I recently attended the Taylor Swift Eras Tour in New Orleans. I admittedly am not a Swiftie (and also admittedly was wildly underprepared for the culture of Swifties), but I knew I found my people when the first two friendship bracelets I received were Kamala*Walz and Swifties4Kamala. On this trip, I had some major “aha” moments:

-I can quiet my mind and be in the moment. I love live music, and I allowed myself to love living in the moment, smile to myself, and sing along.

-Sometimes life is about me and sometimes it’s not.

-I deleted all social media apps prior to the trip. Right before the concert, I downloaded Instagram just in case someone I knew was there. And almost immediately thought, everyone I know, I text, and deleted the app once more. 

 

Those are big “aha” moments for me because I thought I always had to do more, be more, accomplish more, have a next goal, and “not settle” for who I am and the career I’ve found and created. Sometimes I personalize things, sometimes I am angry at systems, and sometimes I react out of proportion to things that aren’t fair. That’s okay, and some of those distortions and triggers are not going to change. Throughout my career, I thought I needed social media and I thought social media reflected success. By letting go of the pressure to be different, to cope better or more efficiently, or change my thoughts, I have accepted that some things are about me and some things are not. Here are my eras:

 

These Things Will Change (23 with rose-colored glasses)

I chose to pursue a Master’s in Social Work because I wanted to change the world. When I started school, and after I graduated, I was full of energy to dismantle systems. I was 23, full of hope, and truly believing that one person could change a system. Living in awe of my first supervisor, who I had met after my freshman year in college, I started my first job working for his agency after graduating with my MSW. He was clinically spot-on, and he challenged me to learn as I gained experience as a therapist, writing evaluations, assessing risk, and diagnosing clients. People in our field respected him as an expert (and still do). I spent almost three years getting licensed, working with clients who committed sexually-based offenses. I enjoyed the teams I worked with and I learned a lot, but I constantly asked myself, Is this it? I felt pigeon-holed into a niche I never imagined. Things weren’t changing: there were always more victims and always more offenders. There was always more pain.

 

The Man (Recognizing the Broken Systems)

I jumped over to a psychiatric facility, with the goal of working my way up to clinical director before I turned 30, then continuing my climb in a hospital system. Almost immediately, I found myself confused and grappled by our mental health system. All of the clients in the highest level of care had trauma, but we were not able to treat it in that setting. We were solely stabilization and safety planning. I was confused at how insurance companies could authorize inpatient days, like truly baffled that clients couldn’t get the care they needed based on their presentation and symptomology. Yes, I was naïve and ignorant. I initially liked the hustle and the constant running around to different units, but eventually, I grew tired. Having to see anywhere between eight and 13 patients a day was exhausting and completely unrealistic. Seeing patients return over and over was exhausting and disappointing. As a social worker, I felt powerless. Since I did not learn my lesson of how exhausting it was to work in a broken system, I left to work at a youth detention facility. And since I still had not learned this lesson by the time the COVID-19 pandemic hit, I returned to the psychiatric facility in a different role.

The more I do this work, the more I realize that abuse, racism, oppression, and inequity are everywhere. I am constantly experiencing whiplash between feeling angry and inspired to speak out, and hopeless that there is nothing I can do. So many people do not have their basic needs met or access to care, and so many are invalidated and dismissed. I have privilege and use my voice to advocate for change, but I also feel small and like nothing I do will make a difference.

 

I’ve Been the Archer, I’ve Been the Prey (Traumatized While Treating Trauma)

No one gets through this career unscathed, just like our clients don’t get through life unscathed. There are so many parallel processes from system to supervisor to therapist to client. Every colleague I know has experienced leadership trauma- some more disturbing, impactful, or abusive than others. While at the youth detention facility, I thought I was helping youth (and hopefully I did help the majority of my caseload, even just a little bit), but I was part of a broken and traumatizing system. Staff brought in drugs to campus, a therapist was found to be in a relationship with a prior client, there was a riot, there were several escapes, there were serious youth and staff assaults, and youth were found to have weapons- all in less than two years of me being there. My body and mind both jumped into trauma all the time, wanting to solve problems, wanting to change the system, and wanting to show empathy to everyone. I didn’t know at the time that I was used to living in chaos and anxiety, which I mistook for excitement of trauma. Part of me (just part) realized how traumatizing this environment was, so I transferred to another role and to a team that I thought was healthier. On my first day there, my supervisor said she would force hugs on me because she was a hugger (I was not). I brushed this off, thinking maybe I wanted to be on a team where everyone hugs each other. I liked my actual job, and I could distance myself from the system a bit because I did not have an office and did not see clients all the time. Once the pandemic hit, I worked from home, and I justified and minimized the impact leadership had on me because I had so much flexibility. I valued flexibility and freedom, something that was given to me at a previous job but came with a cost (answering my boss’s calls at all hours of the day/night). The cost now was micromanagement, gaslighting, and blame- not just towards me, but towards my whole team. I promised myself I would hit the five year mark with the agency then leave because that was the timeframe required to be vested.

As travel resumed, I registered for a conference in Mexico with Bessel van der Kolk. I offhandedly mentioned this to a distant colleague of mine, and she and her business partner ended up attending the conference, as well. While Mexico was fun, and a nice reprieve from work, I also learned that colleagues could value my opinion and expertise. I was asked whether I would consider leaving my job to work for them (YES!) but said I had to wait until I was vested seven months later.

