The thing about healing is that for some it may be genuinely straightforward and easy. There may be a simple step to take: once you do it, you wonder what took so long and you exclaim, "If only I had done that sooner." Often the messaging on mental health speaks as if all healing is like this: "Reach out and you will be helped" as if it's a presto-change-o magic-pill scenario. Reaching out is the only thing missing. Do that and you'll be saved.
But one thing that I think gets neglected a lot in this discourse is that sometimes (especially with complex trauma) there may be no straight line to healing, no easy path.
Sometimes the depth and complexity of one's suffering makes the path to healing almost unavoidably complicated. There are dangers, difficulties and drawbacks along the way. The obstacles in the path may include pain, grief, and shame, along with overwhelming existential paradoxes the person was trying to avoid facing (perhaps with very good reason).
Hiding from one's pain has its advantages. If we don't acknowledge this, we won't be able to reach those who are opting not to move along the path towards "healing" for legitimate reasons. If we want to truly help those whose path towards attempting to heal may be inherently painful and complex, we need to be able to see the validity in their decision to wait until they are ready. It's difficult enough to walk this path willingly. No one should be forced onto it (unless perhaps because the dangers in remaining stuck are imminently extremely dangerous).
I waited and waited and wasted a huge part of my life in doing so. I had good reason for remaining stuck. I didn't want to implode my life and destroy those few things I was proud of having built. Then one day, it became clear to me that I could wait no longer. My resting place (hiding place) was no longer safe. I had to proceed or perish. I therefore willingly and enthusiastically embarked on a journey of "recovery." I do wish I had started the journey sooner, but, as I fumble along it, I increasingly realize how valid my earlier fears were. I wasn't being stupid. I was making the best choices I could given the dangers I faced in all directions. Maybe the choices I made and the timing of those choices weren't perfect, but I was doing the best I could given the very legitimate concerns and fears I had.
There can be genuine risks involved in the healing process. It isn't all sunshine, kittens and baby bats. Facing and addressing the damage that has accrued to our psyche/brains/bodies over time can be excruciating. To me it sometimes feels like unraveling twisted body parts after a long game of Twister gone horribly wrong. It can be exhausting, painful and dangerous, yet necessary if I'm ever going to have any hope of moving forward.
So here I am, not giving up yet, but doing a lot of soul-searching about this perilous (yet necessary) path I've committed to and what its dangers and drawbacks can teach me. I couldn't turn back now even if I wanted to. The path behind me no longer exists. Maybe there will come a time when the way forward suddenly becomes easier in ways I couldn't have predicted. Maybe something will work wonders for me and I'll exclaim, "Why did I wait so long to start on this path?" Or maybe it will continue to be painful and difficult for a long time.
My message for others who may face a complicated journey: I see you and empathize. We all have to make difficult choices. Please don't infer from the difficulty of my journey that yours will be equally difficult. Many people do describe a much simpler path towards healing. Mine is complicated by the nature of what I've been through and the type of person I am. Maybe if you try, your path will be straightforward and simple.
But if it's not, that's okay. Even if there are no easy answers, there are people who understand. You have my support and compassion even when your path towards healing seems to be going nowhere (or backwards). Even when you're scared and stuck. This stuff isn't easy and that's okay.
The path may not always be easy, but you're not alone on it.
With empathy, solidarity, and, of course, baby bats,
C
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
Love your blog and of course the bat video which drew me right into reading your amazing and insightful blog.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for those very kind words, Beatrice! I knew I couldn't go wrong with a baby bat video = )
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