Starting...

I'm calling it 'a work in progress' because I know it is going to be hard work, and I'm hoping there will be progress. I feel like there has to be some progress, because this feels so truly like what I need to do. I know it is hard work dealing with vicarious trauma, because I've been trying- and failing. Dealing with and trying to understand vicarious trauma is difficult, just as the work that it stems from is gut-wrenchingly hard. I am a domestic violence advocate in Portland, OR. I have a job I adore and am honored to do; a job that challenges me, teaches me, moves me on a daily basis. I get to meet the most amazing people in my work; both the survivors I work with, and my coworkers- who are the most varied, kind and incredible group of women. I would like to be consistently grateful for all that. Instead, I am often exhausted, drained, uninspired, sad, namely- depleted.

My best friend introduced me to vicarious trauma when she was doing Teach For America in the most deprived of school systems in New Orleans, LA. It was with a kind of reverence, or more so desperation, that she told me about a book, "Trauma Stewardship" by Laura Van der noot Lipsky. Her book is the single most compelling and validating piece of literature I've found on this topic. At that time, I could see the affects on my friend, always so much easier then recognizing them in ourselves. She was doing an extraordinary job teaching her students, and her so recently a student herself, and- she was being set up to fail. She was throwing all of herself into generations of trauma, and her light was dimmed.

I missed my friend. I hardly heard from her, and when I did, that passion, conviction, and sass that I love about her was absent. I hated what this greater cause was doing to one person, this individual I love so dearly. I felt like no larger change was being accomplished, and that it was essentially destroying yet another individual. The good news (I hope) is that healing is possible (I'm told). She is now thriving in a much more manageable position in the bay area. She still works with youth, but in an agency that recognizes burnout, that values connection, smaller caseloads and a team-based approach, and that provides comprehensive coverage for therapy, acupuncture and other healing bodywork. They hold trainings on vicarious trauma. She told me recently about something she learned: that for ever act or experience that impacts us traumatically (witnessing another's pain, systems failures, etc.) we need to do a protective or healing action. This helpful tidbit made my stomach sink. It seemed impossible to me. It made sense, but every traumatic incident? I have to respond with a protective, healing, inspired attempt to EVERY incident? I can easily meet two dozen survivors of domestic violence in a week. There are women I work with for hours on a restraining order or accompany to court, who call me the next day, and I cannot recall their story. There are also stories I cannot get free from.

When the issue you're working with is overwhelming, and the trauma you're witnessing is numberless, how can we at the end of the day be able to truly take the care that we need to? How do we find the energy to care for ourselves with the same passion with which we care about and strive to support others? How come doing the healthy things you know you need to do seem like the very last thing you want to do, especially when you need them the most?

This project is my response to these questions. I've been searching for a tool like this, and I haven't found it, so I guess it is mine to create. I've put off starting this project for months. I've mulled it over with friends, I've composed entries in my head, but I felt intimidated to start. And, let's face it, creativity is the first thing to go when I'm feeling especially impacted, so I was stuck in this catch-22, of, "yikes, something's gotta give" while simultaneously mired in secondary trauma. The thing is, even having written this small beginning feels a little better. I feel a bit more myself. And a bit more hopeful, and that after all is the point of all this work.