Vicki Enns's Blog, page 3

4 Ways to Support Beneficence in Counselling

Ethical practice in counselling is built on common principles that reflect shared values in the helping professions. These are often listed as the foundational principles of autonomy, non-maleficence (do no harm), justice, beneficence (prioritizing the client’s best interests), loyalty, and honesty.

A positive perspective toward ethics shifts our focus toward the aspirational purpose they are meant to serve. This means we can use ethical principles as guides in our overall counselling work. The principles become another tool in our toolbox to help us choose questions and interventions that support broader healing and growth.

This is the second blog in a series exploring ethics as part of our everyday counselling work. It’s meant to support the growth of confidence and effectiveness for all counsellors by looking at practical steps to apply each principle.

Let’s continue with Beneficence.

Beneficence

Beneficence is the aspiration of counsellors to provide our services in a way that benefits the client or participant, not ourselves. This principle can seem straightforward and is clearly paramount to the work of supporting others. However, it’s important to recognize that practicing beneficence isn’t always simple.

As counsellors and helpers, we do benefit from doing this work – and that’s a good thing! For example, we get to experience the positive effects of compassion satisfaction, personal growth, and earning a living. But counselling work may also cost us our energy, and cause compassion fatigue or the feeling that we’re not doing enough when the demand is high. A second reason beneficence can be less than straightforward is that it needs to be built on a foundation of trust in the therapeutic relationship. We can’t assume this will occur naturally; rather, it comes through thoughtful and active steps.

For these reasons, it can be helpful to keep beneficence at the forefront of our counselling practice, so we can uphold the highest standard of support while also caring for ourselves and remaining resilient.

Beneficence is the aspiration of counsellors to provide our services in a way that benefits the client or participant, not ourselves.

Case Study: Ian

I first met Ian when he reached out after a breakup. He expressed sadness, loss, and anger about the way this relationship ended, and felt confused and helpless about the choice of his partner to end their connection. Ian expressed worry about connecting well in therapy as he had struggled with counselling relationships in the past. He was reticent to share too much about himself in our first session and was clear that he felt he really needed support.

In our first meeting, I wasn’t sure that I was the right person to support Ian. I could feel his hesitancy to open up with me, and, if I’m being completely honest, I found it difficult to find points of connection. We were very different in many ways, and he worriedly pointed these out: age (Ian was about 15 years older), culture (he described a strong religious affiliation and background different from my own), and gender (Ian noted that I reminded him of his ex-partner, who was also a woman with similar hair colour).

I realized that the principle of beneficence could help me in this early stage of building a trusting connection that would benefit Ian.

Strategies to cultivate beneficence: Actively create opportunities for trust.

One of the clearest and simplest descriptions of beneficence I’ve heard is that it is active empathy. As counsellors, we rely on empathy almost as second nature. By becoming intentional about matching our empathy to the other person through tangible actions, the power of this resource deepens. One way I do this is by considering an act of care that would be particularly meaningful to the other person. This can be as simple as boiling water ahead of time for their preferred tea, or listening very carefully for what’s important to them but might not initially seem obvious.

One of the clearest and simplest descriptions of beneficence I’ve heard is that it is active empathy.

One of Ian’s ongoing stressors was money, and he was concerned that he couldn’t afford to continue living in his apartment. To me this was a priority to focus on for his overall stress. However, as I listened carefully, I realized that although he was concerned about money, he was feeling more stressed about the possible loss of other relationships at his local community centre due to the change in his relationship. When we explored and addressed his concerns about his social connections, it became clear he would be better able to address all of his other stressors as well.

Proactively learn about your client’s world.

Another part of active empathy is creating cultural safety and educating ourselves about the context and lived experience of those we are working with. Being proactive and doing some of our own legwork to learn about their culture, faith context, and community helps us be more culturally humble and nimble. It also creates more opportunities for connection, even across differences.

Ian had expressed the importance of his religious faith and how it has been a foundation for him  throughout his life. As we discussed different resources Ian had tried accessing in the past, it became clear that he had often experienced a lack of fit based on values. This added to his feelings of isolation and distrust. To better understand Ian, it was helpful for me to spend some time looking at the website of the church he attended, as well as other community resources that might better fit his values. This gave us more points of connection together, enabling us to discuss what he found helpful and what he needed.

Active empathy is creating cultural safety and educating ourselves about the context and lived experience of those we are working with.

Invite feedback often.

Opportunities for our clients or participants to give us feedback on how they are experiencing our services are key for building trust, safety, and ensuring that their needs and goals are at the forefront of the work we are doing together. It can be helpful to have several methods available for people to provide feedback. To embody beneficence, it is important we regularly initiate these opportunities.

