Resurrection After Rape Community Group
Discussion, question-and-answer, general social support, and journal processing for progress-oriented rape survivors. No crisis, no damaging or triggering conflicts--this is for individuals who want to contribute to collective, cooperative action toward the goal of making actual PROGRESS through rape trauma. Much of this work is based on the book "Resurrection After...
This was an enormous conference, with people representing mental health, law enforcement, advocates, policy makers, attorneys, nurses, and crisis workers.
On Wednesday, I presented a training for therapists about how to process a rape trauma narrative in counseling. I gave information I didn't include in RAR because this was intended for the facilitators of the therapy, not for the therapy client. I used photos of brain scans to show the neurological effects of trauma and to demonstrate that group therapy actually results in changes in the brain's functioning and responses to stress--things that medication or private willpower cannot do. Thus, neuropsychiatrists say, talking therapy IS a step in the recovery process. I talked about mistakes therapists make in processing rape narratives, and how to respond to client crisis that results from the emotional fallout of this step. About 80 people attended, and many of them said afterward that they were so glad they attended because they had never heard information like this before. And that's not their fault--it's really not taught in textbooks or classes, so unless a therapist has an experienced mentor who specializes in these techniques, it's just not something that can be picked up through other education. I was fortunate to have one of the last mentors/supervisors in all of Oklahoma who was a specialist, and who no longer takes apprentices. Apparently, this isn't being taught to therapists elsewhere, because a packed room from across the state said "this is the first time we've ever had any kind of training like this!" Yikes!
Then yesterday I presented with Danee and Victoria together, on the topic of the "Mindset and philosophy of rape trauma therapy." The purpose of this choice of topic is that conferences often present so much data and academic information, but very little about the "personality" of treatment. As a result, therapists often leave with lots of graphs and research stats and academic information about theory and technique, but nothing about the fundamental importance of the personality we bring to this work. A therapist could mimic every technique in a textbook while working with a rape victim, but if they didn't have that extra, unspoken sense of "soul calling" to this stuff, it would still fall flat. Rape trauma therapy is about more than techniques, it's about philosophy and mindset.
We talked about how important it is for therapists not to assume they have a "right" to hear a victim's story, but to take a reverent tone toward her and see her story as something that must be earned. I talked about how every patient of mine has come to a "make or break" crisis where they fear they are about to drive me away and disgust me with their story, or with some belief they have failed. Victoria talked about the existential crisis of realizing she is actually going to succeed, but then becoming panicked about the prospect of having to re-define herself without her pain. Danee talked about spending two weeks hiding from me in therapy, but watching me respond gently to others until she realized I wouldn't hurt her, and then opening up.
I also talked about the possibility that a therapist will respond emotionally to some of what we hear. I've worked with over 500 rape victims, and most of their stories--while deeply traumatic--don't impact me in a deeper emotional sense (not meaning I don't care, but meaning that I am able to stay somewhat detached from their pain, while still responding with empathy). But once in a while, something "slips through the filter" and brings up emotions for me, too. This happened with both of the women who share cover credit with me for the RAR book, and it happened with Danee's story; each of these women brought me to tears as a result of their experiences (in Danee's case, it was concurrent with her story and she saw the tears in my eyes; with S and V it happened later--in fact, it was while I was on a mountaintop in prayer for them later. I do, at times, go to mountains in special prayer for some of my patients, and S, V, and Danee are three examples).
And for a while, earlier in my career, I was dumbfounded by this and afraid it meant I was weak, or doing something wrong. Therapists, we are told, are supposed to be detached and objective, so that we don't get "enmeshed" in the story, so that counter-transference doesn't emerge in the work. Well, I went to several advisers and senior therapists with this concern. "Nonsense!" they told me. "Feeling those feelings doesn't disqualify you form this work, and it doesn't mean you have any inappropriate emotions or vulnerabilities. These feelings are what makes you RIGHT for this work. The day you are numb to this is the day you should quit." (counter-transference, of course, is not a bad thing. It's actually a very useful thing; it teaches us and can benefit the therapy process immensely, when understood)
I also talked about patients telling me later that it had been a very healing experience for them to see my emotional responses to their stories. They hadn't felt that I was "in over my head," but that their stories mattered, and they realized I and the group had seen them as valued, worthy people. Danee talked about returning to group after a weekend of bingeing and feeling ashamed, and rather than being scolded and rejected for her mistakes and "failures," she was told "you look like you need a hug," and then brought back into a group waiting to support her. I told the audience that these are things no workshop or class or book can teach; they either have it in them or they don't. If they are the type of person who can see people as worthy of care and gentleness despite their flaws or imperfections, then they might have what it takes. If they are people who see others' imperfections as something to be condemned, reproached, or rejected, they will not be able to do this work--no matter how well-read they are, how well-spoken they are, or how well-intended they are. Victoria echoed this when she talked about expecting condemnation from me because of her sexual self-injury story, and that upon being told that there was nothing in her that could ever make her unwelcome to me, or cause me to reject her, she knew this process was going to work.
