Healing from Trauma is a Developmental Process

To explorers in general and mountaineers in particular it is a well-known fact that each successive attempt at the solving of a problem makes that problem easier of solution. Few great mountains have been climbed, a few passes crossed, at first, second, or even third essay.
— Eric Shipton & H.W. Tilman, Nandi Devi

Healing from trauma is typically described as a process of steps, but not necessarily developmental steps. I believe that the primary reason that healing from trauma has not been discussed in developmental terms is that there is a fear that it will make it sound like a long term process (which no one wants to hear) and it will make the people going through the process feel like they are being called “babies or children.” Both are reasonable concerns, but I think there is so much to be gained from understanding healing from trauma as a developmental process.

The first benefit if we can locate healing from trauma in a developmental frame, is that we have at our disposal decades of developmental research and theory to support us in this journey. There exists a consistent, yet somewhat malleable process of growth that organisms follow from the smallest cell to the largest community.

What I have noticed in twenty years of working with adolescents and adults who have experienced trauma, or who are in need of treatment, is that the standard protocol of treatment often starts ahead of where they actually are in a developmental sense. I worked for many years in residential treatment facilities and hospital adolescent inpatient units, and the standard treatment in these programs is cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT). For the record, let me state that I have nothing against cognitive behavior therapy, and consider it, at the appropriate times, to be a very successful form of treatment. I believe, however, that the ‘evidence-based’ research in treatment is skewed toward CBT because it is the most easily researched—it follows a routine protocol and is often time limited.

As someone who has spent a lot of time in graduate school I can attest to the fact that the things that get researched the most are the things that can get researched in shortest period of time. Graduate students want to graduate, and they want to graduate as quickly as possible. They drive a lot of the research that gets done in academia. So, while what gets promoted as ‘evidence-based’ does mean that there is evidence that it works, but it’s often what has worked in a time-limited framework. I have always wondered what ‘evidence-based’ parenting would look like.

On the inpatient or lock-up units, the teens were required to state why they misbehaved, what feelings triggered the episode, and what they could do differently in the future. What became apparent is that the teenagers really couldn’t do this task: what they learned to do was parrot answers that they heard other kids say, or that the staff gave them. They would state, “I was angry and so I ran away. Next time I will talk to staff or a peer.”

This all sounds reasonable except that these kids didn’t actually know what they were feeling, and they didn’t trust anyone enough yet to talk to them when they are upset, so the solution was not yet a possibility. This is the developmental equivalent of expecting a toddler to type an apology note for his last tantrum. Because we get literal about developmental stages, and get hung up on their chronological age, rather than their developmental age, we ask the impossible from people who are trying to heal.

What the kids on the unit needed to realize was that they were cut off from their feelings. When the adults on the unit asked them what they were feeling, quite often they said “nothing.” This actually was the accurate answer—and it would have been a better starting point of honesty than trying to tell them what they were feeling and have them repeat it.

What is difficult about this discussion is the problem of definition or labels. In fact, I think that this alone has kept us from meeting people where they are. Fearing the implication that they are ‘behind’ or ‘young’ or ‘delayed’ we treated them like ‘adults’ with a standard of treatment and an expectation of recovery-- and everyone acts as though this will work. In therapy the client will engage dutifully and complete the sentences and say what they are supposed to say—but it isn’t actually connected to where they are so they aren’t learning about themselves. Then, when a stressor hits, they revert to what they always do because the ‘new learning’ hasn’t made any real connection.  And everyone is frustrated—therapist, client and the people who live with the client.

Our American ideals of equality probably hinder us in our ability to discuss developmental difference. We tolerate it with skill level. We have all sorts of assessment tests for various activities that test our skill level: beginner French, intermediate piano, or advanced algebra. No one likes being in the lower skill level, but we also know we can’t just jump in to algebra if we haven’t learned fractions.

We have compassion and understanding for the types of brain injuries that wipe the slate clean altogether—for stroke patients who lose the ability to speak or to walk. No one expects them to leap out of bed, or begin speaking in full sentences. When the damage to the brain, and the emotional systems is less obvious, or when the trauma interfered with how the brain developed over time, then we have no current way to understand the problem, and no easy way to  ‘let the person off the developmental hook.’ It is a reasonable question to ask how one would make a developmental diagnosis, or who would be in charge of doing it, and of course, what would it mean if someone did.

In a very real way we understand the damage a stroke does to a brain—and we can quantify it and name it—damage to the language or motor centers. But neuroscience research is now letting us see the damage that trauma can inflict—it can shrink the hippocampus, the center of memory, and it can shrink parts of the limbic system, center of attachment, and create lesions in the the amygdala, the fear and warning center. These are only some of the brain centers affected by trauma and they need time and new learning to heal. The brain must re-develop capacity.

Part of the problem lies in language—as development is growth over time, and to be further back in development makes one ‘younger’ or ‘immature.’ We simply don’t yet have language for this problem. In the language of countries, we have language for ‘developing nations’ that has nothing to do with the chronological age of the nation. Cambodia is a third world country, and a developing nation, and the United States is a first world country and a developed nation despite the fact that the Khmer civilization had temples and irrigation canals and libraries and science centuries before the United States or Europe had any of these things. In the taxonomy of countries, we assess based on economy and resources and label the country accordingly.