It became a routine part of our conversations to check in on Ian’s goals and how our connection was going. After about four meetings, I invited Ian to fill out a feedback form before our next session to revisit the initial goals he had when we first met. This proved very helpful in our next conversation as we noted areas that he still felt hesitant about – in particular, the fact that I reminded him of his ex. This was difficult for him to raise in session, but by writing it down, it provided an important opportunity to revisit this and continue to build our trust.

Build your own support and learning network.

Counselling work holds both benefits and costs for us as helpers, and we can protect and strengthen our own resilience by proactively and regularly tending to any fatigue, inner conflicts, or stress from the work. Beneficence holds the standard up so that we ensure we are privileging our client’s best interests, but this doesn’t mean ignoring our own needs or rights. Rather, it means we have ways to tend to ourselves and get the support we need.

Due to the differences between Ian and myself, I realized I was putting a lot of effort into being open and actively empathic. It caught me a bit by surprise during my next peer consultation group when I debriefed some of this work. I realized how much frustration I had pushed aside from the times I would disagree with Ian’s choices, or felt reminded of my past difficult experiences with others who held different cultural values than my own. Through talking this out with supportive peers, I regained clarity and compassion for Ian, as well as cultivated care for my own well-being.

Ethical principles create the foundation of solid, trauma-informed, and culturally-safe work.

Ethical principles create the foundation of solid, trauma-informed, and culturally-safe work. The principle of beneficence helps us ensure we are holding to the highest standard of ethical caring while also solidifying our own well-being.

For more FREE RESOURCES on this topic and others, visit our free resources page.

Author: Vicki Enns (MMFT, RMFT)
Clinical Director, Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute

Vicki co-author of CTRI’s book, Counselling Insights: Practical Strategies for Helping Others with Anxiety, Trauma, Grief, and More. The book is available on our website.

To receive notification of a new blog posting, follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn.
© CTRI Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute (www.ctrinstitute.com)
Interested in using the content of this blog? Learn more here. 

The post 4 Ways to Support Beneficence in Counselling appeared first on Crisis and Trauma Resource Institute.

4 Strategies for Developmental Trauma Work

Traumatic experiences during childhood and adolescent development can have a distinct shaping influence on the rest of one’s life. Not every bump and bruise will have an impact, and many events will be completely forgotten. However, overwhelming or threatening experiences may yield a traumatic impact and weave themselves into the ongoing development of a person’s body and mind.

There are three main developmental patterns that are particularly shaped by the legacy of developmental trauma: attachment, self-regulation, and self-perspective.

Attachment patterns affect how a person reaches for and lets in connections with other people. As counsellors, our goal should be to help those struggling with attachment patterns risk feeling cared about and expressing their needs clearly.Self-regulation patterns affect how a person manages their physical and emotional responses to stresses in daily life. One of the goals in counselling is to help those struggling with self-regulation adjust the intensity of whatever emotion they are feeling, so they can stay connected to life without fearing it.Self-perspective patterns describe the quality of one’s relationship to self. This can involve living with persistent feelings of fear, shame, and humiliation. Healing from this kind of self-perspective is a slow, yet foundational goal for resolving the impact of developmental trauma.

Traumatic experiences during childhood and adolescent development can have a distinct shaping influence on the rest of one’s life.

I have come to rely on the following four principles to guide how I support change in these patterns:

1) Build a secure relationship foundation

A common factor for effective counselling work is the quality of the relationship between counsellor and client. Building a secure, nurturing, helping relationship becomes the initial task and is the foundation upon which all other ongoing counselling work rests. It’s not unusual for much of the time spent with a client who experienced developmental trauma to revolve around building, monitoring, and repairing this foundation. The steps can seem simple, yet they can have a profoundly powerful impact on the quality of your working relationship.

Building a secure, nurturing, helping relationship becomes the initial task and is the foundation upon which all other ongoing counselling work rests. 

2) Create developmental bridges

It can be helpful to watch for times when these gaps show up in how a client responds or utters a belief about themselves and to use gentle observation and curious questions to build bridges that allow the client to grow this capacity.

3) Develop a positive connection to the body

It can be very helpful to practice noticing these small physical shifts with clients when they are not in a full alarm response. The body can become a scary place for a trauma survivor. Our goal is to rediscover and re-inhabit the body as a safe home base.

4) Order the story across time

We don’t have to go through every part of the story, and indeed, the client may not have access to all of their memories, particularly when events happened at very early ages. If we can help find the language or expression of the parts of the memory they are aware of in a way that feels experience-near enough for a client, this process allows a fuller and more integrated record to be stored in their memory. Once a person is able to face and work with even one piece of their experience, with support to understand it outside of the panic of survival, they have the tools to allow the other pieces to fall into place.

The healing journey from developmental trauma is often long and winding.

