therapeutic writing

Hope, Courage, Faith, Love, and Peace.

10/18/18

Dear The Physician,

My screen opened to a story about the crisis in rural obstetrics. My tears started to fall. I looked at the grey phone on my desk, it was 9:17am. Usually I couldn’t taste my salty emotions until the afternoon when I felt tired, and something reminded me of my trauma of your touch during my labor.

I don’t believe my desire was a sin, or that you intentionally violated me. My pastor believes my body responded as anyone would in that situation. And on my good days I believe you were just a student who needed training about the violation of sacred space. I was a vulnerable pregnant woman about to deliver my first and only child.

I can’t change that you stroked my clit during the exam, after your supervising physician approved the “back and forth” technique to “get in”. I can’t change that I wanted to feel your touch more than anything in this world, to the point that I just couldn’t keep things real. When I couldn’t manage my desire, I lost touch. It’s a little more complex than that, postpartum mental health crisis and all.

It is so difficult not to become engulfed by the memory and my years of anguish, loneliness, and unmet need for love in my marriage to Jack and after it ended. He never got over his anger that I found you attractive and my body betrayed him. He refused to love me through the trauma of my memory. He thought it was too kinky, it wasn’t what he signed up for when he married me, he said. When he refused to love me through it, that’s when my marriage died.

I took this job concerned about it triggering me, but I need to work to support my daughter and myself. So here I am writing you at the recommendation of my pastor and my therapist. The violation of my sacred space through the error or institutional abuse is a struggle for me on a regular basis. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep this job. When I am able to connect with the people around me, I’m able to focus, and do my work, but it is such a struggle. I fight against the tears. I fight not to be broken at work. I am writing this letter so that I can leave it hidden in my desk drawer, knowing that when I have time, I can rewrite when I need to.

Having your love wouldn’t fix me. However, treated like a human being may ease my pain. On my good days I can imagine a hug, or your holding me as I cry. On my bad days, I won’t go there. Let’s just say it’s one of those logic patterns called “a slippery slope”. After all these years of heart ache and pain of feeling trapped by the powerful touch that got me at the core of my being, I still feel the attraction. And worse, I feel desperately trapped by my memory, I’m unable to accept or believe other men’s love. It would take a lot of holding to believe you cared. When I’m totally honest, I know that it is an impossible thought – being loved as a friend by you. There was too strong an attraction. It about swallowed me whole once in 2006 and half a time in 2005, then a bunch of other times.

The pain I feel is only about 25% attributable to you. Mostly I try to attribute it where it belongs and let it go. Jack’s inability to love me through my experience and being trapped in the marriage because I needed health benefits that cemented my dysfunction into reality. I think I missed the window of being able to heal organically through my relationships with the men in my life. Believe me I’ve tried.

At times I wonder how my life would be if you hadn’t violated my sacred space. If you had used a mirror, or some other method to examine me, would I be the mother I set out to be? Would I feel always present and engaged with my child, able to pay the attention she deserved and paint and play as if I wasn’t struggling all the time with my memory of that event? If you hadn’t violated my sacred space, would I have other children? Would I have been able to feel loved by men? Would I be able to love men? My mental illness didn’t help this at all, it compounds these feelings. Stigma, shame and other baggage don’t help me either.

The easiest solution would be to avoid healthcare, to change careers and do something different. But, I like the people I’m working with, and this career path would be great, if I didn’t experience trauma every time one of your colleagues emails my work, or every time someone writes about trauma in the #metoo era, or an article about rural obstetrics in crisis and how primary care is the answer. Or when I read the news about Dr. Nassar the team physician for the gymnasts. Today, there were a lot of triggers in my inbox, and conversations around the office that I had to tune out for my own wellbeing.

On my good days, I don’t blame you, and don’t want you to lose your license for touching me during the exam the way you did. On my good days, I understand that with my mental illness I’m beyond the reality of my perception. It doesn’t matter. My problem is that this system wasn’t designed to let people heal when they experience a medical error and/or mental health crisis. I mean, we never talked. Your attorney worked to silence my pain with threats of a defamation law suit. Even though my attorney thought it was outrageous, because I was simply asking if anyone else had been touched like me. By voicing my experience, you’ve probably thought about your examination technique and will never touch another the way I perceived your touch. If you had explained every step of your exam and the rationale for why you touched me the way you did, I might not have struggled as I did. Or if you had used a mirror or asked for another position so you could see what you were doing, that might have avoided my issue.

