Monday, December 28, 2020

"Healing" Space (from Psychiatry)

Imagine a version of science that in conquering a subject matter and reducing it to a set of simple equations and "truths" inherently harms, if not destroys, it.

That's my personal experience of what currently seems to be mainstream psychiatry: as someone who has  has lived in (justifiable and rational for me) fear of and flight from it for as long as I can remember. 

It can be true that what psychiatry offers may be helpful and accurate in some contexts and circumstances, yet also that it is woefully inadequate and must be used with incredible caution, humility and restraint in others.That it's exactly the lifesaving measure that some people need and a dehumanizing violation for others if applied rigidly on its own terms with no humility about its role. It can make the suffering of some more visible and relatable, while erasing and dehumanizing the suffering of others. None of this is simple.

I know my perspective is not everyone's experience of psychiatry. For some, it fits and works. For whatever reason, the equations and "truths" it offers work for them, steal nothing away from them, and the process doesn't reenact trauma for them (thereby exacerbating the very harms they needed support for in the first place).

I have no interest in undermining that or taking any helpful tool away from anyone. And of course psychiatry has other functions (apart from healing for healing's sake) that I'm not going to address here. Bottom line: I'm more than prepared to acknowledge that it likely is a helpful tool for *some* (not my place to pre-emptively quantify how many or what proportion--we'd have to actually listen to people for that).

But not for me. And here's the thing. As a rule, my trauma and I don't "fit." It's complex and very much shaped by many of the complicated experiences I had as an "outsider." 

Psychiatry isn't a value-neutral endeavour. I'm not going to argue this point because it should be painfully obvious. Nowhere is it written in some objectively discernible language what the best way to spend our limited time on earth is and what counts as a "healthy" version of that life. Value judgments (influenced by culture/gender and other norms) are at the heart of a lot of those questions, as well as complicated metaphysical questions with potential spiritual implications. Philosophers have been debating all these points since forever, and continue to do so. Literature continues to grapple with them too. We generally aim to give people space to decide how they feel about them.

Not to mention how what counts as a behavioural/psychological excess or deficiency may be very context-dependent. Some people have far more space for their impulses to be seamlessly enacted into reality because they happen to have a lot of privilege and their way of being in the world "fits" with society's norms. I could say so much more about that, but it's not the topic of this post (future post entitled "mismatch" will follow someday).

I'm not saying there are no truths. I'm not saying science and its methods may not play a role in that (although there's room for debate about the role "science" plays and what the scope/limits of "science" and its ways of knowing are generally, which I needn't get into here). I'm saying for me at least the ability to form my own views, to have autonomy, to have space to reflect, weigh, consider and choose what's persuasive for me to try is absolutely essential. Taking that away reinforces the harm for which I was seeking help. 

Here's what it comes down to for me:  an essential component of the harm of trauma for me was the damage to my autonomy and dignity, both in the experiences themselves and the way it situated me in relation to others who don't understand, allow space/visibility for it, and accordingly reenact it. It was invasive, coercive, and dehumanizing. And it intensified the deepest existential questions for me (some of  the most horrible existential paradoxes and painful realities are imprinted in my awareness in an especially intense way).

I'm no longer in the situations that produced my trauma in the first place; however, there are few things more invasive, coercive and dehumanizing to me than having those core questions that were made even more intense by my traumatic experiences taken away from me and used by someone else (no less an entire system) to impose their own answers on me and deem me "ill" or "non-compliant" if I don't accept their highly debatable answers and approaches--if my choice of how to engage is not respected--to what extent to expose myself to someone else's "assessment" for instance--to what extent I'm permitted to decline to answer invasively personal questions, or choose to do so only when I feel safe and comfortable.

The most critical antidote for my trauma, and an absolute precondition to me being able to safely engage with anything potentially "helpful" or "healing" is space. Space for me to be human. To be free to weigh and consider difficult existential and value-laden questions in the way that works for me, in a way that accounts for what I've experienced of the world, not just what the prevailing narrative is. Space to breathe and be human with my own choices, thoughts, feelings and attitudes. To be irrational and say no. To be a bit reckless and say yes. To pause and be stuck sometimes and say "I don't know." And to sit with those feelings for as long as feels right, safe and comfortable for me. And to only move forward when I feel safe.

Yet psychiatry doesn't seem to present itself as opinion, but as some kind of independently objectively established fact. It doesn't seem to leave space for my own answers to my own questions. It invades, suffocates, and restrains by removing a lot of those questions from genuine consideration: by centring itself, its own answers, methods and ways. 