The healing journey from developmental trauma is often long and winding. A person can slowly untangle the impacts of their trauma to fill in the developmental gaps that were left along the way as they struggled to just survive. As a companion on one small part of this journey, I have learned to trust the process of following the guiding principles described in this blog. Often, the steps are small and subtle. However, as the pieces of long-held memories can be placed in their past, clients can start to engage with their present up to their full potential. Rather than just surviving in spite of fear and helplessness, they can live their way into a future with more choice and joy.

For more FREE RESOURCES on this topic and others, visit our free resources page.

Author: Vicki Enns (MMFT, RMFT)
Clinical Director, Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute

Vicki co-author of CTRI’s book, Counselling Insights: Practical Strategies for Helping Others with Anxiety, Trauma, Grief, and More. The book is available on our website.

To receive notification of a new blog posting, follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn.
© CTRI Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute (www.ctrinstitute.com)
Interested in using the content of this blog? Learn more here. 

The post 4 Strategies for Developmental Trauma Work appeared first on Crisis and Trauma Resource Institute.

4 Ways to Help Others Overcome Developmental Trauma

Traumatic experiences during childhood and adolescent development can have a distinct shaping influence on the rest of one’s life. Not every bump and bruise will have an impact, and many events will be completely forgotten. However, overwhelming or threatening experiences may yield a traumatic impact and weave themselves into the ongoing development of a person’s body and mind.

There are three main developmental patterns that are particularly shaped by the legacy of developmental trauma: attachment, self-regulation, and self-perspective.

Attachment patterns affect how a person reaches for and lets in connections with other people. As counsellors, our goal should be to help those struggling with attachment patterns risk feeling cared about and expressing their needs clearly.Self-regulation patterns affect how a person manages their physical and emotional responses to stresses in daily life. One of the goals in counselling is to help those struggling with self-regulation adjust the intensity of whatever emotion they are feeling, so they can stay connected to life without fearing it.Self-perspective patterns describe the quality of one’s relationship to self. This can involve living with persistent feelings of fear, shame, and humiliation. Healing from this kind of self-perspective is a slow, yet foundational goal for resolving the impact of developmental trauma.

Traumatic experiences during childhood and adolescent development can have a distinct shaping influence on the rest of one’s life.

I have come to rely on the following four principles to guide how I support change in these patterns:

1) Build a secure relationship foundation

A common factor for effective counselling work is the quality of the relationship between counsellor and client. Building a secure, nurturing, helping relationship becomes the initial task and is the foundation upon which all other ongoing counselling work rests. It’s not unusual for much of the time spent with a client who experienced developmental trauma to revolve around building, monitoring, and repairing this foundation. The steps can seem simple, yet they can have a profoundly powerful impact on the quality of your working relationship.

Building a secure, nurturing, helping relationship becomes the initial task and is the foundation upon which all other ongoing counselling work rests. 

2) Create developmental bridges

It can be helpful to watch for times when these gaps show up in how a client responds or utters a belief about themselves and to use gentle observation and curious questions to build bridges that allow the client to grow this capacity.

3) Develop a positive connection to the body

It can be very helpful to practice noticing these small physical shifts with clients when they are not in a full alarm response. The body can become a scary place for a trauma survivor. Our goal is to rediscover and re-inhabit the body as a safe home base.

4) Order the story across time

We don’t have to go through every part of the story, and indeed, the client may not have access to all of their memories, particularly when events happened at very early ages. If we can help find the language or expression of the parts of the memory they are aware of in a way that feels experience-near enough for a client, this process allows a fuller and more integrated record to be stored in their memory. Once a person is able to face and work with even one piece of their experience, with support to understand it outside of the panic of survival, they have the tools to allow the other pieces to fall into place.

The healing journey from developmental trauma is often long and winding.

The healing journey from developmental trauma is often long and winding. A person can slowly untangle the impacts of their trauma to fill in the developmental gaps that were left along the way as they struggled to just survive. As a companion on one small part of this journey, I have learned to trust the process of following the guiding principles described in this blog. Often, the steps are small and subtle. However, as the pieces of long-held memories can be placed in their past, clients can start to engage with their present up to their full potential. Rather than just surviving in spite of fear and helplessness, they can live their way into a future with more choice and joy.

For more FREE RESOURCES on this topic and others, visit our free resources page.

Author: Vicki Enns (MMFT, RMFT)
Clinical Director, Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute

Vicki co-author of CTRI’s book, Counselling Insights: Practical Strategies for Helping Others with Anxiety, Trauma, Grief, and More. The book is available on our website.

To receive notification of a new blog posting, follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn.
© CTRI Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute (www.ctrinstitute.com)
Interested in using the content of this blog? Learn more here. 

The post 4 Ways to Help Others Overcome Developmental Trauma appeared first on Crisis and Trauma Resource Institute.