When we think of development we most often think of cognitive development in its most obvious forms: speech, learning, intelligence. When we have mastered the basic elements of development: standing, walking, talking, reading, school, driving, working—we feel like we have moved ahead.

We have no common language or understanding of emotional development or cognitive development in the mean-making, or understanding sense.  My motivation to write this blog in language that clients can understand, rather just for therapists is an attempt to jump over the need for someone else to tell you your developmental level—but instead to give you some understanding and compassion and information and help you state where you think you are starting this journey of healing. What are your capacities, and where are your deficits? Where are you starting? What do you need?

© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD 2015

 

Mindful Monday: Mindful Goodbyes.

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard
— A. A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

For the fun of it, since the last Monday Mindfulness was on Hello, I thought I would swing to the other side and look at Mindful Goodbyes. How to close the loop, finish the conversation, move to the next task or interaction with gratitude.

I joked not long ago that the four most difficult words in the English language were Yes and No, Hello and Goodbye. They are the words of boundaries, of approach and avoid and attachment and separation. All tasks which we work on our whole lives long.

So why a mindful goodbye? A mindful goodbye allows you to actually be present to where you are and what you have done. Often, we do things or we talk to people and we are so busy moving on to the next task or the next sentence or the next interaction that we actually haven’t finished the one that we are in. We haven't actually listened. We haven't actually experienced. 

When we don’t say goodbye to the task or the person we don’t get to take it in—we don’t get to feel its impact. We don’t get to be grateful for the action, the completion, the presence. Saying goodbye and attending to completion contributes to sturdiness. It’s contributes to solidity. Imagine if the builders of skyscrapers just bolted the beams in place and moved on. Decided not to bother with the whole welding thing. Finish the action you are in. Your learning, your experience and your well-being will be more solid.

One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was from my friend Donna who told me that when I finish something, like the dishes, or cleaning my desk, or raking the leaves—that I should stop, and take a full minute to look at the completed task. Take in that it was done, feel good about how it looked and pat myself on the back. A little self-gratitude can go a long way. Normally I would race through tasks and feel like “I got nothing done.” I never had a sense of completion or accomplishment, despite the crossed off to do list. But the simple act of staying with the end, instead of moving to the next beginning really shifted that experience. So go ahead--look around at what you completed, take a bow, have your own private standing ovation.

Stay with the end. This might be as radical as actually saying, “Goodbye” instead of just ducking out. And like we discussed with hello, say goodbye and wait for the response. Say goodbye and say or think something that you were grateful for in the interaction. As you are walking away think about what you are taking with you from the conversation. What you are taking with you on your journey and then breathe and be where you are.

Learning to say goodbye and stay with the end are great ways to build muscles for the bigger goodbyes that happen all throughout life. They are the musical scales of loss and expansion and growth. They allow us to feel our edges, where we begin and end, that helps us understand how we belong and how we understand ourselves.

For people who have experienced significant or traumatic loss even small good byes can be painful. Even small goodbyes can trigger the feelings of loss you once felt. It’s okay. Small tiny goodbyes can help you mend those torn muscles and rebuild them. Small tiny goodbyes. Goodbye to that phone call. Goodbye to that project. Goodbye to the grocery shopping for this week. The small goodbyes, really experiencing them, helps us remember that feelings can hurt but they aren't fatal. It reminds us of our resilience. We can feel our legs again. Start as small as you need to. Some traditions have you start with your breath. Breath in: Hello, Breathe out: Goodbye. You can practice small goodbyes with each breath.

Of course it’s a circle this goodbye and hello thing. Say goodbye to the task you just completed, to the person you were just talking to, and then notice what happens when you come to the next task and the next person. What is your hello like? Follow the circle. Hello. Goodbye. Hello. Or as the Italians would say, Ciao! Ciao! Ciao!

© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD 2015

 

Treasure in the ruins: Lessons from Cambodia

Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure.
— Rumi

If you are travelling to Cambodia everyone asks you the same question, “Are you going to the temples at Angkor Wat?” When we first started to work with leaders in Cambodia we soon found out that many of the Cambodians themselves had not even visited the temples of Angkor Wat. Angkor Wat is the largest religious monument in the world. It was built by King Jayavarman II in the early 12th century, and it encompasses Hindu and Buddhist traditions. While Europe was in the grips of the dark ages, Cambodia was building a temple complex that had irrigation and libraries.

The leaders we were working with in 2003 through the UNDP and the NAA had not visited the temples primarily because of the Khmer Rouge war -- actually the area was still a site of armed conflict in the late 90’s. The temples had been cut off from them—by armed guerrillas, by landmines, by lack of passable road, by sheer lack of capacity to travel.

My colleague Fran decided that as part of the leadership development program they would go, and explore their history and their history of leadership. Going to the temples would give them a means of restoring a sense of inspiration and vision about their country,  and connect them to the aspects of their history and culture that was thoughtful, beautiful and strong. Hidden in the ruins were sources of strength for the Khmer** culture. It was a powerful trip and many of the participants talked about how important it was to them to have been able to go. Over the years they have returned with their families.

