“How are you holding up?”
A client eyed me with that rhetorical yet impossible question.
They know. They know we are part of a larger community that is suffering. They know that I too, am an American holding space for other grieving Americans. I awkwardly huff and nod when I tell them, “I don’t know, this is really hard. But this week the feeling is rage and I’m writing postcards a lot.”
My client laughed and we moved into the work.
Our clients are hurting. Some are reeling from sudden employment loss at the hands of this administration. We witness the hand wringing elected officials give voice to what feels like too mild of protest. A captive, collective audience we remain; to cruelty, indifference, and oppression. While the incompetence of a certain hateful faction can offer some hope; hope that institutions will bend but not break, it is not enough. We are witnessing a dangerous pattern. This is hard on us pattern-recognizers, like really hard. Collective denial, reckless use of power and the minimization of harm has an effect. It's confusing. Those that have survived oppression for generations know there is nothing hysterical about confronting American exceptionalism. Listening to my audiobook on Nazi propaganda and the resistance in France during WWII, I keep blurting, “THAT’S WHAT THEY’RE DOING RIGHT NOW!!” My dog is often confused.
Clinicians can expect to enter a shared sense of trauma and grief. We mourn together to offer our clients clarity and community. We are present with clients by remaining authentic.
Clients seek advice and suggestions all the time for navigating sociopolitical stress. I ask them, “What does your rage tell you? When you stay with the emotions and honor the shape they take, what happens next? What stops you from staying still?” When clients attempt to avoid their grief because it is too much, too often, or too fast, it increases shame. We enable an operating system that seeks one thing: relief. When we have an urgent need for relief from shame, it narrows our scope. We are deprived of the sacred self, the well of internal resources. The goal is movement towards shame and grief. When I embrace my shifting internal world, I cannot be separated from its resources.
The dignity in remaining a wholly feeling human is an act of resistance. Who benefits when I dismiss or try to delete my feelings about what is happening in my country? I reject indifference to myself or others. Working with trauma disorders throughout my career, I’ve learned that to stay present in spite of suffering is a reclaiming of power. I will feel the pain, the despair, and the horror when I bear witness and I will remain. When we remain, we change. Utter devastation and loss can be followed by growth. The phrase, "doing the work" is common vernacular for anyone seeking change. Staying close to yourself with stillness, slowness, and softness is "doing the work."
The ways in which we resist defeat are truly infinite and mastery does not exist. The sacred experience of the "self" is both a journey and a destination. I try to find that space as it shifts and flows. It seems like once I have found a tool, it may not work as well in a few weeks. The process is blurry and full of mistakes. But the reward is real.
Intuition whispers when we accept our whole selves. If I stay close to myself and my community, I can stay in a harsh reality without burning out.
Hope is an active process, it takes work. But what I have I will share . What wisdom my ancestors have gifted me will remain . My community will also continue to share its fierce hope.
Start with reality. What are the facts that I find unacceptable today?
8 thing that help me:
When I am angry, I write a postcard to someone I know or love. I want the people I care about to know that I support them and they are not alone.
When it feels like the rage will never end, I move my body.
When I am wrecked by injustice and cruelty, I read others’ stories and the wisdom of survival. When I am a mess, I write and hope something shakes loose.
When I feel uncertain, I read historical nonfiction. None of this is new and we have always been a community. I can learn more and continue to think critically. Also, I’m lying because I don’t need a high minded reason to read American history. It's a hoot, y’all.
I look for people turning to each other instead of consuming.
I see organizing in group chats, protests, and in professional settings. The fight is real and communities are responding.
I see people turning to creativity and art to find solace. A mighty collective is waking.
I found strength looking to my local community and neighborhood for activism opportunities.
Reflection questions to sit with:
What have you discovered since the current administration was elected?
What have you observed within yourself and others?
What did you find purpose in as a child that you can connect to today for strength and resolve?
Is there any experience you are rushing through or pushing away?
Written by Carly Falk