had just gotten back from a kayaking trip, and I'll never forget it. We were driving through the canyons in the Central Valley, going back to la, and they told me that the DA decided to throw it out. The case was dismissed for a variety of reasons. The evidence that I shared, text messages, videos, the therapists who were helping us. But also the day of my arrest, when I was communicating with her, she had actually gone into all of our bank accounts and wiped it clean, unbeknownst to me. And the other question that people had too, was, well, if the inciting incident was on December 12, why would you wait nine days to report it? Especially when he was gone? Me, when I was gone for five of those nine days across the other side of the country that would have been your perfect opportunity to escape.
Just a wave of like relief fell over me. Just weeping, thinking, like, wow, this eight, nine month nightmare has like finally come to an end. To just carry that sort of burden of uncertainty and not knowing where your life is going to go and to be threatened like that on an existential level and for it to just basically come rushing back.
To have your freedom be threatened like that and, and to have it back, you just have this like renewed sense of like appreciation for everything.
My stomach was just tight all the time, my chest was, and breathing was just constricted. And I would just have to constantly practice these like mindfulness techniques in order to just get back into my body, but it was just impossible. But the moment that that case got dismissed, there was this like expansion, this like feeling of release.
And slowly I started to reconnect with my social network. People started to learn the truth and my life started coming back to normal. And then I actually threw an exoneration party, February 2024, where I invited those 33 people who wrote the letters of recommendation for me and also 27 other individuals who played some sort of role in keeping me afloat. And I thought that that was it, it was done. But yeah, this year, I'll admit, was the first time that I actually touched into the trauma of everything that had happened. Really at the heart of it. The dissolution of a nine year relationship.
I had never experienced that kind of grief before. It feels like death. There were so many moments where I felt suicidal because there was a part of me that had died and that I was finally able to give space, to grieve and to experience what it needed to experience. And it was God awful. I'm still picking up the pieces in many ways.
Confronting some of my core fears of being abandoned, being alone, being unloved, and the ways in which I betrayed myself, Especially in that relationship.
I found myself still feeling a lot of like, compassion towards my ex, not to excuse what she did. Of course I'm upset, of course I was angry. But I found myself just leaning into, for lack of a better term. And I know this sounds hokey, but leaning into love. Even though my life was thrown into danger. I know somewhere deep down you did not mean to do what you did. And right now your unresolved trauma is in full force. And it's everything that you had to deal with in your life and struggle with is now being totally projected onto me. I'm the projection of all the things that went wrong in your life.
Seeing where she was coming from and just being able to tap into that capacity to, like, hold compassion for what she did. But then also not erasing my own experience, which is, you totally betrayed me.
That was the only way that I could hold on to my humanity. If I stayed leaning in compassion and love and forgiveness for myself and towards her, because anything outside of that anger, hate, resentment, it would just. It would just tear me apart.
I think about my work as a healthcare provider. In the hospitals, there is this societal expectation that family members or loved ones stay with the sick person till the very end. No one questions that. But when it comes to mental health, quote, unquote issues, we start asking questions like, well, are you guys codependent? Like, well, why didn't you leave sooner? To this day, I still struggle with finding an answer that makes sense to me. Sickness is. Sickness is sickness, whether it's of a physical nature or of a mental health nature. But the reality is, is there really a discernment between the two when everything really is connected?
I think about the compassion that I have for her for all those years of just having to take care of her, of all those transgressions. And then, yeah, that one night where it just spiraled out of control between us, I thought that maybe she would give me a break. But apparently that's not how she experienced it and she decided to just detonate our entire life.
It's something that to this day, I'm still grappling with. How can someone that you love dearly and tried to give everything just turn around and betray you like it was nothing.
I spent my life professionally, personally, trying to expand my capacity. But to what? For what? And for the longest time, it was like, under this guise of, like, expanding capacity to, like, hold other people's pain, to help them be seen. And I know I succeeded in that. I'm also realizing that, like, while I'm expanding my capacity to see people, can anyone really see and hold my pain? And just doesn't feel like that's true at all.
This journey has really been about learning how to love myself. I do an exceptional job of holding space for others, but can I do that for myself? This, like, infinite compassion, infinite love, but realizing that, like, I still carry some level of self loathing. So this stage in my life is about learning how to be more gentle, more tender with myself, with the parts of myself that never got the thing that it needed, Whether it was from my family or from my intimate partners. That's a process of becoming. It's about having this capacity of Staying present inside your reality as it is, even when it doesn't make sense.
