Trauma Stewardship

by Laura van Dernoot Lipsky

  PROFILEDEADRIA BOYLAND

  SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

  CURRENTLY: Manager, the Community Advocacy Program, New Beginnings.

  FORMERLY: Shelter program manager at a domestic violence agency for 10 years.

  I was taught by my mother and father that you really have to take care of yourself, and also that taking care of yourself means being responsible. What that could look like is working hard, showing up every day, building that trust, so when you do need to take time off, people realize that you’re not taking time off to just not come to work, but that you’re taking time off to take care of yourself. And it’s important that you work hard, have good structure and a good balance, so that when you’re being affected by your work, you can see the signs and you can do things to take care of yourself.

  When I’m affected by a woman’s story or someone tells me something about a domestic violence situation, I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel for that person. I think about them all day every day, and I can feel their pain. I know it’s not the pain they feel, but in some sense I feel pain for them. I’m frustrated and irritated, and I want to fix it. I find myself calling back to work once I get home to see how she’s doing or what’s going on with the kids. I find myself moving into the advocacy role and away from the supervisor role; I start to switch roles and I realize it. I can see that transition happening, and I know that’s not healthy, but somehow I manage to do it all. What I hear from other people is “Thank God you were here” or “Oh my God, I didn’t think of that,” which in some way makes you feel like you are doing a great job—but what it really means is that I’ve taken on someone else’s trauma, and not only am I doing my job but someone else’s job, too, and I start to realize that this is not healthy.

  I can be a little compulsive in my work life and in my personal life as well. So being organized helps me realize when something is about to go down. I’ve realized that some staff are not so organized and may not realize how they’re being impacted until they are sick, depressed, or really in the middle of a breakdown.

  I don’t know if people understand this, but when you’re on autopilot and you’re multitasking and you’re not listening to what your body needs, like rest, a healthy meal, or laughter, this can be a result of trauma, and the way you deal with it can look different. You might show signs of depression, anger, avoidance, procrastination, or taking on too many things at once.

  Being healthy and having a healthy lifestyle outside of work and having activities, that’s what keeps me grounded. I could say that years ago it probably affected me more because I would stay at the shelter for 10 or 12 hours a day and come in on the weekends—it was my life. When I had a family, all that changed, and I put things in perspective. I realized there are things I can do and things I can’t do, and I really think my solidness, my ability to be grounded, is what keeps everything else grounded. I can focus because I’m not bogged down by the trauma and the stress.

  I think taking trainings on secondary trauma has helped [our agency] become well informed. Having someone from the outside who could work with us on trauma exposure has given us a clear perspective. Having monthly meetings where we can talk about situations that occurred on our shifts can provide support. This allows us to leave work at work and not necessarily take it home. Joining committees and networking with people who do the same kind of work in different agencies can help; connecting to people who I could talk to outside my agency but who could understand the work also helped. And I think the most important thing is recognizing that trauma exists, because if you deny that it’s there, then you’re suppressing it and not dealing with it. Being able to recognize it is huge.

  There are a couple of things that I recognize as a manager. I recognize when we have a high-needs environment. I pay attention to the stories that women share, and I’m aware of how those stories will affect the advocates. I know there are some advocates who are going to be affected more because of their own histories with domestic violence, and I can see that coming down the pike. So I meet with them, talk with them, and touch base with them. I ask them how they’re doing and feeling and ask if they want to talk, or if they need to take a walk.

  Before each advocate starts her shift, she must debrief or overlap with the outgoing advocate. I’m adamant about the outgoing advocate purging before they leave. I want to be sure when they leave for the day that they don’t take home the stress and trauma from the shift. And if that doesn’t work, they can meet with me one-on-one. You can also do both, and that’s always ongoing. That’s always the process. They technically have 30 minutes, but I give them an hour to debrief if they need it, because they’re still attending to the women and children in the program. I always tell them, when you leave here, you need to physically shake it off and walk out the front door.

  I have very driven advocates. They work like there’s no tomorrow. They are committed and dedicated. They believe in the work. Sometimes they are traumatized by the situations and the stories that they hear, but they continue to work together. I believe the reason why they work so well together is that I continually say to them,“We are a team.” I tell them that if we don’t work together as a team, we can’t function properly. When an advocate leaves the program, I think about who will be the next team member to join us and how we can continue to keep this group cohesive. I believe that you have to work together, so you have to get along, like each other, and you have to support each other 100 percent. If I’m supporting you 100 percent, you have to give 100 percent.

  In their personal insurance, our advocates have counseling resources. If you need to have time off, then request it and take the time. I respect them for taking their time off. I pay attention to their leave balance, because if I see that you’re someone who is always using up all your leave, then I sit with you and ask what’s going on. I want them to have the hours if they need them, but not deplete them.