I also told the group that we need to be mindful of the reasons for why we do this work. I said that I am often uncomfortable with the glory, credit, and status that is shown to therapists, when our contribution to this work is just a part of the effort, and the true glory for this goes to the women who actually do this work. I cautioned that doing this work for status or personal gain is wrong, and that the real reason anyone does this work isn't because of a paycheck or a compliment, but because it is ALWAYS personal.
Last, I told the audience that it is important for survivors to have some physical reminder of how far they have come so that they do not doubt their success. I do this by giving certain journal assignments that document the pain and growth of each person, having them finish collages that contrast their hurt with their hope, and having them write letters to future survivors. I also think the best decision I ever made was to have former patients return to talk with current patients, to offer hope and comfort. Victoria, for example, came back to help Danee, and now Danee comes back to help others. At the end of the session I asked Victoria and Danee each to read their letters to future survivors and conclude the session (so that their words, not mine, would be the last).
During this session, I saw countless women in tears, nodding their heads and responding so strongly to what Danee and Victoria were saying. As they read their letters, the entire room was solemn with tears of joy. When the letters were finished, Victoria, Danee, and I happily high-fived each other, and the room exploded in applause and gave a standing ovation. Over and over, women said it was the best workshop of the whole two days. Victoria and Danee were crowded by women wanting to hug them, talk to them, cry to them.
This is what it's all about. It's not about glory or status. It's not about appearing perfect so that others follow you as a role model. It's not about having admirers. It's about feeling happy by watching others finally get the light and glory they deserve.
On Wednesday, I presented a training for therapists about how to process a rape trauma narrative in counseling. I gave information I didn't include in RAR because this was intended for the facilitators of the therapy, not for the therapy client. I used photos of brain scans to show the neurological effects of trauma and to demonstrate that group therapy actually results in changes in the brain's functioning and responses to stress--things that medication or private willpower cannot do. Thus, neuropsychiatrists say, talking therapy IS a step in the recovery process. I talked about mistakes therapists make in processing rape narratives, and how to respond to client crisis that results from the emotional fallout of this step. About 80 people attended, and many of them said afterward that they were so glad they attended because they had never heard information like this before. And that's not their fault--it's really not taught in textbooks or classes, so unless a therapist has an experienced mentor who specializes in these techniques, it's just not something that can be picked up through other education. I was fortunate to have one of the last mentors/supervisors in all of Oklahoma who was a specialist, and who no longer takes apprentices. Apparently, this isn't being taught to therapists elsewhere, because a packed room from across the state said "this is the first time we've ever had any kind of training like this!" Yikes!
Then yesterday I presented with Danee and Victoria together, on the topic of the "Mindset and philosophy of rape trauma therapy." The purpose of this choice of topic is that conferences often present so much data and academic information, but very little about the "personality" of treatment. As a result, therapists often leave with lots of graphs and research stats and academic information about theory and technique, but nothing about the fundamental importance of the personality we bring to this work. A therapist could mimic every technique in a textbook while working with a rape victim, but if they didn't have that extra, unspoken sense of "soul calling" to this stuff, it would still fall flat. Rape trauma therapy is about more than techniques, it's about philosophy and mindset.
We talked about how important it is for therapists not to assume they have a "right" to hear a victim's story, but to take a reverent tone toward her and see her story as something that must be earned. I talked about how every patient of mine has come to a "make or break" crisis where they fear they are about to drive me away and disgust me with their story, or with some belief they have failed. Victoria talked about the existential crisis of realizing she is actually going to succeed, but then becoming panicked about the prospect of having to re-define herself without her pain. Danee talked about spending two weeks hiding from me in therapy, but watching me respond gently to others until she realized I wouldn't hurt her, and then opening up.