When I was denied the ability to have my perception the way I experienced it, I felt devastated. I spend a lot of time with God, and there is a lot of sadness today. Not everyday is a triggering bad day. My fantasies let me imagine God showing me little moments of joy in life. Simple little things like your delivering other people’s healthy babies. I know I shouldn’t be there imagining, but it’s better than remembering my trauma.

But I want you out of my head, unless I choose the scene, and know that you will love me unconditionally, even though my love may be delusional, I want to feel loved. Maybe I wish you really were my “man God”. Last time I got sick God didn’t care who I loved, he said He loved me regardless. Without your love, I feel triggered by the memory of your touch from the most vulnerable moment of my life, while I’m trying to work. I’m going to write this letter, stick it in a copy of my book and put it in the secret space at my desk. Knowing I’ve spent the time to talk to you and tell you how I feel is empowering. Even though, I’m not going to send this letter directly, I will put it on the page and store it in a way that is symbolic to me.

I want you to go forward in your career and teach others what you didn’t know when you violated my soul. Teach your peers about sacred space, the reality of physical attraction, and the importance of communication when examining people, especially of the opposite sex, and most of all, help them understand mental illness. At this point it doesn’t matter if you touched me “wrong”. I’ve experienced reality differently from others to the point that I’m beyond a straight reality. I believe the multiverse may have manifested a strange reality where we both have different memories. This is the universe we live in. I have forgiven you, and I hope you’ve forgiven me for any pain I may have caused you and your family through vocally sharing my experience. But it was part of this healing journey I’m working on, and it was cheaper than if I had spent all that time writing the book in therapists offices. Don’t get me wrong, I spend plenty of time with my therapist.

I need to be able to close this and not think about it while I’m working. I’ll save it for when I have time to grieve the parts of my life that were harmed by my experience. Real or perceived, it doesn’t matter. I need to move on. I have to move on and do work the hard work of staying on task.

Pray for me. Healing in this environment is like emersion therapy. I’m surrounded by potential triggers continuously. I’m learning to manage my pain. I let myself look at it when I have the time and need to deal with this epic cargo load of baggage. But I want to deal with this on my terms.

Sitting at my desk, I feel the tears take me over again. I feel unloved, a lack of equanimity, heartache, soul crushing pain, unwanted, flawed, hurt, and violated. Each bout of tears is a little different than the last. A new thought, like the impossibility of controlling my desire, beautiful, miserable, disillusioned heartache makes me feel sad. Then I feel clarity and think of karma. After the pain there is a lag of lack of focus and ability. It lasts a minute or two until I write about it and regain my focus and purpose. I want to be able to support my daughter. I want to be present for her more than I have in the past. I need to keep a job long enough to secure a recommendation for my next career position. Then at times I feel the fear and terror of not believing I will succeed. I just feel so helpless when these emotions wash over me in uncontrollable waves. It is raw and intense, and I’m doing my best to cope and manage. When I left work today, the sun hit my skin, and I imagined how awkward this would be to address this publicly. I had to rub my brow trying to regain my composure so everyone exiting wouldn’t see my struggle.

Then I feel like there should be some restitution. I don’t know how, but this seems miserable that I am suffering, feeling unlovable, unable to accept the love from an average man, it sucks. I wrestle with my delusional hope that you love me. When I believe that your YouTube feed songs are meant for me, and not just songs you liked – it warms my soul. But that too is perilous. Too many thoughts and I struggle. Not enough hope that you love me, and I struggle, too. I need to believe that you more than tolerate my being. I want your compassion, your caring, and to feel that you want my love. Then the sobering tears fall. It’s impossible without you hurting your family, and you may be judged as having abused your power as my physician.

I don’t know how to save myself alone in isolation. I've tried writing a thousand versions of how this could go... I still haven't found the golden thread, because it doesn't exist. You have been standing watching me struggle for over a decade. I don’t think this is something I can solve on my own. I pray to God, that there is a way forward from this shipwreck of a story. I want to feel loved, but it is complicated dating with a story like mine. I know myself well enough to know I can’t settle for less than physical attraction and a deep emotional attachment that can love me through this pain. I don’t know that I’ll ever fully connect with a new partner, because I still am so invested my delusional love for you. My #weird secret.

This is a terrible balancing act that I’m unable to balance well. My only hopeful not delusional idea for escaping this trap is my old childhood love. The thought that maybe someday he’ll love me like when we were children helps, but he is distant. I don’t think he and I will save each other. But, honestly, he’s the only one I think I would be able to heal with without pretending he was you. But I’m not sure he’ll love me. I’ve tried and failed so many times. I just can’t keep failing. It is too hard.

