Another time where in the course of my work I encounter a human who has been horribly used, watch that their pain become dependence on chemicals, and morph into hurting others like they were hurt, and end up on the morning news.
Six times in the past 15 years I've watched my clients' stories play on tv at home. Not figuratively: these are my actual clients. Violent rape, sex abuse of children, addiction, ADHD child runs into traffic & killed, 13 yo murdered by a john, 17 year old shot and killed by a 13 year old in "gang" violence. I see a picture or the announcer says a name and think "I know that person, that place, wait, what?" There's no training for this experience in graduate school.
One died on the street I lived on at the time. I began working with her when I was pregnant with Claire. When I came back from maternity leave I gave her a tiny baby picture of Claire so she could see her- she had addicts in her life who came and went. Her grandparents worked with me to give her predictability and security. When I went on maternity leave we put it on her calendar, when I came back I wanted her to see what I had been doing. She slept with that little picture under her pillow. She was a success story and graduated from therapy. She found her place at home in a loving environment and at a school with the right people. She was thriving. Her little body in that casket was the first I'd ever seen. Her name was the same as my sister's.
That name on the news that morning.
Every one who works with addicts, criminals, or victims lives these stories. Law enforcers, probation officers, counselors, social workers, children's case managers, child protective service workers, teachers, doctors, foster parents. Every one does their work like this. Accepting frailty, opening their self to the possibility of betrayal. Working to make a difference in the face of despair. Sometimes their own. Sometimes that of the agency they represent, or taxpayers, or judges, or ...
Mine can become overwhelming at times, especially when combined with, say, the situation the Middle East. Mine is also linked to the pain, violence, and love in my family of origin. Sometimes it ends up looking like depression and I'm in bed 20 hours again.
I haven't personally known therapists with so many clients that show up on the news. That part is something weird. It makes it graphic, sensational. Extreme, "newsworthy" without any of the human in there. The shock. It feels so urgent, like I'm supposed to DO something. Maybe that's why I'm writing this now.
Also therapy is a confidential relationship. Now watching those things we are bound to keep private, in part or whole being broadcast on the news. It's unnerving. And there are always parts left out. Because real complex people and stories don't make the news.
But everyone who works with damaged people in damaged systems has heard, seen, felt tragedy. Whether it's their client or someone else's on the news they know the drill.
Prosecuting attorneys, therapists who work with little children at the sexual assault centers, ministers who try to minister to the victims AND perpetrators in those situations, teachers who suspect, but don't know for sure. Try to help and support, wondering if they're sending that child home to hell every night, but don't have anything really reportable. The police officers who know their uniform is scary who try to connect anyway, get down on the child's level, use language of respect. The rookie cop taking a report in the 11-year-old's bedroom, searching for words to convey something like safety or hope. The addiction counselor who makes $11.32 an hour, and welcomes, smiling, the same addict for the third time this year. The partners who buy a car wash to give the convicts on their beat a place to work and break the cycle: not a terribly profitable business model.
Then there are the soldiers. Patriots with guilt the size of Texas. Guilt. For the wounds they didn't get but watched. The wounds of morality, their missions? Who did they really serve? Grief on grief, with a topping of futility. And those who command them, and those who listen to their stories and try to help. ? Some in the VA system, enough said. So many in so many ways.
It takes a toll.
I personally know every one of these people, and more. They often carry some sadness, or suspicion, along with a fire in the belly, a fight, tenacity, with a little black humor for good measure. Sometimes they age sooner than they should, they don't sleep or eat or play when they should. They carry stories and feelings too terrible to unload. Because it's the right thing to do.
If you know someone who works with damaged souls (criminals, veterans, addicts, mentally ill, victims) and tries to keep hope alive, consider what they give. Most of them do it at personal expense: financial, relationship, health, lifespan. Most will never talk about it. I'm a little narcissistic with low filters, that's why I do sometimes. But even here I feel a need to point to them instead. The work and daily recovery of energy can be all consuming. They fail, maybe as often as they succeed. They fight against statistics and they fight against doubts, willing something better into existence. One story at a time.
They do it for us because that's what it takes to keep most of us safe most of the time. It's deeply personal, existential warfare, and it often seems pointless. We all count on things being mostly fair, mostly nice. These people pay for that. Take a minute to think and thank them.
