I finally talked to my boyfriend last night about the whole doctor mess
My boyfriend is a paramedic, and he said that maybe it was something the doctor needed to know; he said that he has to ask people some fairly weird questions in the course of his job (like asking a woman if there's any chance she might be pregnant, because there are a lot of things that can't/shouldn't be used on pregnant women or asking people if they've used any drugs, because a lot of people don't want to say that they have, but the EMS personnel need to know due to drug interactions).
I can sort of see that; the doctor might need to know. However, he didn't have to phrase it like that.
It made me feel like he thought I'd brought it on myself, like there was something I could have done to stop it.
I was a quarter his age (11 to his 46) and half his weight; I was also already intimidated. I learned very early in life not to trigger his temper. I'm still very placatory; I hate having people angry at me. I try to make peace, even if it's not in my favor, and if I can't make peace, I withdraw entirely.
And he held me down, pinning my wrists beside my head and my lower body under his body.
There wasn't anything I could have done. He was my only relative within several hundred miles; my grandmother was in New Mexico, my aunt was in California, and the rest of my family was on the East Coast. I had no way to make it stop. (It happened in Arizona.)
I'm still going to see my counselor before I make another appointment with the doctor. I was supposed to see her on Monday, but I didn't have the money to pay for the appointment so I canceled it; I'm supposed to see her next Wednesday (17 May) and I suppose I'll make the decision then.
Part of me thinks I should give the doctor one more chance, in case it was just careless phrasing on his part, and part of me says that the last thing I need right now, what with the suicidal inclinations, is a psychiatrist who wants to blame me for things I couldn't stop.