Journey Through Trauma -- The Galleys Are In!!!!

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The galleys of the book are here!! My book, Journey Through Trauma will be released February of 2018 and I wanted to share with you my excitement about it’s coming debut and a bit about how it came to be.

For all the years that I knew her, my grandmother had a yellowed sheet of paper hanging on her refrigerator with the famous quote from Margaret Mead, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” And this book is a result of many groups that I have been a part of—and you, my readers are part of an important group that brought this book to life.

Writing a book about healing from trauma and actually healing from trauma share a very important mantra: never give up. And my motivation for writing this book about healing from trauma was above all—that I had watched people who were very hurt, who had lived through trauma give up. Give up on treatment, give up on relationships, give up on work—and most of all, give up on themselves. For most of my early career I worked with kids and families in the communities in and around Boston—and I watched trauma be passed on from generation to generation. Grandparents who passed it on to the parents who passed it on to their kids. This intergenerational trauma could feel endless and hopeless. I wished that I could find a way to stop all of this trauma--stop it from impacting future generations, and stop it from robbing families and communities of the healthy people they needed. After 15 years, I expanded my work from psychotherapy to consulting and had the opportunity to work on a leadership program in Cambodia with men and women who had lived through the Khmer Rouge and who were working to heal from it—and rebuild their communities and their country. And once again I saw how hard it was to heal from trauma and yet how important it is to understand how trauma impacts your current behavior so that you have an opportunity to work with it and you can understand why healing from it is so difficult and so important.

And at some point the work I was doing as a therapist, and the work I was doing as a consultant in post-conflict countries began to combine with the work I was doing in healing from my own trauma and I began to look at what the process of healing entailed—I began to observe common patterns, stages, processes in all the places where I was working with trauma.

In 2005 on a consulting trip to Italy, I walked around Venice which has shops with beautiful marbled paper—and I bought a small, marbled notebook and took it back to the hotel—and sitting at the bar eating dinner I began to try to make some notes about what I thought the pieces of the trauma puzzle were. I boldly titled the notebook “On Integration” and once I began to make notes, there was really no going back. I had started a book. The book began the way healing begins—you have an inkling of something bigger and you start—and you start with small, fragmented pieces. The early years of the book were about writing notes and observations. Trying to translate the experiences I was having as a therapist, consultant and therapy client. Trying to map the trail I was traveling in all of the domains. The later years of writing were trying to craft these fragments into chapters.

There were many years of writing where it didn’t look like anything at all, let alone a book. And despite its slow progress and the difficulty of weaving it all together, I never gave up. And I never stopped believing that it could become a book.  I never gave up because I believed that having a trail guide to trauma would help more people stay on the trail so they heal their trauma and get their lives back, and giving up on the book would be giving up on them. And, I never gave up because I believed that this trail guide would help people NOT pass their trauma on to their kids. But working only during my breaks wasn’t allowing me to finish, so in 2013 I took four months from my work schedule and dedicated it to finishing the manuscript.

But a finished manuscript is not the end of the journey for a book. It’s barely a beginning.  Because in order to get published you need to find an agent and a publisher—and that’s where all of you become part of the story of this book. I did what I was told to do—I wrote letters to agents, and waited patiently for their replies, but that is a slow and difficult process with many moments of both hope and rejection. So while I was patiently waiting I did the next thing that everyone tells you to do: write a blog. I didn’t believe writing a blog would actually do anything, but I loved to write and it was a way to begin getting my trauma information and parenting information out to people. And In June of 2015 I wrote a post entitled “The Letter Your Teenager Can’t Write You” which went wildly viral—over 2 million hits as of this writing and it continues to circle the globe (and has been translated into French, Spanish, Greek, Russian and Italian).  There was one week in July of 2015 where my blog post was getting shared 48,000 times a day. And from that sharing an editor found the blog piece on her FaceBook page, passed my work on to agent, Ellen Geiger—who happily took me on, and she worked with me to find an editor, Caroline Sutton at Penguin Random House—and my book had found a home! Thanks to all of you—and many more who supported me on this long and wonderful journey.

Preorders for the book are available by clicking HERE. As a pre-order offer, for the first 150 people--if you take a screen shot of your completed order and email your screenshot to me (gretchen@gretchenschmelzer.com) along with a mailing address, I will send you a handwritten note to put in your book when you get it.  

