Speaking as someone with repeated instances of trauma, I can say that it didn't just injure me in some static readily comprehensible way. It infected and fused with me in ways that grew more complex over time. My defensive responses are highly complicated and impossible to comprehend without an understanding of the events to which they're reacting.
I didn't want to be defined by my trauma (because society doesn't always seem to allow much room for those who are, even though there's so much to be learned from us, as I explained here), yet so much of who I am was built on that foundation, in response to it: the things I'm ashamed of, the things I'm proud of (note: sometimes the two are identical and I'm simultaneously ashamed and proud of the same thing, more often than you might guess). It's impossible to know me without knowing that history, my way of understanding it, and my way of responding to it, and yet I've had to keep it almost entirely to myself.
Specifically with respect to my survival, in my inner world, I'm like a mad genius in an internal hellscape with buttons and levers of different shapes, sizes and colours everywhere in absolute chaos. Although I couldn't exactly explain it to someone else, if I don't press and pull them in the right (yet ever-changing) sequence at the right time, the entire world will be at risk of collapse. It's more of an art than a science. Something I do so well because I've learned it over time. Sometimes I'm a bit slow or press the wrong one, and my whole inner world shakes and shifts and I have to scramble to initiate emergency sequences to re-stabilize things. There's always a cost when that happens, and it happens frequently, but intuitively so far I somehow have known what to pull and press and when because I've lived it; because it's mine; because it's me. I'm an expert in keeping the system running. I've proven I can do it.
It's a terrible way to live. It's exhausting and lonely. I've longed for rest. I've longed for support and assistance. At an even more basic level, I've longed, if nothing else, for the reality of what I'm facing to simply be acknowledged and seen. For empathy.
Someone might point out how unsustainable and painfully limiting the above scenario is. "You can't live with that kind of burden." "Let someone help you. Reach out."
Oh, what a fantastic option that would be. I've dreamed of it so many times. To be able to let someone in. To be able to trust someone else to carry some of that burden or help guide me in doing so. To take over some of the tasks to allow me to rest. Or even just to keep me company in a meaningful way while I continue to carry the burden myself.
But here's the problem. It's not that easy. And I have to be careful. I can't let someone in (either in a personal capacity or in a professional "helper" capacity) if their first impulse will be to boldly and heroically start pressing buttons and levers (or dismantling the whole system I have in place) on the basis that they know best without even taking the time to know why I've had to put that system in place and the nuances of what dangers it's responding to.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying my system is perfect. I have no doubt it isn't. Undoubtedly, some of those buttons and levers are no longer necessary--harmful even. But if I'm wrong about which ones they are, the results could be catastrophic. And since I can't stop pressing buttons and levers in a fast-paced sequence that never permits any rest, I can't take the time to explore the ways in which I might be able to simplify things and reduce the pressure.
But it's not all wrong. It's worked for me. It's kept me alive and functional for a very long time. Experiences that could easily have destroyed me didn't. I'm here. I'm "resilient." I realize my defence mechanisms need fine-tuning, and maybe even major re-assessment and repair, but they're what's kept me alive. I will not give up on them or discard them unless I'm very sure that is what needs to happen and I have some reason to trust in whatever is being offered to replace them.
Maybe if I were already in a state of systems collapse, getting help would be easier. I could just say--"It's a total wreck--here you try." But it isn't. I'm functioning in important ways. It's not stupid or silly for me to want to protect the coping mechanisms and inner wisdom that have saved my life over and over again on a daily basis.
So in the above circumstances, what do I need? I don't need someone storming in like a caped crusader, poking and prodding in a trial-and-error-sort-of-way, saying "Hey, let's see what this button does?" I don't need someone bringing in their own magic "tool" that I've never seen before, that requires me to collapse my own system in the blind faith that theirs might work better (even when statistically their method fails to work for a lot of people, and mine has worked for me, albeit imperfectly, my whole life). At least without taking the time to know me and learn my system of survival, and engage in dialogue with me why their tool might help me better than my current system does (or how it might augment but not replace it).
I need people who understand that it's impossible to know what I need to heal without knowing the elaborate ways in which my own mind and body have both protected and damaged me over a long period of time. I need someone who knows that this takes substantial time, patience, care, and collaboration: an exploration of the many ways in which my complicated history of trauma and my body and brain's way of responding to it have forged their own pathways in my inner landscape and have left unique elaborate imprints on my body, brain and spirit.
