But, for the most part, we don't talk about them in a way that allows them to be real for us.
Often we don't allow ourselves to name them, even when they're clearly affecting us and/or those around us.
Instead, we grope around in the darkness as quietly as we can, hiding from them. We don't want to have to see them. We feel somehow that if we allow ourselves to acknowledge them as real, they'll be more likely to get us, or perhaps we will have no choice then but to face the fact that we are already in their grips.
And if they do get us (as they sadly often eventually do), sometimes we don't want others to know it, since maybe those around us will fearfully avoid us then too. Maybe the darkness will have tainted us for them, leading them to fear seeing things in us that they then won't be able to un-see in their own lives and selves. Maybe they'll fear that the contours and colours of their world will be forever changed by the experience.
For me, a world that many others never allow themselves to see has been within my view for a very long time. It wasn't just hidden in darkness. It had contours, details, sounds, smells, and colors, unmistakably different from the ordinary day-to-day lives that many others seemed to have had.
Even when I was able to partake in the ordinary world of "normal" "successful" people, the vivid details and sensations of that other world I'd seen never left me. Even when I was coping well, its shadows pursued me.
While I was learning how to be a lawyer, and then surviving the pressures of practice, I was also continuing to fight that battle. I never stopped having to navigate the hellscape of that other world while still functioning in the everyday world of lawyers (although sometimes I managed to make it less visible to myself, so I could live in denial of its influence, even while expending considerable internal resources to do so).
I became an expert in its dangers, landscape, hiding places, etc. My expertise-by-experience was never enough to enable me to fully escape it, but I learned how not to let it destroy me. I developed my own tips and techniques that worked for me at the time, and adapted them over and over whenever they failed.
In some ways I felt "weak" because I was experiencing something others around me seemed not to have to deal with. And if some of them were dealing with it, we weren't allowed to talk about, thereby preventing us from knowing who around us might understand what we were going through. The silence thereby promoted our further isolation.
Yet in other ways, somewhat selfishly, I felt frustrated because no one knew how strong I really was. I never got any credit for the battles I'd survived. Yet when I was too tired from my dual fight (my professional activities and my other struggle) and needed to take a break from my everyday activities, I would appear "defeatist" in the eyes of many others. Sometimes I laughed when friends called me this (because I wasn't up for learning how to bake or something). They had no clue what I'd been through or why I had to be selective about what non-essential activities I would take on, why my energy was depleted and I needed to get rest by sacrificing what wasn't absolutely necessary for my personal or professional survival.
Now I'm speaking out and refusing to acquiesce in being seen that way. Call me weak or defeatist if you'd like. Call me attention-seeking and whiny. I have no doubt many still will and I would be lying if I said it won't still sting and the resulting isolation won't still get to me, but for my part I refuse to allow that narrative to be imposed on me any longer.
In and of itself, that refusal to acquiesce can be a powerful act of defiance.
I haven't learned how to use that newfound power yet in a way that I'm confident will help others, but that's my goal.
Here are the ways I think we can use our power (once we are ready to claim it) to be "heroes:"
- By showing others who may be affected that they're not alone or "crazy." They aren't the only ones who see and are affected by another world that those in the mainstream don't acknowledge, whatever it may be. They are part of a team.
- By showing others that they don't have to see themselves as "weak." Just the opposite is true in fact. Permission to give that other world a name and a reality is permission to claim our victories as well as our defeats. Some of us have fought battles greater than most can imagine yet are stuck in a surface reality that gives those success stories (and the strength involved in them) no meaningful recognition. Being able to finally be seen for who we are can be a huge source of strength, as well as a tremendous gift we can give to others when we make space for them to do so as well.
- By sharing what we have learned about strength and survival in those other worlds with others. If others will listen, we have expertise that could help save the world. Unlike fictional superheroes, many of us have fought battles that are real and what we learned from those battles (the tips/techniques etc. that helped us survive) could help others fight their own (provided we understand that everyone's battles will be different in some ways, so what we share can assist, but may need to be adapted/altered to suit others' unique challenges).
- By showing others that there's someone they can connect to who "gets it," a source of solidarity/community/strength. The more of us that do this, the more strength there will be. We can start reclaiming our narratives on a grander scale and not only refuse to be branded as weak, but demand that our stories be seen holistically and that others stop "looking away" from what we have survived. We can have a place to celebrate our amazing accomplishments, the ones the world has refused to see, let alone honour.
- By helping those who have no idea what we've been through, who may be fortunate enough to have lived a genuinely sheltered existence. We can do this by sharing our wisdom and strengths in a way that can be adapted to meet the challenges of the everyday world too (if only they'd finally be willing to listen to us and recognize the value what we can share/teach). Side-note: this is why so many of us are so damn competent at our jobs and why it is laughable to me when those with old-school attitudes suggest we may not belong amidst the pressures of the profession. Obviously we have to manage our load so we don't carry more than what is humanly possible (in addition to what we already have carried/are carrying), but we wouldn't have made it this far if we didn't have extraordinarily good judgment, strength, power and wisdom. That alone should earn us trust and respect, and displace any presumption of incompetence or "weakness." So let's rise up and make sure those calling the shots understand that....
What I envision when I try in my small way to help make space for others who may also be ready to speak is a world in which those who have suffered are given the space and the platform to share what they've learned. In doing so, they can be heroes in so many ways: paving the way for others; bringing light to dark corners of worlds we've previously refused to even acknowledge that so many of us are caught in; forging paths through dense bush so others can follow more easily; providing maps and guidance for others who are lost to find places to escape or take shelter....
Those of us outwardly functioning well can show that it's possible to succeed in the more conventional sense even while struggling with those other worlds, while those who have been "broken" or "damaged" (temporarily or permanently) can show that there's no shame in being affected by forces more powerful than us all--no shame in being human and vulnerable. The beautiful humanity in all kinds of stories can be honoured, celebrated, and--when necessary--mourned.
Most important of all, not only can we become heroes in this way, we can also finally become visible for the heroes we already are.
(For those who need a greater source of inspiration than my feeble words, here is Peter Gabriel's version of "Heroes:" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsvuipGq2ns )
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:
- https://www.canadianlawyermag.com/news/opinion/a-more-inclusive-discussion-on-the-impact-of-trauma-on-lawyers-mental-health-is-needed/276166
- https://www.cbabc.org/BarTalk/Articles/2020/February/Features/Speaking-Up-About-Trauma-and-Mental-Health
- https://www.canadianlawyermag.com/news/opinion/changing-the-conversation/326240
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