shame walked in

At work I generally step out of my room and call on the next patient I intend to see.

But she was different. Once we had gotten to know each other I didn’t have to look up, I knew she had stepped into my room. With excitement in my eyes but dread in my neck I encourage her in.

It’s funny (like ‘oh your grandpa died on the same day as mine’ is funny). My very first encounter with this woman does not correlate with the way I see her now. When I first met her she told me she wanted a vaginal exam because she’d had some bleeding. It took a long time to reach the conclusion that she had been raped. Rape was not new for her. She had been raped repeatedly throughout her marriage. So potentially she wasn’t even worried about the bleeding she just wanted to make sure she wasn’t pregnant.

It wasn’t her walking into my room though.

It was shame.

Shame masquerading as a protector.

Protecting her from further harm at the hands of another abuser. Shame tells her ‘you aren’t worth anyone’s time, you are powerless to the whims of others, you deserve to be alone, nothing will change for you, you are used goods and should’ve died a long time ago.’

So when I ask her, “what do you think you (your body, your little girl, your heart, YOU) need right now?”

I get deep wailing tears. A chaotic mess of “even my kids hate me, what did I do to deserve this, I should just prostitute myself - my family already thinks I do”.

And she shakes and dries her tears and shrugs her shoulders and tells me she’s cried enough.

She tells me all the therapy she gets just makes her relive the trauma.

I’d love to say that I helped this lady.

I’d love to say that I no longer dread seeing her.

What I can say…is that I see her as strong, as beautiful, as courageous, as a fighter, a truth-teller, a young whimsical girl.

And I will keep holding this space for her til she is ready to see herself too.