  I make myself accessible to the advocates. But they also know I’m going to hold them accountable. You can’t just come to me and say, “I’m falling apart and I’m going to keep falling apart.”They know I’m going to say, “Let’s make a plan, and I expect you to stick to it, and I’m going to hold you to that plan,” and I also support them every step of the way. I’m going to say to them, “This is what I notice; let me know what’s going on so I can help you. It’s not going to get better unless you talk about it. I can’t fix it, only you can fix it, but I can support you.” Once we have that conversation, the doors just open, and then I can help them navigate a plan that works.

  I can sense when things are wrong, and I ask them to come into my office. I purposely sit in another chair, because I don’t want them to see me as a supervisor but as a support person. Once they share what’s going on, we create a plan and then discuss some options, and I ask what they’d like to do. Then I say,“We talked about it today and we’re going to meet next week, and we’re going to see what you’ve done.” I hear from folks that they feel better, and then I say,“Oh, but we’re not done. What’s our plan for next week?” And we keep going until I feel like they have a better understanding about what’s going on with them. I’m not doing the legwork, but I help them with their plan.

  My thought is if they don’t have a plan on how to deal with their trauma, then they can’t do their work. If they can’t process what is happening to them personally, then it sits with them and pesters them all day long and they can’t focus on being an advocate. By creating a self-care plan, they can begin to focus on their work, which is much like the women we serve, right? We must help the clients create safety plans and goals. We as advocates are helping others, but it doesn’t mean we don’t need help, too.

  I have to be a leader. I have to practice what I preach. I can’t say these things to them and ask them to follow a plan and hold them accountable if I’m not doing it myself. It won’t work if I don’t walk the walk. I confer with other people who can support me and who can help me think and talk through my work. I lo
ok at it as the domino effect, and it comes full circle. I get support and then I’m able to support others. I have to be accountable so that I can be a leader.

  It’s not my program. It’s our program. And they’re all a part of it. They’re a part of every single piece of it, and it’s funny because I’m supposed to take a sabbatical, and I’ve taught just about everyone how to do my job. I have no concerns about someone trying to take my job. I think it builds trust if they know what I’m doing. Advocates know that there’s the good, the bad, and the ugly in this work. The good is when your heart wants to help; the bad is when you don’t feel like the system is on your side; and the ugly is the hoops you have to jump through to keep things running. If advocates are aware of all the aspects of the job, then they are more inclined to be invested in the results at the end. If I treat them like I’m superior to them and act like I have all the answers, then I lose that trust and they lose respect for their job and me. How do I do this? I include them when decisions need to be made. I want them to be creative in their work; I want them to reach out and network with others, join agency committees, or go to outside trainings. I want them to do more than just come to work.

  When we need to hire a new staff person, they take turns on the hiring committee with me so they can understand what that process is like. I want their support with bringing on a new staff person. I try to create a space where everyone is included. There’s no us and them. I think creating that space of safety helps cut down on the impact of trauma exposure. When something is about to go down, we can deal with the trauma that is coming in the front door. You can deal with the impact that that woman’s story is going to have on you because of the way we support one another.

  I think I’m here because I have figured out how to do the job and also to be of support to others. I’m driven to help others do this work and be successful at it. By successful, I mean doing it and being healthy. Because really, I don’t see the end of domestic violence coming anytime soon, so to me, being successful is being able to do it while you’re still taking care of yourself. It matters because people who are in need are coming to us for services, and we have to be ready for whatever they’re about to say, and I think the healthier we are, the better we are able to provide supportive services. If a woman comes in and says, “I’ve been held in my house and I wasn’t able to leave, and my child was sexually abused and I don’t know what to do,” I know at this point that this woman, one, needs to talk; two, needs some counseling; three, needs help to attend to her child. I’m able to give her the appropriate support and not just refer her to another office because she’s not just a number to me. It’s sad to see advocates who are burned out and will treat women like a number.

  The advocates care a great deal about the children that come in with the women. They will go that extra, extra, extra mile for a child. You’re not only looking at a woman who’s been traumatized, you’re looking at a child who has also suffered a traumatic situation. I think it’s amazing when they can support both groups of people.

  I think this is what I’m here to do. I don’t think it’s an accident. I’m here for a reason. I have an ability to support others who support others, and why not? Isn’t that what the whole world needs? People want to have connection and support. That’s what we all need. So if I can give in this small way, that means a lot . . . to me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Coming into the Present Moment

  Abandon any hope of fruition. The key instruction is to stay in the present. Don’t get caught up in hopes of what you’ll achieve and how good your situation will be some day in the future. What you do right now is what matters.

  Pema Chödrön, Tibetan Buddhist nun and resident teacher of Gampo Abbey, Nova Scotia

  As I turned toward trauma stewardship, I sought input and direction from every wise person and every loving tradition I could find. Whether in a dharma talk, pipe circle, temazcal, or midrash, or in the teachings and biographies of Nelson Mandela, Pema Chödrön, Desmond Tutu, Wangari Maathai, Thich Nhat Hanh, Viktor Frankl, and others, I looked for the specific ways that people maintained clarity and wisdom in the face of suffering. Whether the suffering originated in the polluting of a country’s water supply or in the horrors of apartheid, the method was similar. The ancient traditions and the contemporary teachers I studied consistently valued one thing in particular: being awake, present, and aware in this moment.