For me, what I need is the right kind of space within which I can be permitted the autonomy, dignity and safety that were taken away from me in the past--not a supposedly "correct objective answer" that adds even more coercion, erasure, and damage to what I've already endured: that takes away the one safe space I had to potentially call my own: my own mind, my own attitudes/feelings, my creativity, my own attempts to make sense of what I've been through and what it means for how I choose to move forward. Of course it's complicated because even this space often doesn't feel free because trauma invaded it, but it's still mine at least sometimes and in some ways. The last thing I need is my last refuge (however imperfect it may be) taken from me. Rather I need any "helper" to de-centre themselves and whatever "system" or "answers" work for them. And join me in helping to assist me in finding my own answers and my own experience of that beautifully buffering zone of safety: my place to explore what it means for me to be human in a profoundly imperfect world. 

 So speaking only for myself: I have no interest in any pre-packaged answers or systems. I welcome tools, offerings and suggestions. But I need space. I can't be healed without it. 

Am I "anti-psychiatry" then? Yes and no and maybe. I'm opposed to anything systematically cloaking itself in neutrality and objectivity to cover over deep philosophical questions that are anything but neutral. They're value-laden and how we answer many of them can very much depend on how we are situated and whether we "fit."  So yeah psychiatry in that sense is something I'm deeply not okay with. 

Yet as a tool that can humbly help people who choose and want its assistance, I'm all for it. As a potential set of tools that knows its own limits, it can be lifesaving for some people. I applaud those success stories and want them to continue. But its value depends for me on its humility. There's a huge difference between someone who says "Here's something you may wish to try" and lets me decide to take it or leave it vs. someone who says "Here is the answer." Psychiatry for me to be beneficial must realize and embrace the ways in which it is NOT pure science--it straddles the border between mind and body with all the philosophical paradoxes and uncertainty that may invoke for some of us. It has a set of science-y tools at the ready for those who find them helpful, but should (to be potentially helpful to me) be ready to simply be there and allow space for those who need to sit with those uncertainties in their own unique ways that can't readily be reduced to a scientific equation, protocol or procedure. 

Accepting a potential need for space for uncertainty/paradoxes/conflicting possible answers to the biggest questions can be part of what's required for some of our healing. Space to not be comprehensively assessed, diagnosed and prescribed (what to do and feel). Yet I don't see psychiatry handling this well. In my view embracing the limits and inherent uncertainty of its foundations rather than trying to be a science exactly like the others could make psychiatry so much better. It could have all the benefits of the science-informed aspects (possible tools) without the dehumanizing, coercive reductionism/erasure. 

So basically my question is this: what if the essence of healing for some of us includes the ability to experience a collaborative space where paradoxes and uncertainties are held and endured with gentleness? Where we get to decide how quickly and deeply to engage and explore? 

And what if psychiatry invades that space, thereby reenacting the very same trauma that stole our ability to safely experience it in the first place? How does psychiatry handle that? Does it destroy the very thing we need help with? For me, speaking only for myself, it does and for me it's inexcusable. But it wouldn't have to if it could learn to accept (and perhaps prescribe to itself) a large dose of humility.

I'm glad the tools and the answers psychiatry gives help some people, but that's no excuse to exclude those of us who are harmed from the conversation just because we complicate the issue for those who are helped. Just because it fits some people's experience doesn't mean it's balanced. Something that reenacts trauma for many isn't justified simply because it works for some. It can be held onto as a tool for the people who wish it without its conquering assertion of supremacy tearing down those necessary tentative gentle spaces for those of us who need them.

My concerns aren't limited to psychiatry though it's the most oppressively invasively space-eliminating force that I've encountered. I'd say the same to many "evidence-based" therapy modalities that presume to have the answers. As well as a lot of folk wisdom, societal norms, overbearing well-wishers,  or anything that threatens to take that space (autonomy/dignity) away.

Being human is inherently complicated. There are a lot of deep painful mysterious profoundly personal existential questions we all may sometimes need or choose to cope with or flee from in the way that works for us. The differences in how we do so aren't a problem to be conquered so that the one "true" answer or approach that works for all can be enacted. 

Embracing uncertainty can enable us to embrace diversity, autonomy, and dignity of those who don't "fit" the way others do--often the very same people who've seen the worst that humanity and society have to offer. 

There are all sorts of complexities in the above. I'm addressing it only from a perspective of healing (assuming the person isn't harming other people in their lives--for whom "healing" may become about more than just themselves in ways that could get complicated).

So those are just some rambling reflections for today. Not really even a full post. I may delete and reformulate later. And these are subjects I've already written about so if I say anything here that sounds outrageously different than what I've said in the past, the past writing is likely more accurate...