The Spaces Between Us – Two Voices on Reconciliation

These are the personal reflections of Noela Crowe-Salazar and Vicki Enns, intended to help one another tap into resiliency by...

The Spaces Between Us – Two Voices on Reconciliation

These are the personal reflections of Noela Crowe-Salazar and Vicki Enns, intended to help one another tap into resiliency by walking toward reconciliation and healing together.

Click below to listen to Noela and Vicki.

[Noela] I am a citizen of Cowessess First Nation in Treaty Four territory. I am a Sixties Scoop survivor, and my father attended Lebret Residential School in Saskatchewan starting in the late 1930s.

[Vicki] I am a woman with white skin and a descendant of prairie settler farmers from Saskatchewan, in Treaty Six territory . I am a treaty land citizen, currently residing in Treaty One territory , and Noela’s Canadian prairie neighbour. In my professional work, I spend a lot of time walking with people on the path of trauma healing and resilience.

[Noela] In the summer of 2021, the news of unmarked graves at the sites of several former residential schools was deeply distressing for many Canadians. For former students and their families, it triggered past traumas and instilled feelings of anger or shame – anger at the outrage without the rage that went on for years, as many First Nations people already knew about these unmarked graves; and shame over the indecencies that occurred at many of the schools and the resulting intergenerational trauma.

[Vicki] When these stories reached the mainstream media, there were multilayered responses from non-Indigenous people – shock, sadness, surprise, denial, anger, grief, doubt, helplessness, and motivation to do something to name a few. A vast array of responses spilled out on social media, as well as in community conversations and the private echo chambers of people’s minds. Some non-Indigenous people seemed to reel and struggle to respond; others were not as surprised, aware of the violent history; for some it was a revelation to a hidden truth.

[Noela] On June 24th, 2021, Cowessess First Nation announced that there were 751 unmarked graves at the site of the former Marieval Residential School. I was delivering an online trauma training when I heard the news, and I immediately felt shocked – I was disturbed by this feeling because I had already been aware of these unmarked graves for several years. I also knew that my birth mother was buried adjacent to that site, so I reached out to CTRI, and the training was postponed considering the news.

Over the next few days, I felt aspects of trauma and grief. I was able to take time away from my routine work, and I responded to friends and others who were former students at residential schools in Treaty Four. Being trauma aware, I tried to let my feelings be, accepting them and letting them flow without stopping anything that came up. I held curiosity and tried to meditate, but I couldn’t focus. If I had to pick a colour to represent my feelings, it would be red – a deep, dark red. While red is described by some nêhiyawak knowledge keepers as the colour of our people, the nêhiyawak people, for me it expressed a feeling I could not come to terms with or readily identify.

If I had to pick a colour to represent my feelings, it would be red – a deep, dark red. 

I went to a few counselling sessions, which helped me identify my feeling as rage. Rage. I was appalled to consider that this was what I was feeling, and my inability to accept this emotion also meant I wasn’t processing it. It filled my entire body in complete silence. Rage is one of the most insidious feelings we can experience. It reminds me of a sinister shadow, lurking but so deeply silent that we cannot be fully aware of its presence.

[Vicki] A swell of sadness came over me as I heard the news. It was followed by rumbling waves of multiple tangled emotions: anger, shame, and anticipation of all the complex reactions this would stir in people. I felt a deep compassion for those impacted by residential schools, anticipating that this would trigger and resurface many memories. There was a sense of a secret being popped – a long held truth that came to the surface. And an almost disturbing, numbed sense of non-surprise.

I could feel a pull to shut down and blunt the impact of the stories and the conflict because I could sense a different level of collective anger. There was also a sharpened awareness of the importance of staying “awake” to this. I remember thinking people are thawing from the frozen silence of trauma, and that we are going to really feel this. But the presence of strong emotion is a sign of health.

I listened to Chief Cadmus Delorme from Cowessess First Nation speak to reporters and felt gratitude toward the strength, the leadership, and the movement underway. Similar to Noela’s processing, I tried to let the feelings just be while remaining aware of my breath and opening my chest, my lungs, my heart, and my mind – taking in more breath and exhaling to let things move. 

One of the deepest scars from this residential school trauma has been the culture of silence it has created in many First Nations families and communities.

[Noela] One of the deepest scars from this residential school trauma has been the culture of silence it has created in many First Nations families and communities.

When I was in my twenties, I met my birth father. I can still see his sunlit face as he walked up to my house, about to meet me for the first time. He brought me a blanket as a gift. I hadn’t seen him since I was two months old.

My dad has been the light in my life – I would not be the person I am today if it weren’t for him. Although he says he’s not traditional, it’s clear he has had good parenting skills with me, and he relays them in a way we now describe as “traditional parenting.”