Introduction to Emotion: The wild and wonderful weather of our internal world.

“I cannot not sail.”
— E.B.White

Emotions.  The wild and wonderful weather of our internal world. Emotions pose that classic “you can’t live with ‘em and can’t live without ‘em” dilemma. Research has proven that we feel before we think—emotions are not only part of being human, they are a necessity for decision making and learning. And for everyone I work with: leaders, parents, clients, kids—the biggest confusion is the difference between feelings and actions. Feelings are feelings—they are an internal experience. We don’t always choose our feelings. They just show up, like unexpected houseguests that we may or may not be happy to see.

What we can choose is our response, our reaction, our behavior. And this distinction between feelings and actions seems to cause the most confusion in the world of emotions. There is this assumption, especially with the emotions that we label as negative (like anger, for example), that to have that feeling means that you will behave badly. But feelings aren’t actions—though they can lead to actions. I can feel angry, but I don’t have to act angry. I can feel angry and share that I feel angry without being abusive. I can feel angry and channel that emotion and energy into productive action. There are all sorts of possibilities for me to experience anger and communicate that feeling that don’t include breaking anything or hurting someone else.

Emotional Intelligence is the ability to recognize your emotions and the emotions of others and manage your emotions in such a way to be effective for yourself and supportive of the others. The first two quadrants of the Emotional Intelligence Model described by Daniel Goleman are self-awareness and self-management.

Self-awareness is the ability to know what you are thinking and feeling in real time, as it is happening. It means you not only know what you are feeling, but you can also put a name to it. It is a way of knowing what your state of being is, and what the impact of that emotional state is, on you and anyone around you. This sounds simple and it is. But it is absolutely not easy. It's actually really hard to slow down and pay attention to your emotions--especially if they are emotions that are uncomfortable for you. 

Here’s the biggest facilitator of self-awareness: a non-judgmental attitude. You are merely being aware of how you feel. You don’t get to choose what you feel, so you may as well just take it in and observe it. The ability to be aware and notice your feelings and your current state allows you to get real-time data about what you need to be at your best.

Even though I teach Emotional Intelligence as part of my work as a leadership consultant, my biggest learning about observing emotions non-judgmentally I continue to learn while watching my brother-in-law sail. Yesterday was a perfect example. We headed out in the afternoon—it was grey and windy, and we had a great sail out, and then when we turned around the wind began to shift a lot.

And as the wind shifts and you watch my brother-in-law adjust to the wind, you realize that self-awareness of emotions is really a lot like being aware of the wind for sailing. If you don’t know where the wind is coming from, you can’t really sail effectively. And you may not like where the wind is coming from because it might mean more work: tacking, or even sitting still for a while, but judging it doesn’t really help you, and denying it and trying to sail with the wind you would wished you had really wouldn’t work.

Self-awareness is just noticing what is there, non-judgmentally, and being able to have some language, minimally inner language for it, and even more helpfully, some external language for it. Self-management is the adjusting to the wind. Self-management is taking your self-awareness and making some choice about what to do with your thoughts and emotions.  You notice how you are feeling and you do what you need to do to just sit with that emotion and let it be, or do what you need to shift your state to be most effective at what you have to do. Self-management encompasses all of the stress management strategies, like relaxation and mindfulness, as well as self-talk and other cognitive coping strategies. Self-management is not just about containing or channeling difficult emotions, it is also about tapping into to positive emotions to help you shift your state. For example, focusing on gratitude or optimism in a stressful situation.

Self-awareness and self-management work together—much the way my brother-in-law managed the sails. Yesterday there was one spot on our trip where the wind continually changed direction. He adjusted the lines and then watched. It held for a second and then it shifted again. And he adjusted the lines and then watched. But it wasn’t just the sails he was adjusting. At one point as we sat with a sail flapping he looked around with a great relaxed smile and said, “It’s just a temporary lull” –which was an attitude or emotional adjustment for us. A reminder that the current state is temporary, and this may be one of the best mantras for emotional management that there could be: it’s just a temporary lull. It’s just a temporary anger. It’s just a temporary sadness. The winds will change and you can and will adjust.

