A letter to the doctor who almost killed me: There I sat, in a small room, and in walked you, the doctor. I’d shown up to the ER because I was having a mental health crisis.
When I think of our interaction, I have a visceral memory of you shouting my name at me from two feet away. You were unimpressed that I didn’t answer a question immediately, painfully unaware that I was frozen in a trauma response.
You had no idea that I felt as though the room was getting smaller, and that I was trying to decide if I would be able to get past the door unharmed.
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