Saturday, November 16, 2019

What I Won't Let My Trauma Take from Me

I've lost a lot due to the trauma I've suffered. I haven't really even begun the process of assessing and mourning those losses but when I do, I know it will be incredibly difficult. When the combination of my stressful career and coping with the impact of my trauma became too much for me, I simply pressed pause on my social and personal development for more than a decade so I could continue to be able to function in my career. I withdrew from having an active social life, which means I stopped dating (and am unsure if I ever will resume--how does that even work these days?). Without making a deliberate decision not to do so, I never had children (and now have to face that it is almost certainly too late). Many of my friendships were disrupted, worn down, and ultimately ended as I tried my best to simply manage and cope mostly in silence, never able to explain what was going on with me, with the result that I'm now in my early 40's with minimal social supports, living a very isolated existence.

That's all very painful, but there's something I'm still proud of and can still strive for.

I won't judge others for how they cope with their pain, but I made a pledge to myself long ago about the one thing I won't let my trauma take from me. I won't let it take my compassion and empathy for others. My ability and willingness to see the pain and injustices in the world and feel for those who experience them. And my ability to do so while still being able to (when appropriate) maintain a principled stance, within the limits of whatever my role may be, that enables me not to get swept away by the pain of my own experiences. It's the one thing I've kept at the forefront of my mind the entire time I've suffered: how to be someone who has these difficult experiences, and yet still navigate the difficult moral and ethical landscape of the world with openness and empathy. How to not let those experiences stop me from striving to do better and be better--even if I have to say goodbye to the hopes and dreams I had for myself.

I understand why some might feel a need to withdraw sometimes from doing painful work that triggers them, and I am in no way diminishing the need for self-care. I definitely need to learn to do a better job of taking breaks, recharging, and not committing to more than I can reasonably bear, but I choose not to allow my trauma to lead me to withdraw permanently. I don't want to retreat to some comfortable view of the world while people continue to suffer. I want to use my own trauma to make me a better ally to others who have suffered (whether in the same or different ways as I have). I want to use my own strength that I've had no choice but to develop to enable me to stand alongside others and not turn away when their suffering might just be "too much" for others to witness. I know what it's like to feel like "too much." I want to be one of the people who always strives to build and maintain a capacity to witness the terrible things that happen in the world so I can do what I can to help (as frustratingly limited as my ability to truly change the world may be).

And just as importantly, I choose to continue to be someone who doesn't let my fears, grief, and trauma responses hold me hostage while I do so. If I'm going to remain in the landscape where people suffer, and are harmed, marginalized and oppressed, then I need to have eyes fully open. I need to be capable  of not only reflecting on my own experiences but also stepping back from them to imagine the point of view of others with very different experiences, even when it might otherwise be triggering for me. I'm proud to say this is something I'm capable of doing--a capacity I have carefully cultivated for as long as I can remember--that has served me well in enabling me to function as a principled member of society and an ethical and professionally responsible lawyer while also coping with my own difficult internal life. It's never perfect, but it's something I can proudly keep striving to do better at.

Maybe this way of coping didn't serve me well personally. Maybe it resulted in me directing all of that pain onto myself in ever-harsher ways so it wouldn't infect my ability to empathize and engage with others in the principled way I've felt called upon to do. I'll have to come to terms with whatever losses I may have suffered as a result. And that will truly suck.

But at least there's this one thing I didn't let it take from me. Something I can build on. Something truly meaningful that I can strive to improve on. Something important. Something. 

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:  
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