My dad handled my adoption reunion like an expert extremely well versed in carrying out such an event. He easily instilled acceptance in an adult who has experienced childhood trauma and abandonment, and I’m fortunate enough to have been blessed to have him as my parent for more than half my life now. Our experience, however, has been largely silent.

[Vicki] Silence toward the broken promises and fractured relationships has been the loudest response from non-Indigenous people for many decades. I think many of us don’t want to believe that such horrible stories can be true; some do believe and want things to be better. Others carry a knowing that has been numbed by helplessness. Their guilt causes the stories of buried children to feel like a slap in the face, resonating with a pang of recognition held deep in their bodies.

Silence toward the broken promises and fractured relationships has been the loudest response from non-Indigenous people for many decades.

I think silence is often meant to be protective, but it can also be disconnecting. I felt this disconnection while growing up, living as a neighbour to many Indigenous people but having almost no sense of who they were or their stories – and my own community silently endorsed this as “normal.” The silence amplified difference, separation, and avoidance.

[Noela] Within weeks of our reunion, my dad took me to the site of Lebret Residential School and the graveyard at Piapot First Nation. He told me that children died, but he did not know what happened to them. I felt the depth of his statement, hearing it in his tone and seeing the pain in his expression. We never spoke of it again.

Why is there a culture of silence?

This question came up last year with an Elder from a neighbouring community to my dad’s. In the 1930s and 40s, the priests and the Indian agents had enormous control over what happened on a First Nation. If any of the abuses that occurred were shared, families or individuals could be punished. The Elder I spoke with said that her mother told her, “We don’t talk about that.” She reflected on how that one sentence impacted her life and her early years of being a parent, and how it still impacts her family today.

The silence runs even deeper, all the way down to the acts of physical and sexual violence that occurred at many of the former residential schools. In The Education of Augie Merasty, the author is clear that the children knew what was happening. The depth of that silence is terrifying to me. It’s terrifying because I regularly sit with people who have been deeply impacted for several generations by the abuses that began in these schools. I see the damage it has done. I sit with parents and families who, on the surface, lose their children by drug overdoses or suicide, but the real causes are the atrocities that occurred in the residential schools, which have been exacerbated by a deafening culture of silence among our people.

I have learned to accept the silence and trauma of my own family experience and the experiences of others by the gift of sitting with First Nations individuals and families who are on their healing journeys. I processed the rage I felt last summer by remembering my dad and his stories. I recognized the need to feel the grief of his experience and accept it meant he could not be my dad for all my life, but he has been my father in a way that has been meaningful to us for over half my life now. I took time to reflect on silence, and how silence during ceremony or in meditation is healing.

[Vicki & Noela] “Silence has two sides.”

[Vicki] This phrase rings true in my core. Silence can protect us from the threat of knowing, and can possibly evade further unwanted attention. It can carry the hope that things will improve, and that we can potentially reach another side without seeing, hearing, or feeling it fully. Silence shows up in so many stories of trauma – of resilience – as a way to survive.

Silence shows up in so many stories of trauma – of resilience – as a way to survive.

However, silence over time becomes a contraposition. It starts to do the opposite of protection. It’s like a fluffy packing foam around truths in our minds, hearts, and bodies. Over time, we mistake the packing foam for our real thoughts and feelings, and we are left numb. There is always pressure in the silence – pressure that comes to the surface until we choke on its need to get out.

[Noela] I know that trauma lives in our body, in our central nervous system. I have learned most of my triggers to the past and can often readily resume coming to a point of feeling well and good. At times, I can feel like a child. I learned from my adoption record (post child apprehension) and my dad (preapprehension) that I was moved seven times during the first year of my life. It’s an unconscious trauma that doesn’t have any memory, but it has been a work in progress for me for several decades now.

When I hear news like the unmarked graves or the more recent apology from the Pope, I give that ambulant child some space. I let her do some writing, or I walk and have a talk with her. And when I finally open my door to come home, I say, “It’s not your fault you were moved so many times in your first year, and you are loveable.”

[Vicki] Healing happens in steps and stages. Thawing from frozen silence can happen in many ways – it is an act of self-respect and self-care to take it slowly and allow nurture, connection, and time to be there alongside the emotions, memories, and beliefs that emerge. In this way, all the different parts and memories can find their way into a fully connected sense of self.

This process is true for all of us. We are all a part of this history and this present, myself included as I work on this piece. I read a small amount, reflect, and write a small amount. Then I find my attention has jumped elsewhere. I check an email, or I get up and move to a different room before realizing I’m walking in another direction. Allowing myself time to sleep, to move closer, then move away from this process has created the opportunity to digest and navigate some of my own thoughts and feelings. There is still much to understand; much to learn; much to heal. I feel immense gratitude to Noela, for her strength, her vulnerability, and her openness.

