Life as a witness

I have been a member of a child intervention panel for some months now. Today, in our meetings we had an opportunity to interact directly with people who have been involved in child protection. This is not new territory for me as I have been working with people whose children have been apprehended by child protection workers for many years. Indeed, I have been a social worker since 1975. A long time!

Yet, the reality of what people survive continues to impact me. Today I heard amazing stories of trauma, survival, coping and resilience.  People whose childhoods were marked by abandonment, neglect, abuse, assault - and yet also survival, coping and recovery. These have been stories of the incredible pain that some inflict on others.  The bravery of coming to a complete stranger and telling of the trauma inflicted in childhood is amazing. I am in awe of the capacity of the people I met today to reach in and tell. I am honoured to have been trusted with the stories.

I am a witness.  This is needed. To tell a story of these magnitudes, the audience must be wiling to listen, otherwise there is only the pain of telling. Instead, what we offer is validation that says not only are you believed but also respected for being the human who survives.

There is no end to the pain that some inflict on others. Witnesses are essential. Giving space for the telling of truth matters. This is what we do as social workers. To be a witness requires that we also engage in self care. Meditation is such an opportunity. I cannot be a witness otherwise. When a women tells you of sexual assault; another speaks of alcohol as medication to take away the pain of neglect and abuse; when another speaks of a child lost and yet another talks about the broken self that exists after sexual assault. Witnesses must be strong in order to stand beside the survivors and give them true opportunity to know they speak their truth.

In meditation, I must find my truth. I must allow the pain of others to not be my pain while acknowledging that their truth exists and I am changed by it. I, like so many others, are drawn to social work because of our own painful journeys. Meditation is a place to know that pain within me while also seeing my recovery, resilience and fragility. I am a flawed self as also are the people I heard today. In meditation, there is space for both they and I.

To be known

I saw your eyes
the pain within
covered by the smile

You told me
of the abuse
As tears snuck out

Kleenex sought
Eyes diverted
The downward stare

We sat closely
I could hear the breath
Held to stop the crying

Loss spoken about
life once known
But now denied

It is within your cells
and mixed
the moment when we were both one

Walking away
My back turned
You will never leave me

Yet we will never again meet
Having left the intersection
But paths crossed

Your strength
and weakness cohabitants
Teaching me

© Peter Choate 2017

Being the Silent Witness

Social workers witness trauma - and - quite specifically - the legacy of trauma. This is the detritus that we witness on a regular basis. The trauma is bad enough in many cases but the clean up can tae years. As we have been seeing on a regular basis in the news, victims of sexual assault rarely report the crime. When they do, conviction rates are low.

Here in Canada, we have been watching a judge being "tried" to determine if he will keep his job. He made inappropriate comments in a sexual assault case illustrating a failure to understand the crime. I'm sure you can quickly think of dozens of sexual assaults that have been handled poorly by justice systems in various places around the globe.

Other forms of inter personal violence are also typically under reported.

As social workers (along with other front line responders) we become witnesses to the impacts of the trauma. It is particularly hard when victims lack the voice to be heard. It is also sad when the justice systems fail to respond and protect victims. When we see these failures, we can feel as though we might own the failure as our clients turn to us trying to understand. We often lack explanations.

These cases tend to haunt us. Many front line workers tell the story of the case where someone dies as a result of systemic failures. It happens. In truth, most of the cases where a child dies, people forget that it was not the social worker who killed the child but a caretaker. Even so, we bear the scars.

In meditation, there is an opportunity to develop compassion for not only the victim but also the perpetrator who, themselves, are typically victims as well. They bear the burdens of their own traumas which they live out in their emotional and physical violence, creating another generation of traumas. Compassion is not a free pass - it is understanding in a way that helps us to see the vulnerable, hurt person who is also the perpetrator. When we find the compassion, we carry less hurt within ourselves.

Yes, there are some perpetrators who make compassion hard. The German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer reminds us that "compassion is the basis of morality." It is also the foundation which separates us from those who would be violent. It is that fine line that matters.

Silent Witness

There it is

Not a word will be spoken

A story will be told

It is one for which every effort will be made to withhold

It is a story that must be told

And cannot be withheld

If the reader truly seeks 

to find it

Looking down I see the need

Crouching

I come to look into the eyes

Not a word is needed

I see eyes that are too old

For such a child

Eyes that stare

Refusing to yield

These are the eyes that have witnessed

I move ever so slightly

The eyes fixate

The body tenses

The story is now told

It is not ready to be spoken

I have become the truth holder

Until the child can find voice

If ever

© Peter Choate, 2016