Jane walked into my office with a calm reassuring manner that befitted a well-dressed professional woman I guessed to be somewhere in her early 50's. She had called some days earlier, saying she urgently needed to talk to somebody or she would die, and then rushed on to assure me this had nothing to do with suicide—"at least, not mine or anyone in particular, but everyone in general," she somewhat muttered as her voice trailed off. But before I could find the earliest date available on my calendar, Jane quickly added, "...but as soon as you possibly can."
Concerned that this might be something of a histrionic personality disorder, and not having space or time to engage another one at this time, I offered a one-time meeting at a time-slot I had reserved for some backlog of "reading and writing," as my daughter used to say when she occasionally felt an urgent need to catch up on some assigned work that had not managed to creep into her otherwise exciting extraverted life of friends, outings, assigned piano practice, driving lessons, and otherwise very quiet times when her bedroom door was closed with a surrounding array of books, papers, clothes, and magazines featuring her enthrallment with some pop/rock singer I tolerated.
"So how can I help you?," I asked the surprisingly poised lady entering my study. Quietly she began to speak, barely above the audible range of my hearing, so that I found myself slightly leaning forward enough to make sure I could understand what she was saying without giving any impression of encroaching her space.
"Well," she began, " the world is going to hell, unless it's already there, or I am waking up still in a tortuous nightmare filled with ghoulish characters and apocalyptic scenarios beyond the expected reach of what I once thought to be a sane mind. Now, it's important that you realize, Dr. Mishoe, I am not a histrionic person—at least not normally." (Whew! I breathed silently to myself.)
Then, Jane goes on adding quickly, "And, I am not oblivious to the outburst of human evil and idiocy, such as possessed the German nation in the late 1930's through the mid 1940's. But there is a difference now."
"Such as," I managed to squeeze in.
"Well, such as, the German people had us to reach in and save them from the madness and pranks of Adolf Hitler. We have no one. We are caught in a sea of towering waves, in a fog of obfuscation with no stars in sight and no contact with empathic and capable help."
I nodded but had no time to ask any questions, nor for that matter, any need to help Jane express her distress. She obviously had been waiting to "explode," as she later referred to her rat-a-tat-tat barrage of fear, anger, and bewilderment.
"What happened to our world?," she asked. "Since when do billionaires with arrested character development disassemble our government and destroy our society? We live in a world caught between the extremes of fire ravaging infernos and unmoored icebergs roaming in search for a place—anyplace—to dock. This is to say nothing about those who want to colonize space for the purpose of business investments, and others who play with AI for the purpose of xenotransplantations in which organs can be manufactured and inserted within our bodies, for Christ's sake!," Jane exclaimed.
"Um," I massaged my mind momentarily, thinking, "Now, what would that mean to her, 'for Christ's sake'?" Holding that thought, I came back to Jane and realized that she had suffered trauma.
We think of trauma as the experience of an event that disrupts an individual's sense of security and meaning. A trauma consists of three characteristics: shock, fear, bewilderment. The mind struggles to place the event of trauma because it does not fit into the expected way of life. It is as if a cataclysmic happening jerks us out of the world we live in and thought we could trust. But trauma is not an expected way of life.
A trauma need not appear all at once as an event with a clear-cut beginning and end. Like the scariest of our nightmares, a trauma may "seep" into our awareness without our even knowing it, and then there comes a reckoning: "This is not the world I know, and I do not know what to do, or what to expect. I am not safe."
I explained this to Jane, while she sat impassively for what seemed to be the longest time. And then, she finally spoke. "Yes, that's it! A trauma! I have been traumatized. So, fix me!"
"What would it look like if I could 'fix' you?," I asked. Her eyes flooded with tears of desperation. "I know you cannot fix me or make the situation go away—at least not now or maybe ever. What can I do?"
"We can hold consciousness of what has happened and is happening to us," I replied. "Also, while I am not sure whether or not you think of yourself as a religious or spiritual person, I can share with you what came to my mind."
"What's that?," she asked.
"It comes from the Gospel of John, one of the sayings of Jesus that was remembered and saved for times like this," I replied. And before I could go on, Jane asked, "What is the saying?"
"Well, we must remember that Jesus, like us, suffered the trauma of life-changing events for himself, his people, his "world. Roman soldiers paraded through his countryside, Greek scholars introduced foreign ideas of their wisdom, and even his own religious heritage fragmented among zealous scholars of sacred texts and moralistic expectations for families and individuals."
"In other words, his 'world' suffered the disruptions of would-be leaders like those in our day who look for profit and power, prosperity and prestige. Facing all of these, Jesus held his ground and proclaimed:
In the world you have trouble, but take heart I have overcome the world.
— (John 16:33)
Do you understand?"
"Take heart," she asked, "What exactly does that mean?"
"Consider this," I cautioned her. "The human mind can be a fickle thing, blown this way and that by the winds of the ten thousand things that compete for our attention. But, knowing this, we may resolve as to how we guide our attention, especially in moments of fear and bewilderment. To do so is to respond with courage, which is another translation for the Greek word meaning "heart." To hold our attention and not be jerked around is a way in which we courageously move through traumatic times such as these. Let's talk again," I invited her.