[Noela] On June 30th, 2021, my first grandchild was born. In Kylen is strength. With his birth, I was more able to let go of the rage I felt earlier that month. In his first weeks of life, I made sure I was present with him daily. I whispered our story to him while his parents took reprieve from sleep deprivation and napped. I played him songs in Cree and took great healing in holding him while he slept. He is a gift from the Creator. In him and the generation before us is our strength and revitalization. But it is not just in isolation of the new generation. I talk of the space between Kylen’s future grandchildren and my great grandfather Megwan. I hold responsibility now to all those generations.

I find great peace in knowing that we all hold responsibility for the spaces between us, our great grandparents, and the grandchildren of our own grandchildren.

I find great peace in knowing that we all hold responsibility for the spaces between us, our great grandparents, and the grandchildren of our own grandchildren. Each step I take must be in respect to each of these generations. To me, that means I choose what I do daily and how I give back. I share our experience not for what I gain, but for the seed of hope or understanding it may grow in others. Most of all, I hold gratitude – and at moments when I feel low, I put a gratitude jar on the counter and let my teenagers and I fill it for a few weeks. Most recently, we are grateful for Fortnite, for music, and I said I am grateful for the 1:00 AM just-because phone calls from my now 20-year-old son because they remind me that I am still needed.

[Vicki] “W e all hold responsibility for the spaces between us.” 

Amen to that. Ekosi.

For more FREE RESOURCES on this topic and others, visit our free resources page.

Authors: Noela Crowe-Salazar (MSW, RSW), Trainer, CTRI and Vicki Enns (MMFT, RMFT), Clinical Director, CTRI

Noela and Vicki are co-authors of CTRI’s book, Counselling in Relationships –  Insights for Helping Families Develop Healthy Connections. The book is available on our website.

To receive notification of a new blog posting, subscribe to our newsletter or follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn.
© CTRI Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute (www.ctrinstitute.com)
Interested in using the content of this blog? Learn more here.

The post The Spaces Between Us – Two Voices on Reconciliation appeared first on Crisis and Trauma Resource Institute.

The Spaces Between Us – Reflections on Reconciliation

These are the personal reflections of Noela Crowe-Salazar and Vicki Enns, intended to help one another tap into resiliency by walking toward reconciliation and healing together.

Click below to listen to Noela and Vicki.

[Noela] I am a citizen of Cowessess First Nation in Treaty Four territory. I am a Sixties Scoop survivor, and my father attended Lebret Residential School in Saskatchewan starting in the late 1930s.

[Vicki] I am a woman with white skin and a descendant of prairie settler farmers from Saskatchewan, in Treaty Six territory . I am a treaty land citizen, currently residing in Treaty One territory , and Noela’s Canadian prairie neighbour. In my professional work, I spend a lot of time walking with people on the path of trauma healing and resilience.

[Noela] In the summer of 2021, the news of unmarked graves at the sites of several former residential schools was deeply distressing for many Canadians. For former students and their families, it triggered past traumas and instilled feelings of anger or shame – anger at the outrage without the rage that went on for years, as many First Nations people already knew about these unmarked graves; and shame over the indecencies that occurred at many of the schools and the resulting intergenerational trauma.

[Vicki] When these stories reached the mainstream media, there were multilayered responses from non-Indigenous people – shock, sadness, surprise, denial, anger, grief, doubt, helplessness, and motivation to do something to name a few. A vast array of responses spilled out on social media, as well as in community conversations and the private echo chambers of people’s minds. Some non-Indigenous people seemed to reel and struggle to respond; others were not as surprised, aware of the violent history; for some it was a revelation to a hidden truth.

[Noela] On June 24th, 2021, Cowessess First Nation announced that there were 751 unmarked graves at the site of the former Marieval Residential School. I was delivering an online trauma training when I heard the news, and I immediately felt shocked – I was disturbed by this feeling because I had already been aware of these unmarked graves for several years. I also knew that my birth mother was buried adjacent to that site, so I reached out to CTRI, and the training was postponed considering the news.

Over the next few days, I felt aspects of trauma and grief. I was able to take time away from my routine work, and I responded to friends and others who were former students at residential schools in Treaty Four. Being trauma aware, I tried to let my feelings be, accepting them and letting them flow without stopping anything that came up. I held curiosity and tried to meditate, but I couldn’t focus. If I had to pick a colour to represent my feelings, it would be red – a deep, dark red. While red is described by some nêhiyawak knowledge keepers as the colour of our people, the nêhiyawak people, for me it expressed a feeling I could not come to terms with or readily identify.

If I had to pick a colour to represent my feelings, it would be red – a deep, dark red. 

