Chapter 1: the assault on trust
Writing frees the mind and provides a positive experience for a traumatic incident. In February (2022) I worked for the National Health Service in the UK and loved the job, based in an acute hospital environment. The two years previous had been difficult with the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic, but like my colleagues, I challenged myself and pushed through the constant danger on the frontline of the viral warzone.
As I mentioned, I enjoyed my job. It was rewarding, although I dealt with death daily through my position within the mortuary. I had a dual role, working as a porter and assisting in the mortuary, each day unique. I could move a newborn baby from labour to the maternity ward, with my next job to move a deceased patient from a hospital ward to the mortuary. To many, it could be daunting and emotional. It was emotional because you were never aware of what your next job could be. But, I (my colleagues included) remained professional and always debriefed following such a task. I digress from setting the tone of my position with the NHS to why I write this anonymous blog post.
In February (2022) I worked in A&E as a porter (we would rotate departments), and the shift had been like any other. A patient from Resus to Ward 2, blood platelets from A&E reception to the pathology department and so on. Approximately halfway through my shift, I was reorganising the trolleys and chairs in the storage area (a frequent task for efficiency). Suddenly, a chill fell throughout my body, and horror overwhelmed me as my mind raced from one emotion to another. I could feel the irreversible denial of trust I could never fathom would happen to me, let alone within a hospital. At that moment, I lost my dignity and self-confidence, confined to that moment, unable to regain myself. His hand moved throughout my personal space as he violated my trust and continued to engage in his sexual assault.
Until you are in a situation as horrifying as sexual assault, you are unaware of how you could personally react or respond to another human, negating your basic principles and subjecting you to trauma. I found out.
I am not too prepared to discuss the colleague’s actions that day in detail. I feel each mention or thought removes a further piece of my personality. But, I am willing to share how I think to aid my recovery so other victims of sexual-based crimes can have a voice. The difficulty is the stigma behind the assault. I am a man, and as men, often labelled in a way, such an act should not affect us nor be a ‘problem’. Yet, it does. I began CBT, or cognitive behavioural therapy, last week. I did not realise how much this trauma affects my current mental health. But, it does, in a way that I cannot explain, written or verbally. It simply does.
The worst part of my experience was the HR department’s reporting and lack of care and the fear I had to contact the police (still to this day). It took HR four weeks to respond to my report. For four weeks, I feared working in the workplace I loved and enjoyed. We began to fall behind on our bills, and it remained an ongoing difficulty to tell my girlfriend what had happened. I locked it away, tearing apart my decency and neglecting my humanity. Then, it happened. I walked into our bedroom and looked toward my girlfriend. She knew something was not right. As she asked if I was ok, I began to cry, grabbing ahold of my side, fearing it would happen again, mumbling words, unnecessary and incomplete. Finally, it broke through, the words I struggle to think about and say yet can write. “I was sexually assaulted”. I was a hunched wreck on the bedroom floor, the memory obscured by the trauma. The realisation that my girlfriend knows my pain. Not only was my dignity removed, but my girlfriend lost her boyfriend’s strength and dignity, which made him (me) feel safe.
Her anger was present, and I opposed her actions to confront the colleague (or lack of, more criminal) because I valued my position in the hospital, and I stupidly believed I would once again be safe following an HR investigation. I was wrong. HR informed him, the person who took away my trust, to apologise to me and avoid me. The situation was not simple. The hospital corridors are long, with minimal options for the navigable route from A to B. I had to face him every day. I could not find a new career paying enough for us to survive the current UK financial situation. I was trapped. I was facing this monster every day. He would taunt me when passing in the corridor, making verbal suggestions and further degrading my humility.
At this point, my portering colleagues knew. The managers suggested I avoid A&E, but I still faced him daily in the corridors. He continued to destroy my innocence. In the final months of my position at the hospital, I was a vessel, simply roaming the halls with terrible anxiety and unexplainable emptiness. Nothing could hurt me. But him. Still seeing him. Emotion would run through me, and my worth would diminish. The therapist suggested I write a journal, but to me, a journal would only help the writer, and I hope my anonymous post may help the reader too.
I am still on my journey to recovery. I have a lot more trauma alongside this, which will take a while to process.
Yours in writing,
Anon.
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