Thread by @reecelyons_

In light of recent conversations surrounding a newly released Netflix show, I have decided to come forward and share my experience with this individual throughout the casting process.

Please read the thread below for further context.

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"The behavior you describe is very characteristic of somebody with borderline personality disorder," my therapist stated matter-of-factly. "I can’t make a formal diagnosis since I’ve never met him. But from what you’ve said, he certainly seems to fit the criteria."

I had met him in the bar after one of my shows.

He was with a friend; they both approached me after my performance to congratulate me, and that’s when he offered to buy me a drink.

But before I could respond with my usual, “No, thanks!” to the offer of a drink from a man I did not yet know, I recognised him.

He had followed me on Instagram a month prior, at the very beginning of the run, and that’s when I realised that this wasn’t a chance encounter, but he was specifically here to speak with me.

“Sure,” I replied.

We split off from his friend, and he began to tell me about his upcoming Netflix show that he had written. The role in question was that of his ex-girlfriend, a trans woman. "I didn’t treat her the best," he said. I wondered what that meant.

I told him I was interested in auditioning and asked him to get in touch with my agent at the time. "But there is one other thing," he said. “What?" I replied. "I find you really attractive."

“But you want me to audition to play your ex-girlfriend who you mistreated, and date you at the same time?!” I thought.

Not knowing that this lack of sense of boundaries would soon become one of the first of many signs that I was dealing with somebody who potentially exhibited Cluster B personality traits, in which there are nine diagnostic criteria.

The following day, I decided to read the play the series was based on.

I found myself awestruck and yet simultaneously horrified.

I was amazed by the bravery and candidness with which he spoke about the varying degrees of trauma he had been through in his life, yet I also couldn’t help but notice how in all of the situations he was the common denominator.

But what I found particularly troubling, were the ways in which he spoke about how he mistreated his trans ex-girlfriend, hiding her in secrecy, and the ways in which internalised transphobia and shame could coexist with desire.

“Will he treat me like that?” I thought.

The next week, he asked me out on a date, and I said yes.

I was mindful of the overlap between the upcoming audition and the romantic invitation, but I knew I needed to ask him more questions.

"I think you have a tendency to fetishize trans women," I said, tentatively.

Suddenly, I was met with an intense and emotionally dysregulated reaction.

He was highly defensive and dismissive towards any observations I had to share with him.

“Where is the person who spoke so bravely and candidly about his own psyche in his work?” I thought to myself.

We left the date, and a week later I texted him to end things prematurely.

I said that I didn’t think the conflation of the upcoming audition and dating each other at the same time was wise, and he said that he understood.

But two weeks later, he spontaneously called me and said that he wanted to try dating again.

I felt conflicted. I had set clear boundaries, and at the time, it appeared he had understood them.

“What if I say, no?” I asked myself.

“Does that mean he would feel slighted, and I wouldn’t get the chance to audition?”

I decided to say yes, and quickly found myself pulled back into his emotional chaos again.

It astounded me how somebody who spoke so openly and poignantly within the context of his career about how a power dynamic with an older and more established writer quickly led to an abuse of power, and the devastating effects this had on him.

Could then, in turn, become the very same person who recreated a strikingly similar power dynamic with me years later, where I found myself, ten years his junior, now auditioning for his show.

"Your audition was exceptional," he said as he consoled me over the phone. "But it’s out of my hands. Netflix is looking for somebody who’s already a star."

"But what about us?" I asked him. "It’s not going to work. You’re too confrontational for me."

And that was it.

I want to clarify that I was not a victim of any type of ‘abuse’. But I do not think a label such as ‘abuse’ should be a prerequisite for people coming forward and sharing their experiences.

If anything, it was the absence of such label that further prevented me from ever feeling able to speak out publicly about my experience with him.

After being on the receiving end of his refusal to accept any responsibility for what had happened and subsequent attempts to gaslight me, I almost began to gaslight myself in the process.

I told myself that what I had gone through paled in comparison to what other people said they had been subjected to via online Cluster B personality discourse; many of which included stories of unhappy marriages, restraining orders, and even contemplations of suicide.

Yet, the more I began to engage with this type of content, the more vindicated I felt. Finally, I had the language to articulate all of the emotional chaos I had encountered with him.

My vocabulary soon expanded, and suddenly I found myself using phrases like 'idealization,' 'devaluation,' and 'discard'—all terms that describe the hallmark characteristic cycle of attempting to form a romantic relationship with somebody who exhibits Cluster B personality traits

It felt easier to pathologize him, at times. It even felt good.

However, I began to notice how this way of thinking slowly started to contradict my belief that all human beings, even ones who have hurt others, have the capacity to change, to be better.

I often found that the descriptions of people with Cluster B personality traits, often from the perspective of non-disordered individuals like myself, typically reject the idea of change, outright denying the complete spectrum of humanity to the individual who is labeled as such.

In his book "Healing the Shame That Binds You," John Bradshaw writes:

“Exposure to oneself lies at the heart of toxic shame. A shame-based person will guard against exposing his inner self to others, but more significantly, he will guard against exposing himself to himself.”

And then suddenly, it clicked.

People unconsciously recreate traumas that have happened to themselves in the past in an attempt to resolve those emotional wounds now.

And while, yes, I acknowledge that he hurt me, I also understand that there was no conscious intent to do so. And while, no, this understanding doesn’t in any way, shape, or form excuse or detract from the impact his behavior had on me, I realised that the longer I held onto the

pain of what he did to me, I became the one hurting myself, not him.

Ultimately, other people’s willingness to change or unlearn their behaviors is not our choice to make. But in bringing the focus back onto ourselves, we can hand back the people who have wronged us their shame, even if it was never truly theirs to hold in the first place.

I'm not sure how to end this, but I just want to say to any other young actors reading this, my message is simple:

If you are ever involved in a casting process where somebody is simultaneously conflating a work opportunity with a dating dynamic, set boundaries. If they disrespect your boundaries, or attempt to persuade you to alter them after you have set them, then please tell somebody.

Inform your agent. They can then relay the information to the casting director. This industry has a duty of care to protect you and safeguard your emotional well-being throughout the process.

It’s easy to think that if you do so, your opportunity of getting the role may be taken away, and who knows, maybe that’s true.

But believe me when I say, not getting the role might just end up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

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