I went to a few counselling sessions, which helped me identify my feeling as rage. Rage. I was appalled to consider that this was what I was feeling, and my inability to accept this emotion also meant I wasn’t processing it. It filled my entire body in complete silence. Rage is one of the most insidious feelings we can experience. It reminds me of a sinister shadow, lurking but so deeply silent that we cannot be fully aware of its presence.

[Vicki] A swell of sadness came over me as I heard the news. It was followed by rumbling waves of multiple tangled emotions: anger, shame, and anticipation of all the complex reactions this would stir in people. I felt a deep compassion for those impacted by residential schools, anticipating that this would trigger and resurface many memories. There was a sense of a secret being popped – a long held truth that came to the surface. And an almost disturbing, numbed sense of non-surprise.

I could feel a pull to shut down and blunt the impact of the stories and the conflict because I could sense a different level of collective anger. There was also a sharpened awareness of the importance of staying “awake” to this. I remember thinking people are thawing from the frozen silence of trauma, and that we are going to really feel this. But the presence of strong emotion is a sign of health.

I listened to Chief Cadmus Delorme from Cowessess First Nation speak to reporters and felt gratitude toward the strength, the leadership, and the movement underway. Similar to Noela’s processing, I tried to let the feelings just be while remaining aware of my breath and opening my chest, my lungs, my heart, and my mind – taking in more breath and exhaling to let things move. 

One of the deepest scars from this residential school trauma has been the culture of silence it has created in many First Nations families and communities.

[Noela] One of the deepest scars from this residential school trauma has been the culture of silence it has created in many First Nations families and communities.

When I was in my twenties, I met my birth father. I can still see his sunlit face as he walked up to my house, about to meet me for the first time. He brought me a blanket as a gift. I hadn’t seen him since I was two months old.

My dad has been the light in my life – I would not be the person I am today if it weren’t for him. Although he says he’s not traditional, it’s clear he has had good parenting skills with me, and he relays them in a way we now describe as “traditional parenting.”

My dad handled my adoption reunion like an expert extremely well versed in carrying out such an event. He easily instilled acceptance in an adult who has experienced childhood trauma and abandonment, and I’m fortunate enough to have been blessed to have him as my parent for more than half my life now. Our experience, however, has been largely silent.

[Vicki] Silence toward the broken promises and fractured relationships has been the loudest response from non-Indigenous people for many decades. I think many of us don’t want to believe that such horrible stories can be true; some do believe and want things to be better. Others carry a knowing that has been numbed by helplessness. Their guilt causes the stories of buried children to feel like a slap in the face, resonating with a pang of recognition held deep in their bodies.

Silence toward the broken promises and fractured relationships has been the loudest response from non-Indigenous people for many decades.

I think silence is often meant to be protective, but it can also be disconnecting. I felt this disconnection while growing up, living as a neighbour to many Indigenous people but having almost no sense of who they were or their stories – and my own community silently endorsed this as “normal.” The silence amplified difference, separation, and avoidance.

[Noela] Within weeks of our reunion, my dad took me to the site of Lebret Residential School and the graveyard at Piapot First Nation. He told me that children died, but he did not know what happened to them. I felt the depth of his statement, hearing it in his tone and seeing the pain in his expression. We never spoke of it again.

Why is there a culture of silence?

This question came up last year with an Elder from a neighbouring community to my dad’s. In the 1930s and 40s, the priests and the Indian agents had enormous control over what happened on a First Nation. If any of the abuses that occurred were shared, families or individuals could be punished. The Elder I spoke with said that her mother told her, “We don’t talk about that.” She reflected on how that one sentence impacted her life and her early years of being a parent, and how it still impacts her family today.

The silence runs even deeper, all the way down to the acts of physical and sexual violence that occurred at many of the former residential schools. In The Education of Augie Merasty, the author is clear that the children knew what was happening. The depth of that silence is terrifying to me. It’s terrifying because I regularly sit with people who have been deeply impacted for several generations by the abuses that began in these schools. I see the damage it has done. I sit with parents and families who, on the surface, lose their children by drug overdoses or suicide, but the real causes are the atrocities that occurred in the residential schools, which have been exacerbated by a deafening culture of silence among our people.

I have learned to accept the silence and trauma of my own family experience and the experiences of others by the gift of sitting with First Nations individuals and families who are on their healing journeys. I processed the rage I felt last summer by remembering my dad and his stories. I recognized the need to feel the grief of his experience and accept it meant he could not be my dad for all my life, but he has been my father in a way that has been meaningful to us for over half my life now. I took time to reflect on silence, and how silence during ceremony or in meditation is healing.

[Vicki & Noela] “Silence has two sides.”

[Vicki] This phrase rings true in my core. Silence can protect us from the threat of knowing, and can possibly evade further unwanted attention. It can carry the hope that things will improve, and that we can potentially reach another side without seeing, hearing, or feeling it fully. Silence shows up in so many stories of trauma – of resilience – as a way to survive.

