So this memory is from about 3 years ago. It was within my last few weeks living in Corvallis before grad school.
One thing my Corvallis/college/Dixon Lodge/Blue House friends and I loved to do sometimes as cheap entertainment was take a walk out to the Covered Bridge. The Covered Bridge is, well, a covered bridge that spans a creek that runs across a path through an agricultural area of Oregon State University's campus. It is a peaceful spot at night to go out and watch stars. Not to say that you won't likely encounter a couple other people, but it stays fairly quiet.
Well, both Chris and I were moving away from Corvallis at roughly the same time (within a week of one another) so he, Caitlin and I decided to go for one last Covered Bridge walk (sniff sniff..those were good times!).
I was working in Child Welfare at that time, and my first go-round with Child Welfare was a little rough. I wasn't as fast a learner as my first supervisor had hoped, and I went through a period where my future there was a little uncertain. I made it through that period, but a combination of some lingering concern about that due to some conflicting communication styles between my supervisor and I, and the nature of the work itself, had an impact on me and to some degree on my functioning.
So we were walking along this path, which is pretty sparsely lit, just talking and having a great time. Since we always just kind of strolled along and enjoyed ourselves, it was pretty common for someone who was out for a workout to pass us from behind. This happened this time, a man was on a jog and passed us as he got close to us. But for some reason, that one time, it triggered something really odd in me...it startled me so badly that before I had a chance to even realize I'd been startled, I was suddenly on the ground, protecting my head with my hands, screaming bloody murder.
That poor guy...
Anyway, once I realized what happened, I looked up at Chris and Caitlin, who paused briefly to look puzzled before bending over in gut-splitting laughter. I cracked up too, because the whole situation was (and is!) pretty comical. But my heart was still racing.
It is only now, few years later, that I can recognize this as a sign of Vicarious (or Secondary) Trauma, hereby shortened to VT.
VT is something that occurs to some people who work in helping professions. One thing it is not is having a trauma reaction to seeing something or hearing something specific: that is actual trauma. VT can have some similar symptoms to trauma, but it is not the effect of any one thing. Instead, it is a reaction to an accumulation of being witness to others' suffering. It happens especially when you feel a responsibility to have a positive impact on others' suffering, and even more so when you feel hopeless or powerless to do so. (One of the best explanations I have read on VT: http://headington-institute.org/Default.aspx?tabid=2648 )
Several months before, I remember feeling really weird about life. Maybe a little anxious, not exactly numb, and I wasn't depressed, but something had just felt "off" for awhile. I tried to explain this sensation to a great friend/co-worker. I had mentioned that something felt "off" and she tried to help me un-pack it, but I couldn't really even talk about it because I didn't fully understand it. In retrospect, I saw the lives of lots of my clients crumbling and felt partially responsible...which made me feel guilty. I also just felt really sad about all the suffering I was seeing. In a word (or two): Vicarious Trauma.
Now, I had heard of Vicarious Trauma before I experienced this, and I knew a little about it. But I didn't know enough about it to know that's what I was going through, and I certainly didn't have the words to talk about it. I think if I did, that would have helped.
Instead, I got a little untrusting and easily irritated for a period of time. (This also happened to be the period of time in which my now-fiance and I were getting to know one another. Lucky for me he stuck around to get to the better part!)
I had a break from this all when I went to grad school, but after a few months of being back into Child Welfare, I started feeling that way again. Armed with at least the knowledge that I shouldn't feel that way, I began seeing a counselor. She was good for me and a calming force, but she started exploring the concept of attention deficit with me. I thought this was interesting, and that it might help account for some of my disorganization, but I ran it by a couple of people who have known me since I was a kid, and they said they never would have thought that about me. So it made me really question that, since attention deficit isn't known for having an adult-onset type.
Really, what it boiled down to was leftover VT from working Child Welfare previously. And once I realized that, I was able to process it...which in turn reduced my work-related anxiety, and helped me be much more productive.
Now, I want to say that I do not tell this story as a "poor me, look what I've been through, show me pity" thing. I wouldn't trade my life for anyone's. I've had it easier than anyone I know, and I could fill 100 pages with blessings for every page I could fill with hardships about my life. I am telling it because if there is someone else out there who has felt this way...you are not alone. It's a pretty normal reaction to working in any sort of helping profession, and you should talk to someone you trust. And you are welcome to talk to me.
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