After we set a date for another time to talk and rose to say good-by, she walked toward the door and turned before stepping through. "Take heart," she smiled.
Concerned that this might be something of a histrionic personality disorder, and not having space or time to engage another one at this time, I offered a one-time meeting at a time-slot I had reserved for some backlog of "reading and writing," as my daughter used to say when she occasionally felt an urgent need to catch up on some assigned work that had not managed to creep into her otherwise exciting extraverted life of friends, outings, assigned piano practice, driving lessons, and otherwise very quiet times when her bedroom door was closed with a surrounding array of books, papers, clothes, and magazines featuring her enthrallment with some pop/rock singer I tolerated.
"So how can I help you?," I asked the surprisingly poised lady entering my study. Quietly she began to speak, barely above the audible range of my hearing, so that I found myself slightly leaning forward enough to make sure I could understand what she was saying without giving any impression of encroaching her space.
"Well," she began, " the world is going to hell, unless it's already there, or I am waking up still in a tortuous nightmare filled with ghoulish characters and apocalyptic scenarios beyond the expected reach of what I once thought to be a sane mind. Now, it's important that you realize, Dr. Mishoe, I am not a histrionic person—at least not normally." (Whew! I breathed silently to myself.)
Then, Jane goes on adding quickly, "And, I am not oblivious to the outburst of human evil and idiocy, such as possessed the German nation in the late 1930's through the mid 1940's. But there is a difference now."
"Such as," I managed to squeeze in.
"Well, such as, the German people had us to reach in and save them from the madness and pranks of Adolf Hitler. We have no one. We are caught in a sea of towering waves, in a fog of obfuscation with no stars in sight and no contact with empathic and capable help."
I nodded but had no time to ask any questions, nor for that matter, any need to help Jane express her distress. She obviously had been waiting to "explode," as she later referred to her rat-a-tat-tat barrage of fear, anger, and bewilderment.
"What happened to our world?," she asked. "Since when do billionaires with arrested character development disassemble our government and destroy our society? We live in a world caught between the extremes of fire ravaging infernos and unmoored icebergs roaming in search for a place—anyplace—to dock. This is to say nothing about those who want to colonize space for the purpose of business investments, and others who play with AI for the purpose of xenotransplantations in which organs can be manufactured and inserted within our bodies, for Christ's sake!," Jane exclaimed.
"Um," I massaged my mind momentarily, thinking, "Now, what would that mean to her, 'for Christ's sake'?" Holding that thought, I came back to Jane and realized that she had suffered trauma.
We think of trauma as the experience of an event that disrupts an individual's sense of security and meaning. A trauma consists of three characteristics: shock, fear, bewilderment. The mind struggles to place the event of trauma because it does not fit into the expected way of life. It is as if a cataclysmic happening jerks us out of the world we live in and thought we could trust. But trauma is not an expected way of life.
A trauma need not appear all at once as an event with a clear-cut beginning and end. Like the scariest of our nightmares, a trauma may "seep" into our awareness without our even knowing it, and then there comes a reckoning: "This is not the world I know, and I do not know what to do, or what to expect. I am not safe."
I explained this to Jane, while she sat impassively for what seemed to be the longest time. And then, she finally spoke. "Yes, that's it! A trauma! I have been traumatized. So, fix me!"
"What would it look like if I could 'fix' you?," I asked. Her eyes flooded with tears of desperation. "I know you cannot fix me or make the situation go away—at least not now or maybe ever. What can I do?"
"We can hold consciousness of what has happened and is happening to us," I replied. "Also, while I am not sure whether or not you think of yourself as a religious or spiritual person, I can share with you what came to my mind."
"What's that?," she asked.
"It comes from the Gospel of John, one of the sayings of Jesus that was remembered and saved for times like this," I replied. And before I could go on, Jane asked, "What is the saying?"
"Well, we must remember that Jesus, like us, suffered the trauma of life-changing events for himself, his people, his "world. Roman soldiers paraded through his countryside, Greek scholars introduced foreign ideas of their wisdom, and even his own religious heritage fragmented among zealous scholars of sacred texts and moralistic expectations for families and individuals."
"In other words, his 'world' suffered the disruptions of would-be leaders like those in our day who look for profit and power, prosperity and prestige. Facing all of these, Jesus held his ground and proclaimed:
In the world you have trouble, but take heart I have overcome the world.
— (John 16:33)
Do you understand?"
"Take heart," she asked, "What exactly does that mean?"
"Consider this," I cautioned her. "The human mind can be a fickle thing, blown this way and that by the winds of the ten thousand things that compete for our attention. But, knowing this, we may resolve as to how we guide our attention, especially in moments of fear and bewilderment. To do so is to respond with courage, which is another translation for the Greek word meaning "heart." To hold our attention and not be jerked around is a way in which we courageously move through traumatic times such as these. Let's talk again," I invited her.
After we set a date for another time to talk and rose to say good-by, she walked toward the door and turned before stepping through. "Take heart," she smiled.
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