Let Go or Be Dragged

We get up.

We brush our teeth.

We have breakfast.

We feed the kids and have coffee with our spouse.

We head to work, maybe thinking about clients, though never thinking that our world might change that day.

This is a glimpse into how one day my world did change. In fact, how my world shifted on its axis.

Over the course of the past 270+ episodes of the podcast, my guests have shared an incredible amount of knowledge and inspiration.

Each day I wonder how much has sunk into me and what I’ve learned.

Two years ago now, I realized that at least a little bit had!

Today I’d like to share a personal story with you about how one of these slices of inspiration I’ve taken from these interviews has impacted my life as a then therapist (I no longer see clients), a husband, a son, and as a father.

It ‘aint pretty, as the saying goes. But it is real.

I’ve been very fortunate that many of the field’s most well-known individuals have been interviewed on the podcast and have shared their journey and expertise:

Gabor Mate
Pat Ogden
Dan Siegel
and Bruce Perry

To name only a few.

But there have also been lesser-known, though arguably equally seasoned, knowledgeable and inspiring practitioners on the podcast, as well as on Trauma Therapist | 2.0, who have offered their passion and inspiration:

Peter Bernstein
Deb Del Vecchio-Scully
Kimber Olson
Christine Forner
and Manuela Mischke-Reeds

again, to highlight just a few.

Certain themes have emerged throughout these interviews.

One of the most significant themes in terms of both the number of times it’s come up, as well as the degree to which it’s influenced and impacted my guests’ growth as clinicians, has been the pivotal role of the therapist’s self-awareness, or more specifically–

One's ability as a therapist to be willing to cultivate and maintain a degree of self-awareness and self-exploration.

Why is this so important?

Because without it trauma workers are held captive and at the mercy of their own…stuff.

One's own fears, biases, traumas, prejudices, etc, and all of which can easily go unnoticed until trauma workers become triggered in session.

And it’s bound to happen. We’re all human, after all.

So here’s where it gets personal:

Two years ago, while I was working at a clinic here in Northern California, I received a phone call from my sister informing me that our mother had died.

Her passing was unexpected and sudden.

I was very close to my mother and loved her dearly.

This news, as you could image, was devastating.

The week following was a blur of sadness, disbelief, and the sense that my world and myself had come unhinged.

Obviously, people handle these situations in their own way.

For me, I became numb.

Working in a clinic where I saw adolescents both individually and in groups, I couldn’t even think about going to work.

I took a week off.

I even canceled interviews for the podcast.

Actually, I thought I could continue with interviewing though I was forced to cancel some interviews at the last minute.

I felt awful and unprofessional.

Six months or so earlier, based on the work I’d been doing with the podcast, I was invited to present at the ISSTD Annual Conference. An incredible honor and a privilege and something I’d been looking forward to.

A week before I was set to present, I had to cancel this as well.

This served to compound my feelings of dread and unprofessionalism.

Irrational? Perhaps. Of course.

Yet nearly impossible to escape from at the time.

After that week away from work, though I wasn’t feeling 100%, I decided that going back would be a welcomed distraction. I needed to get out of the house and just be around other people.

Once at work however, I wasn't able to focus. Who was I kidding?

I remember being in session with a young client who began talking about one of her own family members who had recently died.

It was at that moment that I found out what being triggered feels like.

I experienced a tsunami rush up from my feet, to me legs, up through my stomach, across my chest and into my face.

In fact, as I'm writing, I can feel the vestiges of it now.

Right then, I could feel myself internalizing the words and inspiration of so many of my interview guests on this very topic of the importance of our own self-awareness.

It was as if the wisdom that they had shared came rushing through me. Or rather, that right at that moment I was able to hear and absorb their words in a way I couldn't before.

At that moment, it felt like this was something I desperately needed to do.

I could feel myself listening to my body and my body shouting at me to stop. Doing. Anything. Just stop.

I could feel myself being conscious of the anxiety and fear and the sadness swirling around in my being, and then so clearly realizing that I needed to take care of myself–as a therapist, a husband, a father, and as a son who had just lost his mother.

I wasn't a seasoned clinician at that time in the way that my guests were. I hadn't been practicing for decades. In fact, I began the podcast to learn from such people and to help inspire those looking to get into the field.

That day, I found myself needing to heed this lesson, that of the importance of maintaining a level of self-awareness, that so many of my guests have shared.

That day I didn’t have a choice.

It reminds me of the zen proverb:

Let go or be dragged

That day I was definitely dragged.

I needed to be.

And I’m thankful for it.

I’m not thankful for how all of this came about, obviously.

Time has passed which has allowed me to write these words. Barely.

That lesson, though, remains with me today.

In fact, cultivating self-awareness and honoring one's self and our uniquie story, and realizing the significance of these things within the context of starting out on one's trauma-informed journey, is what my work is all about.

Listening to myself, I feel has made me a better, more patient, confident and compassionate person.

Not perfect.

But a little better.

Guy