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 2019 "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: 



Wednesday, December 2, 2020

The Harms of "Only" "Always" & "Never" (The Single Sentence of "Trauma & Recovery" That Hurt Me for 20+ Years)

I love Judith Herman's book "Trauma and Recovery" more than any book I've ever read.

It saved me in so many ways.

And yet it wounded me deeply in a way that's still with me 20+ years later.

I've written a lot (eg, here) about the need to try to avoid unnecessarily using grand sweeping statements about trauma and mental health. Such statements are frequently damaging (note how I didn't say "always"--easy peasy!) and can exclude people whose circumstances may not have been contemplated by the maker of the statement.

With deeply damaging effects....

So here's the example from "Trauma & Recovery" that hurt me, badly, and still does (first paragraph, Chapter 5).


The part that hurt me? "When the victim is free to escape, she will not be abused a second time; repeated trauma occurs only when the victim is a prisoner, unable to flee, and under the control of the perpetrator."

Ouch.

I should acknowledge that the chapter that follows adds context that softens the impact of this bold statement and addresses ways in which people can be "captive" that aren't quite so literal.

Nevertheless, this statement still hurt me. Because it's neither fair nor accurate. And it was totally unnecessary.

Regardless of how we define captivity (unless it means simply existing in a world in which someone with more power than you in a given situation can decide to surface and harm you even after they've let you go and you've completely moved on from them), it's demonstrably false that you can't be repeatedly victimized by someone if you aren't their captive. Perhaps it's not the norm. But neither is it rare.

Consider a few random examples I just thought up because I make it a practice to avoid accepting an "only" without carefully thinking of possible scenarios to negate it:

--Repeated instances of intimate partner violence after the relationship has ended and the parties have gone their separate ways and completely disentangled their lives, but the abusive partner either decides to resurface and harm the person again or they come into contact by chance and further abuse occurs;

--Stalking--arguably this could be a form of captivity, but that's straining the definition of captivity, unless it's acknowledged that the way some people exercise the power they can hold over another person can render that other person captive in their own lives;

--Opportunistic abuse: e.g., when a particular type of "predator" harms anyone of a particular demographic that they can get access to, and it just so happens that those circumstances that make the abuse possible recur, not because of captivity but because of people living their lives just as they would if they'd never even met.

I won't share why it hurt me. I'm not up for that. My sharing doesn't extend that far (I'm frustrated that I've had to say even this much to make my point). But it's a clearly false statement, and I've seen numerous examples of the above. Surely she is not saying those scenarios can't occur? Or that they are the victims' fault for failing to ensure (upon having regained freedom) that the abuse did not happen a second time?

Yet what else could those grand sweeping words imply? To someone already struggling with self-blame and reaching for an authoritative book by a brilliant expert in the field to find answers?

And the answer isn't to strain the definition of captivity even further. For one thing, that would make no sense (captivity can't just mean that someone finds a way to hurt you again while you are freely living your life). For another, it would distort the experience (which I'll suggest can be its own kind of trauma) of what it's like to be harmed repeatedly even after you got free. To not be captive, and yet still be targeted repeatedly by someone who lets you live your life until such time as they plan or decide on a whim to hurt you again.

I still admire her and am grateful for the rest of the book (which isn't to say I agreed with every other word and idea in it--but overall it helped me more than anything else). But I had to stop reading it for a bit when I got to Chapter 5, and it took a lot out of me to be able to pick it up again.

It's just far too easy when we discuss these big issues to be grand and sweeping to make our point. Those "always's" "only's" and "never's" are beautiful and powerful in their simplicity and rhetorical effect.

But I'm asking that we please pause and resist them. I'm not saying "never" use them or "always" avoid them, but let's please be really careful and use them incredibly sparingly.

And always, yes *always*, let's listen afterwards for the ways in which we may need to revise them to soften the harm they caused to someone that we didn't anticipate.

In a perfect world, the next edition of the book would no longer contain those words. 

Or perhaps simply say: "When the victim is free to escape, she will usually not be abused a second time; repeated trauma usually occurs only when the victim is a prisoner, unable to flee, and under the control of the perpetrator."

Those slight changes (the addition of a single humbler word in two places) would have spared me 20+ years of self-doubt and self-blame that continue to this day because those words persist (and made it into a second edition).

I'm making an example here not to attack her. If you asked me what my favourite book ever written was, that would be #1. Overall, it was life-saving for me to read it. 

I'm doing it to show how easy it can be to lapse into that kind of language even when we are generally extremely trauma-informed--even when we are writing a guidebook that will teach others how to be trauma-informed.

And because it hurt me, deeply--yet avoidably--and I needed to say so.

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: