Perhaps it was fate, perhaps it was channel-surfing karma, perhaps just a bored reaction to the Hollywood writer’s strike, but in January 2008, I accidentally stumbled onto an HBO series that wrested the breath from my lungs, the strength from my knees and a large chunk of sanity from my mind....

It was just a simple television program; but for nine weeks; the gut wrenching dialogue between its characters and the white-hot sex appeal of its leading man left me catatonic, a hopeless, spellbound disciple for its nightly half-hour drama.  My obsession was other-worldly, fueled mainly by its handsome lead actor's dazzling portrayal of a caring, tortured therapist, torn by a desire for a woman he could not have.  Night after night, I watched him.  With steepled hands and piercing gaze, Dr. Paul Weston ministered to his patients with compassion and empathy.  But with each new episode, the sadness in his eyes betrayed him, revealing the fissures forming in his heart and the gradual unraveling of his personal life.  A riveting irony of epic proportions, the good doctor was never quite able to heal himself.

The give and take, the "will they" or "won't they" between Paul and his forbidden love was a masterful dance, the sexual tension taken to a crescendo by the brilliant acting of the smoldering and sensual,  Gabriel Byrne.  His delivery of lines was heart-breaking and subtle; his character spoke loudest when he said nothing at all.  With the down-casting of eyes, the hesitating response, he left me breathless with anticipation, waiting patiently for the moment of his heart's revelation. When it arrived, the confession was so quiet, it was almost feather-lite, but his emotions were so intense, his vulnerability so raw, that its effect was deafening. As the weeks went by, I became ridiculously obsessed with the show and consumed with thoughts of the actor,  I was, indeed, “touched” by this poet, this devastatingly handsome man. 

Eight weeks later, unable to hold back any longer, I confessed my bizarre and unexpected condition on a community forum dedicated to this series, In Treatment.  The response was an overwhelming outcry of sympathy and empathy from hundreds of like-minded women, all tortured by this malady, all held hostage by this same blue eyed demon. I talked of my teenage behavior, I hypothesized about secret pheromone beams shooting from his eyes, and I lobbed out a question that I have never quite been able to answer:

 "Gabriel Byrne, Gabriel Byrne, Gabriel Byrne, What in the world have you done to me?" 

Since that time, I’ve analyzed this obsession, and written my opinions  and the resulting posts have left breadcrumbs of my journey from crazy fan back to semi-normal adult.  I've also created a few fictional tales about the series and the friends I've met on the "In Treatment" Forum; friends who have said my words represent exactly how they too, have felt.    I’ve included all of it here for anyone who read more.  I hope you enjoy!