Emotions and feelings aren’t actions. They are energy, they are information, they tell you what’s going on for you. You have the ability to adjust to them, to use them, or soothe them or channel them. You have the ability to adjust your internal lines and go where you want or need to go. I’m not saying that when the more difficult emotions show up, you won’t have a bad day. I’m saying with practice managing your emotions, you will get better at adjusting to them: at knowing what you need to do to keep an even keel through your bigger weather moments.

Depending on how strong the emotions are—you may end up on a different journey than you planned. Or you may end up just sitting with it for a bit. Just remember: it’s temporary. It’s a temporary wind. It’s a temporary gale. It’s a temporary rain shower. It’s a temporary lull. And all of it can make for a great sail.

© 2015 Gretchen L Schmelzer, PhD

Note: The neuroscientist, Antonio Damasio makes the distinction between emotions as the physiological experience and feelings as the thought/meaning aspect of the experience. However the words are typically used interchangeably in English and are used interchangeably in this piece.

For more on the links between feeling and thinking and decisions:

For more on Emotional Intelligence

And for encouraging examples of messy afternoon sails:











The Veracity of Hope

“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.

Every day, every day, every day, every way,
Gonna let my little light shine.
Light that shines is the light of love,
Hides the darkness from above,
Shines on me and it shines on you,
Shows you what the power of love can do.
Shine my light both bright and clear,
Shine my light both far and near,
In every dark corner that I find,
Let my little light shine”
— Harry Dixon Loes

People like to put the word ‘hope’ into an imaginary place. A place of dreams and wishes. A place that isn’t ‘real.’

But nothing, and I mean nothing, could be further from the truth.

If hope is anything—it is the absolute inner truth of a human being’s capacity. It is the absolute inner truth of what is possible when we come back into contact with ourselves, with what is important to us. I’m not sure there is any greater truth in the world than when you see hope re-emerge on the face of someone who had lost hope.

Over the last two years I had the privilege of working with a group of Alaska Native leaders—elders and younger people who live and work in their villages in the interior of Alaska. For their entire lives they have struggled against personal trauma, historical trauma, scarce resources and a system that works against their cultural values. Each of them in their own way have worked so hard to bring healing to their people and their villages. But healing is tiring. The problems are huge.

Trauma makes you tired. Repeated trauma makes you exhausted. When you see people who have lost hope, they look on the outside the same way it can feel on the inside when you lose hope—it looks and feels blank. Like there is just nothing there. No one there. When hope is lost, you can’t make a connection to someone else, and you have lost the connection to yourself.  I have seen this blank look many times in populations that have lived through war or historical trauma. They are polite as they listen, but they aren’t yet there. I have seen it on the faces of inner city school teachers and administrators on the front lines of helping for decades. They too look, as if, behind a wall.

This can look and feel like apathy. Where the inner voice is saying, “What’s the point?” “This is hopeless.” “Nothing matters.”

And I have felt that blank space in my own healing. A place that can make you feel lost, even from yourself. When you feel blank you are no longer in a fight or even a struggle—you don’t really know what you are thinking, your mind is, well, blank.

But blankness isn’t the opposite of hope. Blankness is the protection of it. It comes in like a thick fog and protects you from anyone seeing that something does matter to you. It protects you from them seeing it, and from you having to see it for yourself. If they can’t see it, they can’t take it away from you. If you can’t see it. You don’t have to feel the pain of disappointment.

It can be so hard to long for change, long for things to be different, to hope. It can hurt to stay with what is most important to you –and tolerate the disappointment of change happening so slowly, or not at all. Tolerate having to start over and over again.

So how does it change? How do people get hope back? How do you find it again?

By feeling and remembering that something does matter. That you matter. And this happens one small conversation at a time. It happens by being listened to and by listening. By hearing yourself talk about what matters to you. By connecting to your emotions again.

When we go blank we hide the ember of our hope. We protect it deep inside ourselves but it hasn’t completely gone out. And then with one small conversation at a time we fan the ember until it catches fire again.

It is that light that is unmistakable. It is the spring flowers after a long winter—bright and shining proof that life can be rekindled. Last week I saw that light shine from their eyes suddenly as they talked about what they want for their family, their village, their people. That light shined from their smiles as they laughed once again—and that light is contagious.