With less than three months to go until being vested, I threw up after supervision one day, and I listened to my husband when he told me it was time to leave. Since I could not set the boundary myself, I will forever be grateful to him for practically doing it for me. My boundaries had been crossed so many times in the professional world, I did not know where they should be or could be, or that I could enforce them. This led me to be vulnerable to victimization by another male supervisor.

While working in the trenches and experiencing leadership trauma, I was also very accomplished. I started a DSW program (that I left), I testified for House Bills and Senate Bills, I taught trainings, I presented at statewide and international conferences, and I created a 45-hour supervisor training. I built a reputation as an expert in my field and became sought after for supervision and consultation.

 

We Are Never, Ever, Ever Getting Back Together (Healing from Leadership Trauma)

If you have been impacted by leadership trauma, know that there are a lot of us out there healing, changing dysfunctional and abusive patterns, and supporting others in speaking up against these practices. This is an ongoing journey for me, and it took me five years to name my experience (with the help of two colleagues that facilitated a weekend-long retreat for healing leadership trauma). I was harmed. I was hurt. I was triggered. I was gaslit. I was blamed. I was betrayed. I lost myself, my sense of self-worth, and my ability to advocate for myself. I believed other people over me. I trusted colleagues over my clinical judgment.

This spiraled into a cycle of self-doubt and panic, while at the same time constantly seeking roles and projects that proved my worth. I took on too much. Even though others saw me as successful (in a world where success = money), I was pretty unwell. I was very good at my job, and I was impacting clients and supervisees in both small and big ways for the better. But I was anxious and overworked, and my body started to repeatedly show me this.

A leader once told me that I am too impacted by things I cannot change. Based on the context in which this was said, she was basically telling me that I had no power and that things would never change. She personalized this, and convinced me that my reactions to unjustness and inequality and inequities and abuse of power were my fault. My initial reaction was, watch me change the system. In some ways, I know I have moved the needle- for individual clients and supervisees, in policy and practice, and by challenging the status quo. That statement was more impactful than a lot of the trauma I experienced in various jobs. It took me years to put the blame back on the system and people in power. I can now distance myself from this, as I choose which systems to enter and work in, and which to say goodbye to. Recently, I asked myself (aloud) in a consultation group if I could even work in systems anymore. A colleague encouraged me to choose one system and stick with it. I did and I have. I feel much more empowered and confident that I can let go at the end of each day and not take on more than I want to. That colleague gave me the gift of saying no without needing to justify it.

I am a firm believer that abuse is the abuser’s fault, though as an adult, it was now my responsibility to heal. Having this realization led to desperation to hold myself accountable since I had learned the same lessons over and over and over. I was tired. I needed to change. I continue to heal and work through the complexities of being a helper and a survivor of abuse. Healing with others – in connection – has been a gift. I’m learning to create meaning from my experiences, and I have learned to speak (metaphorically) again.

 

They Said- Babe You Gotta Fake It Til You Make It, And I Did (Learning to Be Content)

I reached every milestone. I asked myself, What’s next? and got there every time. I repeated this for years. It got exhausting, and I lost sight of the moment. But once I learned to pause, I could sit in pride. I spent over 10 years chasing something – what, I am not sure (happiness, accomplishment, perfection?). I got somewhere- I continued my education, I got offered contracts by an international training company, I got asked to write file reviews as an expert, and I got invited to train professionals in other fields. Interestingly, all of that would have gotten me nowhere if I did not learn to heal or learn to believe that I have inherent worth. My goal now is regulation: Boring = Regulation = Contentment. I want easy, not crazy.

 

Love Story (To Myself)

I am so much more than a social worker. Five years ago, I didn’t know that. I have found my people, I have (sort of) learned how to relax, I can (better) separate from work, and I truly believe I have contributed to positive social change. I never thought my career would be where I started, working with sex offenders, nor did I think that a healthy work environment existed. But here I am.

 

Shake it Off (The Goal of Resiliency and Staying True to Myself) 

My advice (to myself and to other mental health professionals) now is:

-Find your people. These people should value you, encourage you, hold you accountable, and challenge you. They should inspire you to do what you love and what you are good at, while asking you to critically think about your practices. You might not find your people in a dream job or with your preferred population; if that’s the case and you have to choose, choose the people who lift you up.

-Create safety for yourself. This world is hard, and being a mental health provider in this world is hard. Be your own secure base. Trust yourself. Thank your past self. Have faith in your future self.

-Use social media strategically. Know that social media is a tool and is not reflective of your worth or success. In person relationships and connections are still important for networking, marketing, partnerships, creativity, and professional success.

-Always have your own liability insurance, even if you’re at an agency that covers you.

-There is nothing you can’t bounce back from (unless you have sex with a client).

-If you are a supervisor, or a leader, or have experienced success in any way, shape, or form- lift as you climb. Perhaps what I’m most proud of is my value of helping others. That extends to clients, family, friends, victims/survivors, offenders, students... everyone. And I’ve lifted people up as I’ve experienced success. People remember how you make them feel, and I strive to make people around me feel smart, empowered, valued, and worthy.

-Say no to things you don’t want to do.

-Read. Learn. Grow. Ask for feedback. Prioritize continuing education.

-Don’t let your career define you like I did for 10 years. It is part of you but not your whole Self (cue IFS work).

-And finally- Be You. Allow yourself to Just Be from time to time. You are worthy. You have value. No matter what.