How to Respond to Someone Else's Trauma, According to A Certain Expert (Named Sandy)

Trauma.

My working definition, based solely on personal experience and not remotely on the mental health literature is this:

A trauma is an event that is so shocking or enormous or strongly emotional that it cannot be fully processed in the instant the event happens, or even in the moments or days immediately following. Instead, the response to the trauma becomes stored in the body, perhaps partially or even completely unprocessed, and it will live there, like an open wound, however buried it might seem, until it is excavated and healed.

In physical terms imagine it this way. A trauma-free person walks down the street. If they step in a puddle, their skin repels the water. It's not a big deal. A traumatized person steps into the same puddle. They now have bacteria, grime and water infecting their insides. There was no skin to protect them. They could actually get really sick.

However, with trauma, puddles are not always clearly labeled. It might not be obvious to a friend for example, that Popsicles are a reminder of being left at a fair as a child. I do understand that. Stored trauma is tricky.

But I can tell you one thing that is pretty obvious.

Asking someone specifically about an event which was probably traumatizing has a high likelihood of exposing a wound. It is highly likely to bring up feelings and intensity that the person may not be equipped or ready to process.

That is not a puddle in the street. That is like spraying someone with a hose and then asking if they got wet.

This topic came up this week because I told my therapist I was afraid of going out in public anymore with Bandit because he elicits so many intrusive and disturbing responses from people. I've been asked if I've thought about "snipping" his bad leg off. I've been told I don't know how to take care of him, or how to better take care of him. Last week, someone used the word "lame" in describing him, and by the time she was done demanding I explain to her how he became "lame," I was standing up and walking away.


I cannot tell you how many people have asked for gory re-tellings of how my dog got hit or how my brother died.

The truth is that not a single time that I retold either of those stories did I want to.

Not a single time.

Not ever.

It was astonishing to me how many people thought their need-to-know was so important they failed to consider the very real possibility that maybe I didn't want to review where the bullet entered my brother's head. Because, whoever you are, whoever at all, you were less affected than I was. Anyone equally or more affected already had that information.



More than once I stood frozen, literally unable to imagine how to begin to respond. And many times, I simply took a deep breath and gave the shortest description I could. And then tried to veer the conversation away, confused about why "he was hit by a car" was not, for the love of god, enough.

I admire this vet who has PTSD, and when kicked out of a restaurant with his service dog actually called the police and got them involved. I do admire him for defending his right to heal his traumas and still co-exist with the rest of humanity. But I wonder where he got the energy.

I'm sure there are all kinds of clever, snarky things to say to strangers on the street when I am with Bandit. I'm sure I could bring him with me everywhere and just take them all on. But what tremendous exertion that would require from me. Everywhere I bring him is an opportunity for someone to bring up one or more traumas I am still working through. Whether it is his accident, or why I am a crazy woman thinking she can just bring her dog everywhere.

I am not brave enough to look someone in the eye and say that I need him. Nor can I withstand incessantly recounting the brutality of the unmoving shattered bones I found in the street.

So I often choose to stay home with him instead.

We don't talk about the accident.

***

I remind myself that maybe not everyone has experienced serious trauma, so they don't understand. They don't understand that probing into this pretty heavy stuff is not actually healing. Or perhaps they have never even thought about it. I go to a therapist for healing. And for the record, she never asks me to share anything. The other independent therapists who share the waiting room have never once asked me why Bandit is there. Or why he has a diaper on. Or what is wrong with him. Or what is wrong with me.

But then, therapists are trained in these things. And most people are not. No matter how curious they are about me or Bandit, they have never asked. And I feel safe, knowing they probably never will. Though if I decided to share, I imagine they would be kind.

I wish everywhere was like that.

***
This post seems silly to me, like I shouldn't have to say any of this. But based on my experiences from the last year: I clearly do. 

When you're talking to someone who is traumatized, it is not your job to get the scoop, hear the story first, or have all the answers. It is your job to be aware of how it's making you feel as a bystander. And maybe you're feeling pretty uncomfortable, because hearing about something scary is scary. Maybe you are dying to know, because it is like an accident in the road or reality TV. But it is your job to pay attention to that and not let it override being compassionate.

It's not that all people in trauma need the same things. But it is important to give people the space to indicate what they need, on their terms, because you are dealing with someone who is profoundly hurt, no matter how funny their jokes are, or how put-together their outfit. You can always offer to listen, without demanding answers. You can always offer your presence, without imposing it. I'm not suggesting people stand in a corner and ignore someone who has gone through something big. I'm just suggesting people be thoughtful about how they engage.

I share a lot about my life. I really do. But there's also a lot I don't say. Because that's my choice. I appreciate the people who don't put the burden on me of saying "you know, that's really none of your business." Because I don't think a traumatized person should have any extra burdens. Nor should I have to worry about hurting your feelings because you are not respecting my own humanity.