I also talked about the possibility that a therapist will respond emotionally to some of what we hear. I've worked with over 500 rape victims, and most of their stories--while deeply traumatic--don't impact me in a deeper emotional sense (not meaning I don't care, but meaning that I am able to stay somewhat detached from their pain, while still responding with empathy). But once in a while, something "slips through the filter" and brings up emotions for me, too. This happened with both of the women who share cover credit with me for the RAR book, and it happened with Danee's story; each of these women brought me to tears as a result of their experiences (in Danee's case, it was concurrent with her story and she saw the tears in my eyes; with S and V it happened later--in fact, it was while I was on a mountaintop in prayer for them later. I do, at times, go to mountains in special prayer for some of my patients, and S, V, and Danee are three examples).
And for a while, earlier in my career, I was dumbfounded by this and afraid it meant I was weak, or doing something wrong. Therapists, we are told, are supposed to be detached and objective, so that we don't get "enmeshed" in the story, so that counter-transference doesn't emerge in the work. Well, I went to several advisers and senior therapists with this concern. "Nonsense!" they told me. "Feeling those feelings doesn't disqualify you form this work, and it doesn't mean you have any inappropriate emotions or vulnerabilities. These feelings are what makes you RIGHT for this work. The day you are numb to this is the day you should quit." (counter-transference, of course, is not a bad thing. It's actually a very useful thing; it teaches us and can benefit the therapy process immensely, when understood)
I also talked about patients telling me later that it had been a very healing experience for them to see my emotional responses to their stories. They hadn't felt that I was "in over my head," but that their stories mattered, and they realized I and the group had seen them as valued, worthy people. Danee talked about returning to group after a weekend of bingeing and feeling ashamed, and rather than being scolded and rejected for her mistakes and "failures," she was told "you look like you need a hug," and then brought back into a group waiting to support her. I told the audience that these are things no workshop or class or book can teach; they either have it in them or they don't. If they are the type of person who can see people as worthy of care and gentleness despite their flaws or imperfections, then they might have what it takes. If they are people who see others' imperfections as something to be condemned, reproached, or rejected, they will not be able to do this work--no matter how well-read they are, how well-spoken they are, or how well-intended they are. Victoria echoed this when she talked about expecting condemnation from me because of her sexual self-injury story, and that upon being told that there was nothing in her that could ever make her unwelcome to me, or cause me to reject her, she knew this process was going to work.
I also told the group that we need to be mindful of the reasons for why we do this work. I said that I am often uncomfortable with the glory, credit, and status that is shown to therapists, when our contribution to this work is just a part of the effort, and the true glory for this goes to the women who actually do this work. I cautioned that doing this work for status or personal gain is wrong, and that the real reason anyone does this work isn't because of a paycheck or a compliment, but because it is ALWAYS personal.
Last, I told the audience that it is important for survivors to have some physical reminder of how far they have come so that they do not doubt their success. I do this by giving certain journal assignments that document the pain and growth of each person, having them finish collages that contrast their hurt with their hope, and having them write letters to future survivors. I also think the best decision I ever made was to have former patients return to talk with current patients, to offer hope and comfort. Victoria, for example, came back to help Danee, and now Danee comes back to help others. At the end of the session I asked Victoria and Danee each to read their letters to future survivors and conclude the session (so that their words, not mine, would be the last).
During this session, I saw countless women in tears, nodding their heads and responding so strongly to what Danee and Victoria were saying. As they read their letters, the entire room was solemn with tears of joy. When the letters were finished, Victoria, Danee, and I happily high-fived each other, and the room exploded in applause and gave a standing ovation. Over and over, women said it was the best workshop of the whole two days. Victoria and Danee were crowded by women wanting to hug them, talk to them, cry to them.
This is what it's all about. It's not about glory or status. It's not about appearing perfect so that others follow you as a role model. It's not about having admirers. It's about feeling happy by watching others finally get the light and glory they deserve.
Danee also came with me to talk to a college class yesterday morning, and shared parts of her story with a room of 60 students! Talk about courage!
Oh, and the cosmic "thank you" we got for all of this is that my wife's van, which we tried to take to the sweat lodge, is now mired in a half-foot of pure mud in the middle of nowhere. Victoria and I had to abandon it in the middle of the dark forest, walk back to town, call my wife, and freeze for 40 minutes until we got a ride home. That van is still stranded there.
I had my car break down in the snow a couple of years ago, my hairy biker mate came out with a flask of coffee and biscuits while I was waiting for the AA to turn up, bless him. Hope you get the van rescued somehow!