Turning Hurtful Words into Healing

           I am very open about my mental health, but I wasn’t always this open.  I used to hide my mental illness in shame.  I didn’t think others would understand. It took hurtful words from a health care provider to make me realize that I shouldn’t be ashamed of my mental illness.  In fact, my experience with this health care provider made me realize that it was time for me to use my voice to help myself and others who struggle with mental illness. 

            The story of how this health care provider hurt me is in my memoir, “Traveling the Healing Journey: Finding the Light in Mental Illness”.  I am going to share it here, too, because it was an instrumental event in my journey.  In my book I refer to this health care provider as E.  I will do so here as well.  I could use her name, but in my heart, I have forgiven her.  Actually, as you will see, I may owe her a debt of gratitude.  

            In 2017 I had to change primary care providers.  The one I had been comfortable with left the clinic I was going to.  Before she left, she recommended that I see E for my health care needs.  She told me that I could trust her and that she was a good provider.  I was hesitant, but I made the change.  The first visit I had with her was okay, uneventful.  It was the next time I saw her that I had a terrible experience.

            I saw E for my yearly physical.  I always get a little anxious when I have medical appointments, but I was doing fairly well when I went into the exam room.  The appointment started okay.  There is a part of the annual physical exam that I have never been able to have completed because of my anxiety, but providers have always tried.  Usually, I would take something to relax me before starting and the provider would do their best to calmly talk me through it.  I was never able to get through that part of the exam, but no harm was ever done.  The provider just moved on to the next part.  When it came time for that part of the exam E read my records and said she wouldn’t do it.  She said I had to go somewhere else for it.  I tried to tell her I wanted her to do it and that I had already taken medicine to get me through it.  She looked straight at me and said, “No.  You are a liability.” I couldn’t understand what she had said.  Why was she calling me a liability?  I felt like there was something wrong with me.  She was blaming me for something that was caused by my anxiety.  I froze.  I didn’t know what to say.  I know I had tears in my eyes, but she just ignored me.  She moved on to the next part of the exam.

            She told me to lie down so she could examine my breasts.  In my head thoughts were swirling.  What was wrong with me? Why can’t I be like other women?  Then I realized she was about to touch me.  Knowing I often get jumpy when I am touched, I wanted to warn her so she wouldn’t think she was hurting me.  I said, “Sometimes I jump when I am touched, but it doesn’t hurt.”  E looked at me and said in a way that sounded very sarcastic to me, “I can’t examine you, if I can’t touch you.” I wanted to run out of the exam room.  I needed to get away, but I was trapped. Somehow, I managed to let her finish the exam.  I couldn’t get to my car fast enough.  Once safely away from her and in my car, I broke down in tears.  

            Was my anxiety my fault?  Depression and anxiety have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.  No health care provider had ever made an issue about the way E had.  I couldn’t get her words out of my head.  “You are a liability,” kept echoing in my mind. 

            As soon as I talked to my psychologist, Dr. Klein, I told him what happened.  I cried as I told him.  It was obvious how much those words had hurt me.  He tried to reassure me that I was not a liability, and that E was wrong for saying it.  I just couldn’t get those words out of my head.  It took two weeks for Dr. Klein to convince me to speak up.  I had received one of those feedback emails from E’s office.  I wrote that I had a really bad experience and that I was never going back.  I didn’t explain what had happened.  I just said I was never going back because of my last appointment.  

The next day I received a call from a woman in the office.  I don’t remember her name or title.  She asked me why I didn’t want to go back.  I told her what E had said and that it was very hurtful.  She apologized.  She said it sounded like an issue of poor word choice.  At that time, I wasn’t at a point where I could explain how E had hurt me and how it was issue of her mistreating me because of my mental illness, not just poor word choice. The woman was kind.  She told me that she would like me to continue going to this office and that I could see someone else moving forward.  I was hesitant.  She recommended a physician’s assistant, named Greta.  She promised me that Greta was different.  She said she was kind and understanding and assured me that I would like her.  I was overwhelmed with the whole situation and really didn’t want to go through the process of finding a new primary care provider.  So, I agreed.  The woman told me she would tell the doctor in charge about my experience.  

I never received an apology from E.  I never saw her again.  There was no acknowledgement of how she had hurt me because of my mental illness.  Soon my hurt turned to anger.  I spent a lot of time discussing my feelings surrounding this incident with Dr. Klein.  I didn’t understand how it was okay for a health care provider to not only dismiss my mental illness but insult me over it.  E made it seem like my anxiety was my fault.  I wondered how many other people she had done that to.  Was it common for her to be flippant with patients with mental illness or was I her only target?  I started thinking more about the effect her words had on me.  With Dr. Klein’s help I realized I hadn’t done anything wrong.  My anxiety wasn’t my fault.  I have an illness and a primary care provider should be understanding of mental illness. 

It is at this point that I realized I couldn’t sit back and allow myself to be treated that way.  I had to stand up for myself.  This experience led me into mental health advocacy.  I finally understood that I had a voice, and I could use it to stand up for myself and others with mental illness.  I began looking for mental health organizations.  My writing became focused on mental illness.  I stopped hiding my depression and anxiety.  I began speaking about mental illness. I learned to tell my story and looked for opportunities to share it.

Hurtful words led me into mental health advocacy.  For that I am grateful.  The work I have been able to do since that day allows me to forgive E.  I will never forget, but I have forgiven.  Her words echo in my head like a rallying cry urging me to use my voice to fight the stigma surrounding mental illness.

The primary care providers I have had since that terrible experience, Greta and Cristina, have shown me that not only can a primary care provider understand the needs of a patient with mental illness, but they also need to be able to understand.  I am grateful that I found providers who care and understand.  

I hope through my advocacy work more health care providers learn about mental illness and how to treat patients.  Mental illness is an illness.  It is no more the patient’s fault than a cancer diagnosis.  My goal is to use my experience to educate others.  I want my experience to serve a purpose.  If you are health care provider, I urge you to learn more about mental illness and how to understand your patients.  If you have a mental illness, I urge you to remember that you have an illness and you do not need to be ashamed of it.  

Sometimes I think I would like the opportunity to speak to E.  I know it has been several years and she likely doesn’t remember her hurtful words.  I would just like to explain how she hurt me and let her know that those words changed me.  Her hurtful words led me into mental health advocacy.  I now have a voice that I will continue to use to help myself and others.  Fortunately, her hurtful words led to good.  So, if you’re out there, E, thank you for giving me a reason to find my voice.