So I am sharing some unsolicited advice here, as someone who has gone through at least three major life-changing events this year that were each separately and cumulatively traumatizing. If you want to ask about my dog? Ask what breed he is. Ask if it's ok to pet him. Tell me he looks cute. If you want to ask about my family? Ask how my family is doing. Ask if I'm going home for the holidays. If you want to ask about me? Just ask how I'm doing. How work is going.

That pretty much covers it.

And let me not talk about the things I don't want to talk about.

Most days, I am perfectly happy to explain exactly the status of Bandit's fecal incontinence. You might even have a hard time stopping me from excitedly sharing a new development. Actually, this has probably happened to most of you.

But there are other days when he has woken me up repeatedly throughout the night, and I am exhausted, and feeling like this has gone on a really, really long time and I wonder if it will go on forever. Mentally, I go back to those first weeks out of the hospital when I worried I had made a terrible decision to give my dog a life that was unsustainable for both of us.

Honestly, I don't want to talk about how my dog is still in diapers on those days.

I am still learning how to cope with this really enormous change in my life.

I'm not suggesting people walk on eggshells around anyone who has ever been through something tough, I'm just saying, for example: Hey, you can ask how Bandit is. And let me either say 'He's fine.' or 'Oh my gosh he did this amazing new thing today!!' and we can go from there. Maybe 'he's fine' is enough for me today.

Maybe asking me to say more is going to be really distressing for me.

Because my dog almost died a few months ago.

And he's kind of important to me.

***

I suspect for all kinds of unpleasant things, people can relate on some level.

Who wants Facebook to post that they broke up? Because some idiot will post "OMG What happened?!?!"

Here's a tip: If you don't already know what happened, there is probably a reason. Like, maybe the person who is feeling sad/hurt/confused/angry etc. didn't want to tell you. At least not yet.

And That Is Okay. 

If you are not Okay with that, ask yourself why not. Maybe there is something there to explore.

***

At the end of the day, I know that most people mean well.

When I used to volunteer at the Orange Country Rape Crisis Center, I meant well when I got angry that we didn't report all rapes to the police. I meant well when I thought everyone who called in should get a rape kit done. I meant well when I wanted every caller to expose the name of their rapist. I just hadn't processed how other women getting raped was deeply distressing to me, and as a way to make sense of my anger, I wanted to engage with the criminal justice system in a very specific way that would alleviate my distress.

I didn't really think through how maybe someone who had been violated should be treated as a fully competent person who could make decisions, good decisions, for herself, because maybe she was already doubting herself in pretty profound ways. Maybe what I thought about her rape didn't matter as much as what she thought. I didn't think through how pushing a woman to do or share something she wasn't comfortable with was very likely to trigger her into reliving another pretty salient event in her life where she also was pushed into doing something she wasn't comfortable with.

That would be like spraying someone with a fire hose. 

Fortunately for all of those women (and my conscience), I was only a translator, and I never actually said any of these things out loud to anyone who was a victim of rape. And the center didn't allow us to give advice. We listened, we validated what people said, and if they asked for support, we gave it to them. We would give out information about resources if asked, but otherwise not. We would accompany people to the police station or hospital if asked, otherwise we never mentioned it. Because, through our communications with them, we were modeling that they were whole people, and that we respected them and their decisions. In that way, we supported their healing. Anything else might have increased the prosecution of rapes in the state of North Carolina (though I doubt it), but at the expense of the very people we were trying to help.

And I can assure you, we never called up a single person and asked them to recount their rape.

That is probably an inappropriate course to take in the wake of any trauma, unless you are a police officer called to collect such a story.

So I get the meaning-well thing. I do. But I think we can all do better than that.

I think better than Meaning Well is realizing that validating someone who is walking around with one of these trauma-holes is one of the most powerful things you can do. And validating them involves three simple things:

1. Listening to what they say.
2. Agreeing or repeating the statements that are important to them "I hear that that was really upsetting to you." (This is the most simplistic form of validation I can describe. Also: never tell them what they are feeling is "wrong" or "unreasonable"). 
3. Never giving advice unless it's asked for, and even then, first evaluating whether the advice is something you can give, i.e.: "which vet do you like better?" or advice you really, really cannot: "should I save my dog's life?" In the latter case, it is your job to tell the person that whatever decision they make is the best one for them. And that you'll support them either way. You do not have the answer to that question.

Once you get the hang of it, it's not that hard. It's not a big deal. There is no walking on eggshells. And in the process, you will probably learn a lot more than if you forced a confession, because the person you're talking to will probably appreciate that you're treating them like a person, rather than a sideshow. Though maybe they won't tell you a damn thing.

And That Is Okay.

***

In the meantime, I am learning how to say "It's very complicated." Because sometimes when people invalidate me, I get caught up in that. I freeze. I don't defend myself, or my right to not share deeply upsetting things with complete strangers. Part of that is my unwillingness to lash out. I don't believe making them feel bad in return is really an answer

For now, sometimes just not responding at all is the best I can do. 

Because you know what?

It's really, very complicated.

And That Is Okay Too.

Namaste.