To find the treasure you have to head into the ruins. In some ways in those first couple of years of working in Cambodia, the war was an unspoken presence. The full stories had not yet been told, but the trips to Angkor Wat were a way to have some of the story present. Not the story of what happened to them during the war, that is what most of us think of when we think of trauma. We think of what happened. And that is a big part of the experience of any trauma survivor. But it is not all of the experience.

Repeated trauma is always three forms of trauma: what did happen, the protections you create to survive, and what didn’t happen. It would be years before we would hear stories about what did happen, but the trip to Angkor Wat would allow for some of the conversation about what didn’t happen—and allow them to begin to expand their ideas and possibilities for themselves as individuals and as leaders.

Our temples are not as tangible or beautiful as Angkor Wat. When we experience difficult days, or meltdowns, or deep grief, or wild panic, we don’t see our experience as temple ruins. We don’t realize that instead of running away from or denying those feelings, we need to paradoxically head toward them. Visit them. Explore them. Honor them. It took a lot of courage for my Cambodian colleagues to visit those temples after so many years. And it will take courage from you as well.

Our ruins many not be easy to find, but it's worth the search. They are the parts of ourselves that have been hidden for so long. They survived for years in a war zone. They may need repair. They may need to be deforested from all that has grown over to cover them. But they hold beautiful aspects of ourselves. And they deserve our time. And they deserve our patience and they deserve our reverence.

Those difficult feelings? Ruins. Those struggles? Ruins. Your grief? Ruins. Head in. Keep struggling. Keep feelings. Walk around. Sit down and journal. Look around and be amazed at what survived. What is there after all of these years. Let yourself be amazed at what is there. It will come in flashes. In small views. It's hard to take in all at once. The treasure isn't something small, though there may be small things that you appreciate. Take it all in. Get the wider view. Then you may begin to take in the treasure..

**Note: People in the West often mistake the word Khmer to mean Khmer Rouge—but this is not the case. The word Khmer is the name of the primary ethnic group of Cambodia and is also the language of the Cambodia. The Khmer Rouge were the followers of the communist party of Cambodia, founded in 1968. It was an offshoot of the North Vietnamese People’s Army. 

To virtually visit the temples at Angkor Wat you can look at them on google street view here

To read more about our work in Cambodia and other UNDP projects you can read about them here.

© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD 2015

A great circle.

The Power of the World always works in circles, and everything tries to be round..... The Sky is round, and I have heard 
that the earth is round like a ball, and so are 
all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power, whirls. Birds make their nest in circles, for 
theirs is the same religion as ours.... Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from 
childhood to childhood, and so it is in 
everything where power moves.
— Black Elk

I am not a very tidy gardener. That’s a nice way of saying my garden is often a wild mess. To be fair, I really do love the gardens that are more on the wild side, with lot of flowers, filling up every available space, but it can get out of control. About five years ago when I had some moving guys come to help me move furniture in a week when I hadn’t gotten to mow the lawn for a while because of rain, one of the moving guys looked around the yard and said, “Is that the look you are going for?”

When I first began gardening I pored over English Garden books and I wanted to emulate those massive perennial beds. But I forgot two things. I don’t live in England, and I don’t have a gardener.

And, to make matters even messier I had woodchuck issues with my backyard vegetable garden so I moved all my vegetables into my front flower garden. So it is now is a riot of flowers, and vines and vegetables. And I travel for work. So, I manage to get it in in the spring, and maybe weeded once. And that’s it. The garden is off and running and so am I. I basically don’t touch it again until I start over again in the spring.

But not being tidy had its benefits this week. We had a huge snowstorm and all of the seedheads of my flowers and vines and shrubs which looked awful and messy before the storm were all that you could see after the storm. And while I shoveled, my garden was visited constantly by Sparrows and Junkos and Chickadees. What I called messy, they called lunch.

I can waste a lot of energy on garden shame. Worrying that I really should do something about it. I can waste a lot of time on shame period. But yesterday was such a clear of example of how that kind of judgment is so misplaced. Watching those birds yesterday made me think that worrying about how things look would have been the wrong decision by a mile for those birds.

Healing doesn’t happen in a linear form. It happens in cycles the way our year happens in seasons. The parts of the cycle of healing are as interconnected as our seasons. You heal as much as you can and you move to another part of the cycle and you leave some things behind because you are pulled to the next phase of healing, and you leave some things behind because you aren’t ready yet to work with them yet. Both are always true.

And really, it’s all there all the time. It’s just that your attention has moved from one thing to another. The things you still need to work on can be out of your attention, but so can your strengths that you used to work on those things. And then something triggers your attention and you find them again, the way the birds found the flower seeds in the middle of winter. And what about the things you can’t see right now, even if you search? They are still there. The snow has covered everything else but the tops of the flowers, but the roots and bulbs are still there. They are being nourished and fed by this season. And they will bloom in their own. 

© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD 2015