  As I studied and practiced, I became interested in the recurrence of this idea. While it is an understatement to say that the cultural, spiritual, and religious traditions I explored have many differences, the wisdom of present awareness draws them together. Each tradition draws on centuries of distinct experience, but at the core of their collective wisdom is an invitation to live your life from the here and now, not in an anticipated future or a ruminated past.

  There are a number of reasons why being in the present moment is helpful in trauma stewardship. One is that until we slow down enough to honestly feel how we are doing, we can’t assess our current state and what we need. As the American actress, playwright, and screenwriter Mae West said, “When in doubt, take a bath.” When we keep ourselves numbed out on adrenaline or overworking or cynicism, we don’t have an accurate internal gauge of ourselves and our needs.

  According to Peter Levine, what we need to do is to attune to our “felt sense.” The felt sense is what tells you where you are and how you feel, moment by moment. While it is subtle and we often take it for granted, it is an extremely powerful first step to “trust your gut.” Levine states, “Nature has not forgotten us, we have forgotten it. A traumatized person’s nervous system is not damaged; it is frozen in a kind of suspended animation. Rediscovering the felt sense will bring warmth and vitality to our experiences. . . . We have built-in mechanisms for responding to and moving towards natural resolution of trauma.”

  Hyperintellectualism occurs when we seek to abandon the felt sense altogether. We may attempt to move out of our bodies, hearts, and spirits to live only in our heads. In humans, part of the left cortex in our brains is programmed to try to make meaning of our experiences. Thus, we can see how when humans become profoundly overwhelmed or confused, a natural place to take refuge is in our rationalizing minds and in our left brain. There, the brain is working double-time to arrange our experiences into some sort of rational, manageable order—even if this order is wholly disconnected from our right hemisphere’s experience of the felt sense. One thing we want to explore, however, is how we can bring our felt sense and our sense of meaning together—in other words, how we can reconcile the two distinct impressions to create an “integrated state,” as Daniel Siegel refers to it in his work on the neurobiology of mindfulness.

  Charles Newcomb, an engineer and scientist who works with renewable energy assets (solar panels, wind turbines) all over the world, describes the disconnect that happens for him when he gets overly heady in trying to cope with what he sees.“I fall back into this rational mind that says, ‘If we all die because of global warming, it’ll be fine.’ Because I see a tremendous lack of discipline in our species—the urgency of greed is so much more vital than the sensibility of sustainability, and I don’t have a lot of faith. I think sometimes we need that perfect plague to wake us up and release our footprint from this earth. But then I think of one of my children dying from the avian flu. I think about who would be the first to die, and I realize I can’t think that way anymore.”

  A veterinarian and scientist working on conservation medicine for endangered species and animal welfare in Asia talks about trying to mitigate the impact of her work by staying in her head: “I reconcile what I see through an intellectualization of the biology and behavior of humans and the determinism of the physical universe. Not that I have been able to use this rationalization to lessen my grief and anger, try as I do. One simply cannot afford to let up on the very firm grip that one must maintain on one’s emotions. At least, that is the way it is for me.”

  As we dee
pen our ability to make contact with our inner selves, we slowly build our capacity for self-diagnosis and self-healing. Dr. Liu Dong is a master of qigong, an ancient Chinese healing art based on Taoist principles. His tradition teaches that the more we know what is going on externally in the world, the less we know what is going on internally in ourselves. Like other Taoists, Dr. Liu believes that we all hold a piece of the universal spirit. As we live our lives and become attached to the outside world, this light within—which some traditions call the divine, some call yuan shen, some call self-awareness—becomes clouded over. By coming into the present moment and bringing our awareness within us, we can self-purify and self-transform.

  These Chinese teachings state that self-healing and early diagnosis of personal ailments comes out of quieting our external attachments and channeling all our energy into one intention—an act of focus that leads us to the qigong state, which we hope eventually to experience in every moment. The qigong state can happen only in the now. It puts us in touch with our divine, brilliant nature. When we are in it, we receive energy from the universe instead of letting it be drained from us. While Chinese medicine acknowledges it is human nature to be externally focused, Dr. Liu grew up being told, “Study, but not too much. Think, but not too much.”

  These beliefs are reflected in other traditions around the world. Science is beginning to reflect what sages, shamans, and healers have known for centuries. Brain wave testing shows that many healers, from Native American medicine men and women performing rituals to meditating Buddhist monks and nuns, reach a state in which their brains are producing delta waves, the same type of brain waves that newborns produce day-to-day. As Kenneth Cohen writes in his book The Way of Qigong,