One of the most poignant things I’ve ever read about secondary PTSD or burn out is from the book Trauma Stewardship: An Everyday Guide to Caring for Self While Caring for Others by Laura van Dernoot Lipsky and Connie Burk. They used an excellent illustration. While on vacation with family, standing at the top of a ledge overlooking a beautiful valley the author thought to herself, “how many people have ended their life here?” When her family looked at her quizzically she realized that her own experiences and thoughts were shaped by the trauma and pain she carried around with her from her clients. This is real. Sometimes it feels too heavy to help others, and we should talk about why.
I’ve long battled my own depression and suicidal thoughts and attempts. As a teenager and young woman in my 20’s, at the height of my mental health crisis I lost friends. This is something I still struggle with to today. In the beginning I couldn’t fathom walking away from someone when they’re struggling and I felt betrayed in more than one way. In truth there were many reasons friendships in my life came and went, but as I’ve grown, worked through my mental health, I’ve looked back through those fall outs through a different lens and I’ve felt convicted along with the hurt and sadness.
The thing is. We live in a society of trauma filled people. Each of us makes a choice as to how to handle that trauma. Some of us ignore it, pack it away and shove it up in our closet to never see again until the earthquake happens to shake it loose. Some sit and sort through the trauma over and over again - putting it up and away and then taking it down and walking down memory lane over and over again. And then there are those who take that trauma and unpack it and navigate each piece to determine if they need to keep that with them or if they are ready to let it burn.
Trauma therapy is a blend of all of those options at times.
As advocates, as people trying to help others we often end up being that person on the other end of their trauma processing. We hear the stories of children being abused or murdered. We wait for phone calls that a client we just spoke to was murdered by their spouse or partner. We sit and hold hands in a cold hospital room while our client retells the most frightening experience of their life. We offer housing, therapy services, legal services and slew of other services, but we are the primary hearer of these experiences.
We carry those stories with us and sometimes those stories become intertwined into our lives. We find ourselves sitting with our spouses angrily only to discover later our anger had nothing to do with them - we were feeling the anger of our client who’s spouse gaslights them every day. The tiniest things can set us off, we feel triggered by an accident touch, a joke at the wrong time and worse lose our ability to support those around us through their own issues.
I write and talk often about the need to foster a community and a culture where we can be loving and supportive of one another. A culture that doesn’t demand those who are hurting hide in the darkness or find a single room where they can unpack and review their trauma. This is so incredibly important.
As I reflect on these hopes and my own experiences with my personal trauma, my relationships, and my working relationships with secondary PTSD, I realize that we have to begin first by working through our own trauma and setting up boundaries to protect ourselves.
My friend, Sarah Super, the founder of Breaking the Silence once said that when we offer our support to each other - which is important - to know what our boundaries are. If we know we aren’t available at 2:00a, don't say “call me day or night! I’m here for your always!” We have to take care of ourselves before we can care for others.
Our boundaries set examples of what healthy living looks like. Navigating the trauma we’ve endured is lonely and scary and there are times we need to lean on each other. Times we just need to process and vent. Times we don’t want someone to solve it, but we want someone to sit with us in the darkness and say, “I am here. you’re not alone.”
My own secondary trauma hasn’t always allowed me to do this. The burn out is real and exhausting. Finding myself hypervigilent all the time, waiting for the next trauma to move into my home. Sometimes as I’m unpacking my suitcase of trauma in my therapy I realize the trauma isn’t even mine to process of solve. Learning to let go has been one of the hardest things I’ve done.
Even if you’ve never worked in the advocacy field you could still have secondary trauma if you are the primary care taker of family or friends who suffer from medical and mental health issues.
So here’s the thing. Take care of you. Know your limits. Don’t carry the pain of others with you, but allow the pain of others to drop when it’s given to you. If you find yourself struggling to love others the way you desire to or can’t help and be there for relationships that are important I encourage you to check that suitcase you’ve got.
The truth is, until we can truly be authentic in our love, trauma will always hide rather than heal.
Be compassionate. Be understanding. Be thoughtful. Don’t brush people off. Don’t invalidate. Love others. Love yourself.
In Truth,
Jess