But I think that there is much we don’t yet understand about the blank places—the places we go to for protection and perhaps, respite. It may be that there are just some journeys of healing and change that need or require these blank places. These are such long journeys, back from healing from war, or apartheid, or historical trauma. These are long journeys healing from child abuse or gang violence or poverty. The blank places may be filled with resources we don’t understand or they may simply be a kind of anesthesia for the soul—when it’s too painful, this blankness kicks in and protects our deepest longing. Protects our light.

When I was in high school I taught horseback riding and when kids felt overwhelmed, out-of-control, or frightened, they would often drop the reins and grab on to the mane because that felt more solid—more safe than the tiny reins felt. But the problem, of course, was that then the horse did anything it wanted, which was, typically, to walk over to the gate and stand there. This is the blank space. You aren’t in control, you have let go and you are just going for a ride, or standing still, as the case may be. It took all their bravery and will-power to let go of the mane and pick of the reins again. To take control and risk feeling wobbly. This is exactly what hope looks like: it looks like someone picking up the reins of their heart again. This is what I mean about hope being true. Hope is really what allows for true action, it may be the truest truth we will ever know.

© 2015 Gretchen L Schmelzer, PhD

Let it be.

“I think you should learn, of course, and some days you must learn a great deal. But you should also have days when you allow what is already in you to swell up inside of you until it touches everything. And you can feel it inside of you. If you never take time out to let that happen, then you accumulate facts, and they begin to rattle around inside of you. You can make noise with them, but never really feel anything with them. It’s hollow.”
— E. L. Konigsburg, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler

Healing is often on its own trajectory. We don’t really decide when certain parts of ourselves start to heal. We can’t really schedule our healing moments for convenient times. In the same way you can’t really schedule when your child will learn to walk, or talk or lose his first tooth, or break up with his first girlfriend.  Growth and development happens when the conditions are right, when things come together. And healing, especially healing from grief and trauma, is another form of growth and development. It is rehabilitative growth—it is growth that starts up again with parts that are often sore or unused or unpracticed.

Healing, mending, growth—they happen when the conditions are right. It can be a long slow process of letting things shift, of feeling like nothing is happening, of working hard to just not to use your old habits or old protections so that hurt parts of yourself can come in contact with each other or come out into the light. Much like you are waiting and hoping for your child’s developmental milestones, you are waiting and hoping for healing—but really nothing can prepare you for the messiness or the discomfort of healing. You have waited so long for it, and when it comes you think, “Can I go back?” “Should I quit?” “I thought it would feel better or easier.”

Much of what is written about healing—whether from trauma or grief is about what you can do. Self help books are filled with what you can do.  And there are times when you are doing. Most of what people imagine trauma therapy to be is a series of telling ‘war stories.’ And I think what gets in the way of people being able to tolerate treatment is that healing is much bigger than that. We are bigger than our worst story and we have to grow beyond them and with them and through them. Not only is healing bigger than that, it is slower than that. Some of healing is doing, but even more of healing is being. And we imagine being to be easier than doing. But often it is not. It is one thing to tell your war stories. It is entirely different to just sit in them,  to be in them.  And it is even bigger to have someone witness our being.

As E.L. Konigburg states above, “…you should also have days when you allow what is already in you to swell up inside of you until it touches everything. And you can feel it inside of you.” Theses are the days of healing no one writes a book about or makes a movie about. The times of healing when you have to let the work you are doing swell up inside you. Find all the edges and the empty places.

Yesterday on my walk I found myself humming, “Let it be.” It was a very grey day and I was visiting a friend in Rhode Island who had very kindly watched my dog while I was away. We both decided that we needed fresh air and headed to the beach for a long, lovely walk. And there’s nothing like a walk on the beach, on even a grey day to remind you that life has its own rhythms. Endless, loud, beautiful rhythms. The waves crash in and roll back out. The colors of the water and the sky and the sand captivated us.

It is so hard to have the same faith in the rhythms of your own healing. That there are times when it will roll in, and times it will roll out. And it is so hard to just stay with it when it shows up, and brings in all the mess with the tide. Oh the patience it takes. To find the treasures in the mess. The shells. The beautiful rocks. The sea glass. No, healing doesn’t show up when it is convenient. But when it does. Let it be. Hum it. Feel it. Grow. Heal.

© 2015 Gretchen L Schmelzer, PhD