These days I feel a lot of dysregulation. It feels very scary. I still feel this like hyper vigilance. But the difference is I'm able to access it from a place of awareness as opposed to being reactive to it and engaging in behaviors or actions that cause me to avoid feeling what I'm feeling.
The most difficult truth that I've had to accept was, you know, I betrayed myself long before my ex betrayed me.
I stayed in a situation that was damaging me on so many levels because I mistook endurance for love. I had this deeply embedded belief that, you know, if I could just understand her pain, and it's not just her, it could be anyone really. If I could understand anyone's pain deeply enough, it would set save us both. And what I called compassion was is self abandonment in disguise.
And I think on some level I have to face this like truth, that my need to heal others is maybe a way for me to avoid healing myself.
Devotion without like self preservation becomes like complicity in your own suffering. That's been the hardest mirror to look into and I guess that's my hope in the years to come is taking that pause in whatever situation I'm in. And rather than like reflexively reacting in a way where it's like, oh, I'm going to do this in order to receive this. It's more, no, let's just take a moment, pause, hold space there and just feel into what is. Is your nervous system wanting right now? What do I want? To be honest, I have no idea. I have no idea what I want. This whole experience has basically introduced me back to myself. I've come to realize that like, I'm not my job, I'm not my money, I'm not the house I had. I'm not, you know, where I live. The thing that matters most to me now is am I acting from a place where I'm honoring where I'm at in this moment, at every given moment, and it's priceless.
Wit Misseldine
Today's storyteller wishes to remain anonymous. If you'd like to connect with him, there's an email address in the show notes. He's an anesthesia provider in California. His path has been shaped by loss, resilience and the quiet work of rebuilding a life. He uses storytelling to make sense of what cannot be explained and to find meaning in the spaces language cannot reach.
From Wondry. You're listening to this is actually happening. If you love what we do Please rate and review the show. You can subscribe on Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music or on the Wondery app to listen ad free and get access to the entire back catalog. In the episode notes you'll find some links and offers from our sponsors. By supporting them, you help us bring you our show for free. I'm your host Wit Misseldine. Today's episode was co produced by me and Andrew Waits with special thanks to the this Is Actually Happening T team including Ellen Westberg. The opening music features the song Sleep Paralysis by Scott Velasquez. You can join the community on the this Is Actually Happening discussion group on Facebook or follow us on Instagram Actually Happening on the show's website thisisactuallyhappening.com you can find out more about the podcast. Contact us with any questions, submit your own story or visit the store where you can find this Is Actually Happening Happening designs on stickers, T shirts, wall art, hoodies and more. That's thisisactually happening dot com. And finally, if you'd like to become an ongoing supporter of what we do, go to patreon.com happening. Even 2 to $5 a month goes a long way to support our vision. Thank you for listening.
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Episode 387: What if your partner accused you of attempted murder?
Release Date: December 9, 2025
Host: Wit Misseldine
Storyteller: Anonymous Anesthesia Provider
This episode chronicles the extraordinary and harrowing personal account of a Vietnamese American anesthesia provider who is blindsided when his long-term partner accuses him of attempted murder. The storyteller details his upbringing as the child of immigrants, the complexities of his relationship, his partner’s mental health and substance issues, and the catastrophic fallout of being falsely accused. Through his voice, the episode grapples with themes of self-abandonment, the trauma of betrayal, the blurred lines between caregiving and self-sacrifice, and the process of self-rebuilding after devastation.
[02:10 – 10:42]
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[62:18 – End]
The episode is raw, introspective, and emotionally candid, with the anonymous storyteller alternating between clinical clarity and devastating vulnerability. His tone is adamantly non-sensational; instead, it's marked by self-examination, empathy—including for his accuser—and open-ended questioning of the meaning of love, duty, and self-preservation.
This powerful episode spotlights the intersection of trauma, mental health, devotion, and the limits of compassion in loving another person. The storyteller's ordeal—culminating in both his exoneration and profound inner reckoning—offers listeners a rare, uncut look at how identity, caregiving, and self-betrayal can collide in the most unimaginable way, and what it takes to rediscover self-love amidst ruin.