Or if the capacity for time, patience, and care are limited, among acquaintances and professionals (as they so often understandably are), then I need them to understand the import of this limitation and the danger it poses to me, and proceed with great deference and humility. When they don't have the time to learn how to help navigate and repair the system I already have in place, they can simply and humbly assist by asking, "What do you need?" Perhaps they can be a momentary extra set of eyes or hands to help ease the strain on me as I continue to keep my inner world operational. Maybe they can help me get a bit of rest by offering to perform some of the tasks I would otherwise have to do to keep myself functioning. Such assistance would be no strain on their own limitations at all, if only they're willing to help in a way that reflects humility and faith in my understanding of my own inner world.
That doesn't mean I don't understand and appreciate that "specialists" exist. People who've, broadly speaking, seen people with similarly complicated inner worlds and have a great deal of knowledge that could really help me. I would love the assistance of people like that (and fortunately I now do have such assistance). They can be incredibly valuable. Their general knowledge of how systems like mine can often work--the type of damage often seen, the kinds of tools that often help--is incredibly valuable. But not if they ignore the particularity and complexity of how it actually works and has evolved for me. I know that this is delicate and complicated work because I've been living it every day for years and decades. A push or pull in the wrong direction can have severe consequences for me. I don't care how much general knowledge someone has. The ways in which I've been affected undoubtedly follow some general patterns, but also have highly specific effects on me in ways that are very consequential to me. If an "expert" doesn't have the humility to listen carefully to me and learn from me, then they are just as dangerous (if not more so), then someone who purports to have no such "expert" knowledge. Moreover, in my view, the fact that they take such an approach shows they don't actually understand the true nature of their supposed area of expertise. There are many general truths about trauma but the one I know for sure, for me at least, as I've outlined above, is how highly personal it is: how it has taken who I am, in all my particularity, and fused itself with me. You can't know my trauma without knowing me. Without knowing my story in all its rich detail.
The only "experts," "friends," and "helpers" I can trust are the ones who know that they don't know what I need yet. They may have ideas, hypotheses, and hopes. But most of all, I want them to see me, believe me, and listen to me. I need to know they aren't just going to burst into my inner world and start heedlessly and arrogantly stomping on and rearranging things.
So the lesson from the above: in my view, if your experience of trauma is like mine in this general way, then you don't need to be sorry for doing what you feel you must to protect yourself and your inner survival system of buttons and pulleys. You needn't feel sorry for honouring the ways in which your coping tools have kept you alive. You needn't feel that you are doing something wrong or failing if you need to proceed slowly, and take your time to be sure of your next steps before entrusting your trauma to another person, worldview, or treatment approach.
If your trauma is like mine, it is not a broken leg that someone else can treat without your input in accordance with readily accepted protocols. It is complicated, it is personal, it is you. You have a right to have a say in how you move forward. You have a right to be the director of your own healing.
In saying the above, I'm not saying "don't reach out," or "you can do it on your own." I'm saying that it is okay to be cautious in deciding what supports will work for you. It is okay to take the time and space to figure out what you might feel comfortable with (however, as I alluded to above, sometimes if the collapse and strain are too much, we may need or want to temporarily surrender our directing role, and that's okay too).
Bottom line: It's not wrong to put our trust in others. It's not wrong to let go of our burdens and hand them over to trusted people if that feels right for us. But it's also not wrong to honour the complexity of our inner world and system of survival by proceeding at a pace and in a way that feels safe for us. Whatever works to help you feel safe is one more step towards self-protection. Feel free to honour that rather than feel ashamed of it. If you're not ready for something, that's okay in my books . You can use your own inner wisdom to decide what other steps might work for you in the meantime while you move forward at your own pace in figuring it out (as I wrote about here).
I've had the benefit of professional assistance for a year now. It's been absolutely life-saving and I can't imagine how I would have survived this past year without it. In that sense, I'm a huge proponent of encouraging people not to feel they have to do this on their own. But the reason that professional support has been so helpful (rather than damaging) to me is that I was very cautious about whom I trusted. I was very limited. I had boundaries and I honoured them. So I'm also in favour of encouraging people to do their research and reflect on what feels safe for them, and to trust their own intelligence and self-knowledge in doing so.
We often can't heal ourselves entirely on our own. Our inner systems of survival are reflections of our brilliance, resilience, and wisdom, but they can also become painfully unwieldy, isolating and unsustainable. They can harm us at the same time as they keep us alive. It's okay to need the support and care of others to re-calibrate and re-align them. We can only do so much on our own. But we have a right to be directors and partners in that process.
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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