To my former patients,
I may have seen you at one time in the last several years. I've moved around a few times and I've worked in a few different places. I've heard you tell me that you're tired of telling your story again because I'm the 6th psychiatric provider you've seen in 2 years. That the other one didn't listen. The one before that kept cancelling on you. The one before that quit after a few months.
I've listened. Sometimes I try to explain that it's because it's just really hard, and it's sad, but turnover is really high in these kinds of places. It shouldn't be this way. I know.
I've told you that I had no intention of leaving. I meant it.
And you trusted me. We built a therapeutic relationship. I was there to celebrate when you made the honor roll. I was there to listen to figure out a plan when things felt bad. I was there to learn about you, and to see all the amazing artwork you've made. I was there to protect and guide you when you told me that there was abuse behind closed doors at home.
The relationship I had as a provider to every family under my care was sacred to me. I knew your cases and stories by heart. I would make a point to remember your pet's name. Small things. Big things too. I do not need to be reminded each appointment of the traumas you told me about during the first appointment... because I sat with those stories to let myself feel and try to imagine how it would affect you. Then I admired your strength for getting this far. Those stories don't just fade away. I cannot just forget.
I have been witness to the most incredible young human beings who have survived everything imaginable. You are so brave that you stepped into my office and asked for help.
I've been given the gift of you opening up to me and being vulnerable during the worst points of your life. You bared your soul to a stranger. That, too, is so incredibly brave.
I've been given the gift to understand at the deepest level of my heart. Because I've been there too. And that is something I never needed to say out loud. I think it very genuinely comes across in every interaction I've had with you. I've been told "it feels like you really care about us." That is because I do.
I've been given the gift to see you gradually improve.
I want you to know that I didn't want to leave. It wasn't my intention. I wanted to stay. I always wanted to stay. I had always dreamed about helping people. I wanted to be able to be the provider that would watch you grow up, cheer you on and eventually see you move on to fulfill your dreams. To celebrate when you didn't need medication anymore.
I'm so sorry that I won't be there, and that you'll have to tell your story all over again to someone else. It wouldn't surprise me if your new provider leaves too in a year or two.
It should not be like this.
I will say it over and over again. The healthcare system is broken.
The people making decisions are not the same people who sit with you and hear your stories. They are not the same people who hurt with you when things are bad. They are not people who understand what it is hold life in their hands and make life or death decisions.
Every time you come in for a visit, the people making decisions see money.
I'm not sure why I had imagined practicing as a provider would be any different, and that it wouldn't be an assembly line of children being given pills. It is well known that clinics burn providers out by making them see so many people.. they know it is not sustainable. They do not care. To the healthcare industry, I am disposable and I am replaceable.
How can you get better when everyone leaves you? You really like your therapist you've had for 2 years, but now they just quit. You have to start again with a new therapist. Build trust. They quit. Again. Start again. Build trust. Open up. Start to make progress. They quit. You crash.
Administration does not care about consistency for those who need stability and structure.
I wanted to be your provider. And I'm so sorry I have to do this instead.
Everyone has been asking why.
This is why.
I asked to make as much as my male counterparts. I made this clear. I was refused the same pay that my male colleagues make, and was consistently offered less. Everyone told me to "just take it" until I could get another job. Human resources told me "money isn't everything" when I tried to negotiate, which I know would never be said to a man.
My husband sat next to me during my negotiations. He watched me struggle to be taken seriously. He watched them balk at me for trying to bargain to make what my colleagues make. He watched me try to stay. We agreed that if I had been a man, no one would have spoken to me as they did.
We decided that it would be not only devaluing myself, but it would be continuing to support the gender pay disparity to accept anything less than I deserve. Anything less than what a man makes.
Maybe the idea of a thirty year old woman who has completed eleven years of college and is able to assertively advocate for herself was soooo threatening that it was decided that I was not worth keeping. Who knew? Vocal women are frowned upon.
While this obviously has been a struggle for me, I know it is more of a struggle for you.
Invisible to them, you will have to open your heart and trust another person to start all over again with.
For that, I am so sorry.
Through sharing your story and showing me your vulnerability, you have taught and given me more than I ever could have asked for. To lift myself up and walk away when I was not taken seriously, not heard and devalued.
My heart hopes that you see YOUR value, and you know when to walk away in situations where people are not allowing you to succeed.
You are the next generation. And you will someday be in these positions. You will be me. You will be the people making the decisions. You are our hope. Do better than what is being done now.
Remember that you are worth no less than anyone else.
And remember that the impact of lifting others up instead of pushing them down is absolutely endless.
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