Some are stories that help to understand real life impacts of that career and vicarious trauma.  Some stories are just that.  Stories of pivotal moments in that career that propelled me to continue the work even when it seemed impossible.  This is story number six.

I worked in this field a really long time before my husband and I had our son.  I had worked in this field a really long time before I even got married.  Both of those events changed how I was able to manage to continue in this field.

I can pin point two really specific events after my son was born that totally changed not just how I thought about things but really changed my approach to this work and how I interact with and supervise staff.  I didn’t know it then but it would become part of the frame work that would build my leadership philosophy.

The first was about a week after I returned to work after my maternity leave.  I was a Program Manager and a Forensic Interviewer.  It would have been like any other day.  I was busy.  While people had “warned” me that everything would change after my son was born.  I had never really considered the depth of what that meant.  I knew about the no sleep, no alone time, and even had considered how it might change my husband’s and my relationship.  But I had never considered how vicarious trauma would creep in and impact who I was.  The first clue happened while I was doing an interview.  It came not in waves but in one strong sucker punch.  It was totally unexpected.  And it almost brought me to my knees.  It was not the first interview I had done after I had returned to work but it was the first interview of a boy that I had conducted.  He was about 4.  He had dark hair and a fair complexion like my son.  I was interviewing him about sexual abuse.  We were through most of the interview and I was just gathering details of his experience when suddenly my vision started to narrow.  I focused on his face and what he was saying and continued to prompt for more information.  In my mind I was not interviewing a stranger.  I began to hear what I thought my son’s voice would sound like. It was the most bizarre experience I had up to that point in my life.   I somehow made it through that interview and was able to wrap up.  I ducked my head into the room where the law enforcement detective was watching to let him know I would be back in a second for the wrap up.  I walked the child back to his parent.  I went straight to the bathroom and pulled myself together.  Refocused. Stared in the mirror at myself. It felt like I was there forever but it must have only been a minute or two.  We finished our post interview wrap up, met with the mom and made plans for next steps.  It never happened again but that interview was one of the most difficult interviews I have ever completed.  It didn’t go to court.  The child’s disclosure was strong and the offender took a plea.  I have never even told anyone about what happened that day except in passing and only to say it was hard to interview after being gone for two months.  However, this experience for sure was with me every day for the rest of my time as an interviewer.  It also helped me to be able to empathize with several interviewers who I supervised later who were struggling with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder triggers.

The second event was later when my son was two and half and toddling.  We lived in a house with rustic “cabin” wood stairs that went to the basement.  We had gates up but he and I were sitting on the stair case playing with dinosaurs. We had been practicing walking down the stairs. We got up to get a snack.  I stood up and turned around and down the stairs he tumbled.  He got a cut above his eye. Now that scar is covered by his eyebrows.  He cried so much and there was so much blood coming out of that ½ inch cut.  I was panicked.  I called a friend.  She was one of the forensic nurses that worked with me.  She could hear my distress and assured me she was on her way.  She brought her husband who was with the fire department.  While they were on their way over, my son had cried himself to sleep.  I immediately woke him up as I was certain he had a head injury. He began screaming again. They looked him over.  He smiled at them and laughed. He was being adorable. He was totally fine.  They put a little medical tape over the cut to help it closed.  Both had years of experience providing emergency medical care.  I got physically ill.  I slept with him that night and every night for a week after that.  I watched him closely.  My friend kept telling me kids fall all the time.  He will be fine.  Finally she asked why are you so upset?  I looked at her and said….this is the story we always hear.  She asked me to clarify.  We get a call.  Child is rushed to emergency department. Child rolled off the changing table or down four stairs.  Child has a head injury.  Child dies.  This is the story.  She reminded me that not every child that falls sustains a head injury.  And she reminded me that the stories we hear are generally not the truth.  The child was shook …or thrown.  They did not fall down four steps.   I cried every time I looked at that tape over his eye.  We have tons of pictures with that tape on his eye.  It was Halloween week.  That year, he was Superman with medical tape over this eye.  My eyes still tear up when I see those pictures. I can also laugh with my nurse friend Val and her husband Jeff at how crazy I was and that they needed to take care of me more than my son.   In fact, we just reminisced about this in our last phone call.

I tell those stories to show that vicarious trauma is going to hit you if you work in a field that intervenes in trauma.  It isn’t an if question.  It is a when question.  You can be prepared.  You can recognize it in others.  You can have vast knowledge in trauma and its impact. You may still have a harder time in the middle of it recognizing it in yourself.  Listen to others who may try to guide you.  Do not brush it off.  If you don’t at least identify it and have a plan in place to deal with it, it will only lead to more frequent episodes. It doesn’t mean you are weak.  It doesn’t mean you are not good at your job.  It doesn’t mean you can’t do this work.  It does mean you are human.

I am pretty sure that people who do not do this work also have “triggers” to things that present as trauma.  Sometime in the last ten to fifteen years in “caring” or “helping” professions there has been more of a focus on taking care of ourselves.  But really we need to extend that to all who experience trauma triggers—both those traumas that happen to us and those we experience vicariously.  Trauma is all around us.  We bump into people every day who are triggered by trauma.  I have been lucky enough to have always surrounded myself by people who understood my “bad” behavior is mostly attached to the stories I hear and to my own personal traumas. I say bad behavior as it can sometime look like behavior that is not generally acceptable. (You see them in the grocery story…yelling at some poor employee who happened to be in their path because they do not have the right brand of peanut butter or that person that is rude to you for no reason—you know what I am talking about, right?) I try to pay that “grace” that was extended to me forward.  In COVID, I have begun to realize that most of us are not good at taking care of ourselves and finding a work-life balance.  Particularly those who work in the helping professions.  I had a friend that reminded me recently, that we need to put on our oxygen masks first or we are useless to others because we have no air left to give.

The next natural question is how do you strike that balance?  I can’t answer that question for you, only myself.  It is intensely personal.  What works for one does not work for all.  I find myself doing breathing exercises more during the day.  (My smart watch reminds me to—I would probably forget otherwise). I close my door and infuse the air with my favorite essential oil.  I eat dinner with my family.  I have coffee or lunch with my friends as often as I can.  I have a dog that helps me on a particularly bad day.  I get up and move around.  Sometimes I play Cookie Jam on my phone or when the weather is right I take a hike or walk with my son.  Small things every day help in the overall big picture.  Every day it becomes easier and easier.  What are you doing to take care of yourself?