“Two times a week, I work right across from the doctor’s office, where I was sexually assaulted.”
I said this phrase a few months ago to a friend over dinner. She nodded and asked, “How do you feel when you pass the office every week?”
“I’m able to stay in the present moment, but I still do feel sadness and anger. Sometimes I want to walk into the office, and just yell at her.
Other times, I take several deep breaths & just pray, ‘I hope she doesn’t hurt anyone else today.'”
I still pray this prayer twice per week, as I drive across 116th Street in downtown Fishers. I felt this prayer bubbling up again in my body as I watched the impact statements from the brave women sexually assaulted by Larry Nassar.
I let myself watch the impact statements for a few hours, letting myself cry, letting myself see the bravery, see the righteous anger, see justice coupled with compassion from Judge Aquilina.
As I watched these women and girls share their unique stories, we also all had the same common themes. I saw myself; and I knew that if the circumstances allowed, I would be the one standing up, telling my story.
Yet, I also know this. I may never get that chance. However, I can choose to heal anyway. And I have chosen to heal anyway. Here is a letter written to my “doctor”/abuser.
I wonder if you’re scared right about now. I wonder if you were scared when the Indy Star wrote the article about Larry Nassar, who used the same abusive techniques that you use in your practice. I wonder if you were scared of being found out. You knew that USAG, housed in Indianapolis, was covering up the abuse, and intuitively, I know that this allowed you to flourish.
I wonder if you watched the impact statements and had flashbacks of all the people you’ve abused under the guise of medical treatment. I wonder if one day you will ever feel any remorse. I wonder what you would have said to me, if I would have allowed you in the room, when I met with the head doctor who just defended your sorry ass. I wonder if you treated your daughter the same way you treated me.
I will never have answers to these questions.
There are some things I know about you though without you ever having to utter another word to me again. I know that you’re a human being whose entire body is filled with intense shame, whether that is something you will ever acknowledge or not. You would not abuse if you engaged the journey of self-healing.
I know that you have not accepted your sexuality. For the things you said in that room were shaming of anyone who isn’t straight. You would not openly shame diverse sexualities if you were secure in your own.
I know that you’re terrified to heal yourself. To actually look at what you’ve done and who you’ve made of yourself and cry. I know that you feel terribly hurt & so you hurt others. And what’s worse, is that you claim to be a healer, but all you do is tremendous damage, because you can’t even look at yourself.
I know that your smile is hollow. There’s nothing but utter chaos behind it.
I know that there is nothing more sad in the world than to see a 60-something year old woman who doesn’t know who she is. You’ve never healed & excavated your essence to see what healing purpose you were brought on this earth for. You settled for the same old traumatic family dynamics, and became a hollowed-out, vicious, and dominating version of your true self.
You should know that I’m strong and healing-more and more every day in fact. I am a brave and dynamic woman who is realizing the extent of her own innate power. This is something you will never be able to take away from me.
You should know that I will never be like you. I work with children, and I will never, ever abuse them.
The rest of my story you don’t deserve to hear or know.
Although what you did (and continue to do) is evil, you did teach me one thing. Behind your gray eyes and cynical smile, I saw a decaying human being, the result of a woman who was not courageous enough to accept herself. And so I learned that the acceptance and love of oneself, must be paramount. It must truly be a narrow road that few find.
Well D-I’ve found it, and continue to find it. While it’s narrow, it is freeing. And because I have the audacity to take this narrow road, I also have the audacity to reach for forgiveness. For I need to move on with my life and leave you behind. But before I say goodbye forever, I do have a blessing for you.
D-before your deathbed, may you find your body and your soul.
May you know that to be curious like a child again-you will have much grief to wade through. In order to feel that innocent again, you must be able to forgive yourself.
May you find the courage to speak the truth, even if it costs you everything.
May you actually be receptive to touch, not seeking to always manipulate and control.
May you know that Love is still looking for you-but you have to be looking for him/her/them.