A Special Kind of Help

Dr. Shelley Neiderbach had sped out of Lincoln Center and was still
humming Carmen McRae as she crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. She was already
thinking about her head hitting the pillow. A longtime resident of New
York's friendly Brooklyn Heights, she didn't think much of the two
teenagers on the sidewalk near her car as she waited for the light to
turn. She wasn't the slightest bit concerned until she found herself
staring at a revolver.

"One guy stood in front of the car; another pointed the gun at my
head through the window. I only fully comprehended what was going on when
he tapped on the window and said, 'Move over or I'll blow your head
off.'"

Neiderbach slid over as one of the men took the wheel and the other
climbed in behind her, wrapped his left arm around her neck, and held the
gun to the back of her head. Then he began repeatedly smashing her skull
with the butt of his gun. She thought briefly about giving in to
unconsciousness until she noticed that both of her captor's hands were
wrapped around the gun, not her. She reached for the door latch and hit
the pavement at 30 mph.

The legal aspect of her trauma ended rather quickly. A
psychotherapist who had spent her first few years treating
"garden-variety neurotics," Neiderbach suddenly found herself in the role
of victim -- and patient. After she wore out the sympathy of friends by
telling of the experience again and again (as many victims must),
Neiderbach began to deteriorate. There followed a hospitalization for
"severe depression and other behaviors" and a search for help that
exhausted five therapists.

A full year and a half after the assault, Dr. Pauline Swede told
Neiderbach she wasn't sure what Neiderbach had -- it was four years before
PTSD was named or defined -- but she thought she could help her. "I wish I
could say something magical about the treatment," says Neiderbach, "but
the key was that she understood what I was feeling. She let me sort out
my feelings and let me go over it again and again until it was
okay."

Neiderbach was on the road to recovery when, one day in 1980, she
and a friend surprised a pair of burglars in her house. Neiderbach
offered her ring, cash, and watch. Suddenly, one of the thieves put a
knife to her throat. "I don't know where I got the calm voice," she says,
"but I just looked him in the eye and said, 'Look, you've got enough.' He
grabbed the other guy and ran."

She had no trouble picking the burglars from the mug shots. But
when she learned that the chances of the thieves -- juveniles -- getting
anything more than probation were slim, she opted not to prosecute. "The
thought of some guy being able to get his revenge on me was too much to
bear."

The next day Neiderbach had her "first and only vision in
life" -- the entire organization chart for what would become Crime Victims'
Counseling Services. "There were no organizations where people could go
and get the kind of support that they needed. All the services were
geared to the legal system -- you need a coherent witness, after all -- but
nothing to help victims deal with the trauma. And what we needed was a
place where victims could talk to other victims, realize they are not
crazy, and go over the incident again and again, if need be, until they
reached a level of acceptance and developed a rationale enabling them to
resume normal, day-to-day functioning."

A few years later, Neiderbach observed a disturbing trend. "People
were being traumatized again by therapists, who simply didn't know how to
treat PTSD." Thus Neiderbach launched the International Association of
Trauma Counselors to train and accredit those who can help trauma
victims.

As for her own recovery, "there is always a little piece hanging
around," she says. "I just recently became able to tolerate the New York
street-corner window washers. I was driving down the West Side Highway
one day, and it was pouring. I looked and saw only a solitary figure in
the road. The paranoia started again, but as I drew closer, I noticed a
sign in his hands. It said, 'Due to inclement conditions, window washing
has been canceled today.' I laughed myself silly. Sometimes that's all it
takes."