Lisa Whelchel's Dark Side

My Survivor Story: Behind the Scenes and Behind the Mask — Part 16

Contrary to what viewers saw, the jury had already decided who was going to win. It was evident that, from the moment he was voted off, Penner had spent his time lobbying the jury to vote against Skupin and me. He couldn’t let Skupin win because they were both returning players, which would have stung Penner’s pride too much. He couldn’t let me win because he’d wrongly assumed he had negotiated his way into my heart, and thus, me into his back pocket. That left Denise. He made sure she knew that her victory was undeserved, but by default, she would win.

My one vote. Thank you, RC

Everyone cast their vote that night, but in true reality TV fashion, Jeff withheld reading the winner’s name until the final episode, which aired live seven months after our last night on the island.

As soon as he walked off the tribal council set with the voting urn, I got up from my bamboo stool and went back to the medical tent, where I was examined by both the medical doctor and the psychiatrist. Because the toll on the psyche can be as hard as it is on the body, CBS provides a psychiatrist to all players for a full year after their experience. As soon as I saw her, I burst out crying, and a steady stream of tears unwittingly fell off and on for the next 36 hours. I didn’t have any particular emotion, memory, or reason attached to my tears. They just came, and kept coming.

From the medic tent, we were transported to Ponderosa, where we got to eat a meal, take a shower, wash our hair, brush our teeth, and be reunited with the former castaways and jury members. I felt like I was walking around in a fog. I could barely eat a bite of food or connect with anyone without starting to cry again. It was a celebratory atmosphere, but all I wanted to do was go back to my room and fall asleep in a real bed. I hoped I would wake up feeling more like myself in the morning.

That didn’t happen. I was still in a blubbering haze, and I remained in this state until we arrived in the U.S. 24 hours later. Steve and my three children picked me up at the airport with a Dr. Pepper in a Route 44 cup of Sonic drive-thru ice. We headed straight to my favorite Tex-Mex restaurant, Mi Cocina. They sensed that I was in a fairly fragile state of mind, so although they were very excited and wanted to ask me a million questions, they adjusted their energy immediately and held space for me in their gentle care. I later found out that they’d all been worried about me. I wasn’t the same mom who had been dropped off at this same airport 50 days earlier. I had also brought home a number of parasites and injuries. And, to add insult to injury, even though I’d barely eaten more than a cup of rice and beans per day for the last 39 days, I’d only lost 7 pounds, while most of my fellow players had lost at least 20.

Admittedly, it took a few months to feel like myself again (and regain the seven pounds plus a few more for good measure). Just when life was resuming back to normal, the first episode aired and I had to relive the drama and trauma all over again, this time, in front of millions of people, the media, and Internet trolls. The last time I had been on TV was before the advent of social media. I was not prepared for the onslaught of opinions and judgments. It seemed like everyone had something to say about my looks, my body, how I played the game, my tumultuous emotional state, my faith, you name it, they had a comment about it that was typically not very complimentary.

This was also the first time I had been in the public eye since leaving show business and getting married. The media released the hounds as they searched for the scoop on my personal life. And they found it. Steve and I had finalized our divorce before I left for the Philippines, but only our closest friends and family knew. We hadn’t felt the desire or need to release a press statement. Because I had kept a low-key, private profile for years since leaving show business, the press didn’t have a story to write, other than the fact that I had “secretly” gotten a divorce before leaving to film Survivor.

That didn’t stop the National Enquirer from fabricating the “facts.” The headlines read: “Lisa Whelchel Divorce Secrets, Facts of Life Star’s Shocking Dark Side” and “Shocked friends blasted wholesome star after Survivor debut.” The article went on to “report” that I had mistreated Steve for years. That my father had forced me to marry him. That I was hoping being on Survivor would kickstart my career. And, “’Lisa puts on a smiling face in public, but in reality she has a dark side,’ a source told The Enquirer.”

The irony was not lost on me that Survivor had actually done me the favor of putting me in touch with my “dark side” and helping me to own it as an important aspect of my wholeness.

Once the article came out, it seemed to give legitimacy to the other baseless claims; suddenly, the story of my divorce and the “reasons” for it were everywhere. People magazine seemed to be one of the few publications with any ethics. They approached me and told me there was a tabloid planning to run an expose stating that Steve was gay, but there hadn’t been any substantial corroboration, so they weren’t going to include it in the cover story they were planning about me. To their credit, when I refused to confirm these accusations, they simply referred to the claims as rumors. They also killed the cover story they’d planned.

It was a painful time for our whole family. The public didn’t deserve the truth about me and Steve, and the truth was much more complicated than any sensationalistic story in a tabloid newspaper could possibly reveal. Nobody would have believed the truth: that Steve had remained faithful to me, our marriage, and his faith, and the same was true for me. Contrary to what the tabloids were reporting, I had been an equally loving and kind wife to him. But I couldn’t say anything, and I wouldn’t defend anything. Sadly, my silence only seemed to confirm the “spin” that had been put on our divorce: that I had left Steve to pursue a career in Hollywood after suffering a mid-life crisis.

The truth was actually much sadder than this. We loved each other very much, but at some point, my heart was a deafening roar in my head. It was telling me what I’d always known but had denied for years: I wanted and needed more. It wasn’t even primarily my desire for more physical intimacy. True, he hadn’t kissed me in 17 years, but I was familiar with a slew of long-term marriages that had been buoyed by respect and duty in the absence of passion and affection. For me, it all boiled down to the painful reality that my heart was waking up and ached for intimate connection on a deeper level. Steve and I had both shut down huge chunks of who we were, just to ensure that we wouldn’t stray from our vows to God and each other. I no longer trusted that this was what God wanted, and I knew for sure that I couldn’t live like this anymore. Something had to change.

Next Sunday: A live finale, a $100,000 check, and a one-way ticket to a life that was already crumbling.

Has there been a time when you couldn't go back to the life you'd been living, even though you weren't sure where you were headed next? I'd love to hear in the comments. And whatever else this stirred up, I want to hear that too.