Somatic Remembering: How My Body Led Me to Report the Doctor Who Violated Me

I'm going to tell you my story—how cannabis and somatic work have helped me heal from sexual trauma.

⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post contains references to sexual trauma and medical assault. Please take care while reading.

When I began using cannabis in a more sacred and conscious way, I simultaneously became more connected to my womb—and to the feminine energy that lives there. As I deepened into this connection and added a yoni egg practice, something profound began to unfold.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the beginning of my somatic awakening.

During one particular cannabis ceremony, I became severely nauseous. This was strange for me, as I had used cannabis for many years to relieve nausea—especially when it was tied to chronic pain or tension in my body.

[You can grab my free Radiant Conscious Cannabis Masterclass here.]

But this time was different.

The nausea was intense. Debilitating. I couldn’t move. I had to lie still and let it move through me.

At the time, I didn’t understand why it was happening. But a few days later, while I was at work, that same wave of nausea hit me again—sudden and familiar. I thought, Maybe I just need to sit down, eat something, drink some water. My body is trying to tell me something.

And then it became clear.

I walked past one of the Care Centers… and saw him.

The same man who, 20 years earlier, had violated me during a gynecological exam.

That was the moment I understood: my body had remembered before my mind did.

Trauma is stored in the body.

And sometimes, the body speaks first—through tension, nausea, flashbacks, or shutdown. It whispers until it screams. And that day, mine screamed.

We go to doctors to be cared for. We trust them. And yet, when I was 17, that trust was broken in the most intimate way.

Years later, as a nurse working in the same region, I found myself having to navigate professional spaces where this man was still practicing. I shared parts of my history with a few trusted colleagues—not all the details, but enough so they’d understand why I preferred to avoid contact with him whenever possible. They were supportive, and usually I was able to keep distance.

But one particular shift, I was the only RN on duty, and I had to contact him regarding a patient. He had recently undergone some sort of surgery, and I guess he was in a vulnerable state. But what happened next shocked me.

When I reached out, he got angry—and accused me of violating him simply by contacting him.

I was stunned. Speechless.

Here was the same man who had once touched me without consent—who had violated my body as a teenager—now telling me that I had crossed a line.

I remember wanting to scream, Do you not remember who I am?
How dare you.

But like so many women, especially in healthcare, I stayed professional. I swallowed it. I got through the shift. But that moment never left me.

It was a visceral reminder of how often power protects itself—and how rarely survivors get the space to speak their truth. That moment deepened my healing. It validated the somatic memory. And it planted a seed.

Going back 23 years ago...