All I know is that it's inexcusable to me
that all these years have gone by and psychiatry has largely continued to fail
to deal with complex trauma in a meaningful responsive way given the concerns
that have been raised. But that's a topic for another day. Today I'm just doing
me. Psychiatry has not provided a safe system within which I can move towards
healing and/or coping. But I need to make sense of my experiences, so I decided
to create my own. If it resonates with some people, great. If not, it can be
just for me. But I'm reclaiming my right to characterize the essence of my own
suffering.
It's not easy because being a human who is both vulnerable yet also
self-determining is super-complicated
as I wrote here. But here's what I've settled on as my preferred characterization that most
accurately captures what I suffer from: I have "Resilience Overdose Syndrome."
(Note: I'm bad with terminology so I'm not sure about the "syndrome" part. I
just know it's not a "disorder" or "disease." I'm open to changing that term.)
[By way of context, for some of my mixed feelings about the concept of "resilience" please see here and here]
Why Resilience Overdose Syndrome? I really want to write lots and lots about it
because I have many thoughts, but today is just the introduction of the concept.
I'll flesh it out later and welcome input. I've been physically ill lately so I
can't aim for comprehensive and perfect posts (when I can manage to write at
all) but I don't want to let the perfect be the enemy of the good (or the good
to be the enemy of the passably adequate, lol). So here goes.
-Resilience
Overdose Syndrome captures the fact that resilience is both what enabled us to
survive the original adversity/trauma we endured, but also highlights the damage
to us of being required to be so damn "resilient" for so long. Being required to
be resilient in an ongoing way is itself an injury. Resilience is both a
blessing and a curse. We don't need more of it. We need to stop being required to have so much of it. We need spaces in which we can relax and lay it down. We need to be able
to say "f*** resilience" and have people understand. We need to know that we can
be gloriously non-resilient sometimes and still be okay--that a lapse in
resilience won't potentially cost us everything because we don't have the luxury
others without this condition/situation do of ever being able to just count on the systems
and people around us to support us consistently and appropriately.
-It also
highlights a critical point that for many of us the actual harm is ongoing and
the original damage is in fact continuing. This is not about us
improperly continuing to react to a trauma that is in "the past." The thing(s)
that happened to us to cause the original injury may indeed be in the past but
the damage is accruing daily as we have to navigate a world that fails to
protect us just as it did then, fails to provide conditions for us to be
appreciated, included, and healed, and fails to allow us to move through various
social spaces with the same understanding and accommodation that so many others
can. A world that fails to meaningfully address the harms we suffered and
provide truly safe inclusive spaces for those who've been through them. The need
for "resilience" is ongoing for many of us. So the damage is continuing. For me
that damage isn't materially distinct from the original trauma. The original
trauma told me I don't count. I'm not a person whose needs matter. Having to
then be required to live in a world that sends the same message is in fact a
continuation of the trauma and I'm not wrong to feel it's ongoing. (Note: this
won't necessarily be true of everyone who has been traumatized--perhaps some do
find that sense of fit afterwards. I'm simply describing my own situation but
using "we" because I feel very confident I'm not the only one here).
-It
highlights that what needs to be done to "heal" us isn't about something that
needs to be prescribed to us. It's something those who treat and interact with
us need to prescribe to themselves (individually as well as to the systems and
environments in which we interact). I'm not saying that via the miracle of
human endurance (and, yes, resilience) some people might not through a
combination of circumstance, strength, and good fortune find ways to situate
themselves better so they no longer have to be so resilient, thereby healing
themselves. I'm not saying that it may not help us to learn from those shining
examples of "resilience" in case what worked for them may resonate with some
others and increase their chances of achieving peak transformative resilience.
I'm saying those individual accomplishments will never be THE answer, and they're not
what our focus should be. What people with my condition need isn't
increased resilience but decreased need for resilience in the first place. It's not something we can necessarily always do for ourselves. It needs to be
a team effort. So the question isn't how affected people can change so they can
heal. It's how we collectively and individually change the conditions in which
people interact so they won't need to be so damn resilient anymore.
So the answer isn't
(only) what the doctor should prescribe us, but what the doctor (and the systems
within which they work) should do themselves. "You have resilience overdose
syndrome. I prescribe to myself and to the system a more flexible and
understanding medical system (and social environment) so you have less of a need
to be resilient in the future." In the meantime, those of us with resilience
overdose syndrome may need to prescribe to ourselves a non-engagement or limited
engagement with systems and people that make our condition worse: that impose
further damage requiring even more resilience from us.
None of what I've said is
totally new. Others have made similar points and I'll say more in the future but
this is just me explaining why I've chosen this label for myself, whether
medical professionals acknowledge it or not (spoiler alert: they don't). It's
not simple. There's nuance and complexity that I'll explore later. It aligns to
some degree with what a lot of "trauma-informed" folx are already saying
(although I find many still end up lapsing into old ways of thinking that don't
work for me; I'll elaborate on this later with my concerns about the framing of
concepts like "emotion dysregulation" etc.--that I feel are corrected by my personal
framework).
Anyway that's just a tiny sneak preview of my new way of
self-identifying. In the meantime, maybe 2021 can be the year we can safely declare (if we wish to): f*** resilience!
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.
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:
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