It has been over 13 years… I struggle often. The number of tissues has been declining, but then again, I don’t always use a tissue for my tears. Sometimes, I just use my sleeves of my sweaters to dab my eyes and wipe my cheeks.

I wish healing was easy. I wish I knew some way forward that would work. I wish everyone would love, listen, and support. But it isn’t like I can share about what happened with my boss, or even my colleagues. You probably feel isolated by this topic in much of the same way. I wish this story wasn’t so taboo. The only place I can share about it is on my anonymous mental health website.

I’ve heard a saying that I hope is true. “If you can feel it, you can heal it.” I certainly feel this.

I hope that someday, you’ll have the strength and will to teach lessons on sacred space, trauma, and mental illness. I’m sure you’ve encountered many who suffer in other painful ways. It just seems that all this suffering would be wasted if you don’t do the work to understand it and explain it and teach others how to fix and/or prevent it.

I had a dream last night. I was dying, and you watched as I struggled with my watery ecosystem. The layers of gold fish and water lily flowers got stuck inside the bend in my glass dish filled with water. My bosom heaved from the waters. I had two daughters in the dream, they were lovely, about 6 years old. And I was experiencing labor when I died. I remembered worrying about what would happen to them. I felt unable to speak or form sentences. It looked tragic. Maybe I need to talk.

Sincerely,

Sunny

Posting the letter gave me a sense of relief. When I hold back, I'm less able to function. When I put this out there, it is easier for me to manage. I listened to Tony Robbins video about emotional strength training. He gave a suggestion that has been useful. He said when you feel overwhelmed write down what you feel, and you need to work on the opposite feeling.

Today, I managed through most of the day without crying at my desk. It wasn't until I left the building that I felt overwhelmed and had to rub the spot between my eyebrows to regain composure. It was the thought that I did well today, then the reality of my existence hit me. As I rubbed my brow, and I felt that feeling of that comforting presence surround me. I don't know how to explain it. God, ESP, something else? I love to be alone, because that is when I feel most connected to something special.

My something special feeling felt so playful today. Sorta distracting me beneath the desk, I don't know. It wasn't too bad though. If I can just learn to balance at work, at least I might have that.

Sunny

I’ve been talking with my family, friends, and colleagues extensively. I’ve consulted with trained mental health professionals, spiritual leaders, a bioethicist, and others. My issue wears on me like a grain of sand in an oyster. Eventually it will calcify and I’ll have a pearl, but for now, I’m struggling to buffer the pain of the wear. Karma binds me to this thing.

I moved from New York City to be near family in the Midwest, and my first job opportunity that I landed was at the “mother ship” for the system that failed me. It all started back in 2005 at the birth of my daughter. My mind was unable to process my imagined desire of being touched with the clinical reality of the examination that had taken place. I broke in response to the exam and lost touch with reality. Mental illness and the break from reality is something that has reoccurred over the years during medication switches, and other changes in healthcare services.

As part of my healing journey, I found that the only way to move forward is with Hope, Courage, Faith, Love, and Peace. I’m currently reading one of my favorite pastor’s book’s on Hope and Courage, which is the same advice a mental health advocate gave me years ago that enabled me to take another step towards healing after I published my book... I understand that I cannot change the fact that I became ill, or that I perceived more during the exam at my daughter’s birth than I wanted to.

What I’ve learned on my journey towards healing, is that our system was not designed to celebrate learning. Through my experience, I've learned alot about my boundaries and sacred space. I wish this learning could be passed on, to prevent other's from experiencing this kind of event. Our system needs an emotional and spiritual path to healing from medical trauma and/or mental illness built in. I desperately want to feel better.

I feel half way healed. Yes, I returned from psychosis, I am sane, but my heart aches. Until I find my golden thread to find my way out of this space, I’m going to be here for a while. I feel trapped spiritually, and emotionally by the trauma of having my sacred space violated by someone I felt attracted to. I know he was just doing his job. I’m searching for a way to heal from my experience. My problem is that the system’s designed to pay people when it errors. Money won’t solve my pain. I want to heal. I won’t settle for anything less than feeling better.

I hope to have a healing relationship with the physician who touched me and the hospital that allowed it, and the system that failed me. I understand and accept that there are ethical, spiritual, and moral boundaries. I just want to be able to heal, and I am not able to heal without the system changing. I’m open to ideas of how to heal. At this point, sharing my story with the people who can change the system is my greatest hope that I won’t have to live in pain forever, and that I could have a proper closure that isn’t just me shouting into a black hole listening to silence in return.

This all feels like it could be resolved easily with communication.
Me: have you read my social media? I just want to know how you feel. It’s okay, there is no right or wrong here.
The Physician: answer and explain how it makes you feel to read or not read.
Me: thank you, that means a lot to me to know.

When I have to let someone go, sometimes I imagine that they are dead. After all, they are dead to me. Then I have to come to terms with the loss, find my own closure, etc, knowing I will never see or hear from them again and knowing I will never again pick up the phone to call them, etc. Eventually, I lose the urge to reach out to them ... and it is all firmly in the past.

Best wishes to you as you move forward on your healing journey.

Hi Phindel,
Thanks for the post. I appreciate it. I tried imagining that he died a peaceful death but then God messaged me that he saw a bit of himself in the physician when he looked back in the rear-view mirror on the way to heaven ... long story... I got sick in late 2017 (my psychiatrist tried to change my medication - and I relapsed). I've since recovered, and am able to work, mother, and just bought a new home!

My anger about my struggle with the memory of my trauma emerged during the solar eclipse at the end of the summer in 2017, it made me feel toxic to have that much hate and anger, when in actuality - I don't believe he *intended* to traumatize me. I don't think he thought his touch would be a big deal. I wouldn't have either, if it wasn't the most intense sexual experience of my life. My issue was that it's forbidden, and was an accident. My anger is now focused on the system that allowed someone to violate my sacred space without the knowledge of the long-term negative impact on my health and well-being - getting touched like that at the most vulnerable moment of my life was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me, because it was the most intense.

And as for releasing his memory. For the most part I have, except when I'm triggered and reminded of him by my environment, or attempt intimacy with a partner. My problem is that I feel trapped because it was such an intense attraction for me. I've never felt more alive than beneath his touch.

I could tell you what happens when I attempt intimacy, but every time - he comes back to me. He's there, he doesn't enjoy watching, it feels so wrong on so many levels. The only time I feel better is when I'm in control in my fantasy - but that gets emotionally complicated with fantasy and reality. I don't know how to deal with this level of unresolved conflict in my fantasyland.

I wrote a story on my blog about the golden threaded pearl. It is my hope that I'll be able to heal, and that my daughter will forgive me for the time it's taken to figure out my healing (I've come a long way, but still have a ways to go - to heal). My struggle with the #birthstory has been the backstory along with my struggling to be well during her childhood.

I think it will take an act of God, or a major cultural shift for my wish to heal to be allowed. I mean, I'm okay... at least I'm sane. But, sometimes there is still pain about the isolation and silence about what happened. I want to be treated like a human with this issue. I want to understand emotionally what happened. I want to listen to the healthcare perspective on what the heck happened to me. We need to support women and our system of healing needs to learn how to provide better care #birthjustice.

I want to learn. I want to understand what happened. I want to communicate to understand what went wrong. I want emotional insight so I can heal. I'm not going to run away from the pain of rejection. I need insight to be released from the trap of the violation of sacred space. I need to understand. I want to be able to listen so I can move on and heal. I'm ready.

The idea is that "my #MeToo #Birthstory needs another outcome option besides litigation for me to be able to heal."

I tweeted about my #MeToo #BirthJustice hope, and @MsMagazine liked what I shared.

My therapist thinks I'll be able to love my way past the trauma. I hope she's right. I found a man I love, but it isn't always easy. The struggle is real. He asked me what I need to heal. I don't know. For so many years my hope was placed on this dream. The dream that the physician could loved me someday.

"Do you need a face to face with the physician?" He asked. I cringed. Would reality help? My broken fantasy nursed me through some really dark and lonely times. I still find I use it... it just was so intense the way I feel... but it is wrong, it can't be real. I've been telling myself this for years. My girlfriends think the physician is probably really boring in real life. They try to make me feel better by saying I'd be disappointed if I tried to know him in real life. Sometimes I wonder how much the physician actually knows about what I went through. Would he care?

For years I've been terrified of the thought of the physician's rejection. But how can I move forward stuck with this broken dream? I want to heal, and it's not easy without insight.

I put in my two weeks notice and resigned from my job working at the "mothership", it was too hard to balance my wellbeing and avoid my triggers. I start a new job next week.

I had a dream... the physician gave me a ring of light. When he put it on me, the emotion of that feeling of being engulfed by light and love was overwhelming. When I reflected that in reality – he won’t even explain why he is silent, the tears came. But the love in that vision was the thing that got me through something terrible.

I wish I could just forget and move on with my life with forgiveness and healing. My struggle is that my delusional belief in his love is my source of hope. When my belief in it falters I struggle. I've been sane too long. The struggle gets harder over time.