I realized something about myself last night. I'm finally able to put a name to the thing I'm feeling, that's left me emotionally crippled: it's shame.

Think of it this way: imagine you're a man with a daughter, to whom you've given your whole heart and everything you can. Now imagine that you have been publicly (and falsely) accused of abusing her. Try to imagine how you would feel every time you see her by accident, run into people you both know, happen upon anything that reminds you of her. Think about how hard it would be to keep going to the same places and associating with the same people, when every word feels accusatory and every look feels like suspicion.

That's how I feel at having been made out to be the kind of man who would hurt a woman, stalk a woman, harass a woman, force unwanted attentions on a woman, disregard a woman's volition and free will and try to browbeat her into acquiescence, or even intentionally make her uncomfortable and fearful. Do you understand now why I can't just keep going to church with her, keep being friends with all the same people, just act like nothing's happened? And worst of all, I still love them. Just like the father in my example would still love his daughter and, in spite of everything, still wish above all to be reconciled to her.

A while back, the wife and several children of a family I love were in a car accident. I heard about it, and went out and bought them some flowers and balloons and things, and went to visit them in the hospital. But on the way there, I was gripped with fear and almost turned around: I was afraid that, having heard these lies about me, the father was going to meet me outside their room and say, "I want you to stay away from my family."

It didn't happen that way, but I tell you this to illustrate the state of my heart because of all this. And everything is like this. Every single Sunday and Wednesday that I went to that church, after this started, I was afraid like that. That someone was going to take me aside and say, "Look, we think it would be better if you didn't come here anymore." Or that a deputy was going to be waiting for me with a restraining order.

Maybe you don't understand how the one thing could be as bad as the other for me, but it is. I love women. Always have. Even though my mother left when I was small and my stepmother treated me like a turd. I love women, and nothing--nothing in the world makes me happier than protecting them, taking care of them, being good and kind to them, making them happy, seeing them blossom and glow under my love and attention. I love women the way women love babies. I don't know why, that's just how God made me.

So when this happened once, it devastated me. When it happened a second time, it destroyed me. I am broken and I see no hope, save divine intervention, that I will ever fully recover.