Silence shows up in so many stories of trauma – of resilience – as a way to survive.

However, silence over time becomes a contraposition. It starts to do the opposite of protection. It’s like a fluffy packing foam around truths in our minds, hearts, and bodies. Over time, we mistake the packing foam for our real thoughts and feelings, and we are left numb. There is always pressure in the silence – pressure that comes to the surface until we choke on its need to get out.

[Noela] I know that trauma lives in our body, in our central nervous system. I have learned most of my triggers to the past and can often readily resume coming to a point of feeling well and good. At times, I can feel like a child. I learned from my adoption record (post child apprehension) and my dad (preapprehension) that I was moved seven times during the first year of my life. It’s an unconscious trauma that doesn’t have any memory, but it has been a work in progress for me for several decades now.

When I hear news like the unmarked graves or the more recent apology from the Pope, I give that ambulant child some space. I let her do some writing, or I walk and have a talk with her. And when I finally open my door to come home, I say, “It’s not your fault you were moved so many times in your first year, and you are loveable.”

[Vicki] Healing happens in steps and stages. Thawing from frozen silence can happen in many ways – it is an act of self-respect and self-care to take it slowly and allow nurture, connection, and time to be there alongside the emotions, memories, and beliefs that emerge. In this way, all the different parts and memories can find their way into a fully connected sense of self.

This process is true for all of us. We are all a part of this history and this present, myself included as I work on this piece. I read a small amount, reflect, and write a small amount. Then I find my attention has jumped elsewhere. I check an email, or I get up and move to a different room before realizing I’m walking in another direction. Allowing myself time to sleep, to move closer, then move away from this process has created the opportunity to digest and navigate some of my own thoughts and feelings. There is still much to understand; much to learn; much to heal. I feel immense gratitude to Noela, for her strength, her vulnerability, and her openness.

[Noela] On June 30th, 2021, my first grandchild was born. In Kylen is strength. With his birth, I was more able to let go of the rage I felt earlier that month. In his first weeks of life, I made sure I was present with him daily. I whispered our story to him while his parents took reprieve from sleep deprivation and napped. I played him songs in Cree and took great healing in holding him while he slept. He is a gift from the Creator. In him and the generation before us is our strength and revitalization. But it is not just in isolation of the new generation. I talk of the space between Kylen’s future grandchildren and my great grandfather Megwan. I hold responsibility now to all those generations.

I find great peace in knowing that we all hold responsibility for the spaces between us, our great grandparents, and the grandchildren of our own grandchildren.

I find great peace in knowing that we all hold responsibility for the spaces between us, our great grandparents, and the grandchildren of our own grandchildren. Each step I take must be in respect to each of these generations. To me, that means I choose what I do daily and how I give back. I share our experience not for what I gain, but for the seed of hope or understanding it may grow in others. Most of all, I hold gratitude – and at moments when I feel low, I put a gratitude jar on the counter and let my teenagers and I fill it for a few weeks. Most recently, we are grateful for Fortnite, for music, and I said I am grateful for the 1:00 AM just-because phone calls from my now 20-year-old son because they remind me that I am still needed.

[Vicki] “W e all hold responsibility for the spaces between us.” 

Amen to that. Ekosi.

For more FREE RESOURCES on this topic and others, visit our free resources page.

Authors: Noela Crowe-Salazar (MSW, RSW), Trainer, CTRI and Vicki Enns (MMFT, RMFT), Clinical Director, CTRI

Noela and Vicki are co-authors of CTRI’s book, Counselling in Relationships –  Insights for Helping Families Develop Healthy Connections. The book is available on our website.

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Supporting Autonomy – Ethics in Counselling

A strong ethical foundation is an important part of any counselling work. It allows counsellors and helpers to be the best version of themselves because they are being proactive in creating a positive environment for those they support.

Although ethics are mostly regarded as a set of rules that describe what should be avoided in the counselling context (e.g., financial exploitation, inappropriate relationships), they provide important boundaries to protect the well-being of the people we support and ensure we’re working within the parameters of our role.

Consider Ethics From a Positive Perspective

What if we chose to focus on ethics for the aspirational purpose they are meant to serve? To provide us with guidance on where to go, helping us choose our questions and interventions that support broader healing and growth. This approach is often referred to as a positive perspective toward ethics.

Ethical practice in counselling is built on common principles that reflect shared values in the helping professions. These are often listed as the foundational principles of autonomy, justice, beneficence (prioritizing the best interests of the client), non-maleficence (do no harm), loyalty, and honesty.

To make ethics a part of our everyday work as counsellors in a way that builds our confidence and deepens the effectiveness of the work we do – we need to unpack these aspirational concepts into practical steps.

Let’s start with Autonomy.

Autonomy expresses the aspiration to protect the independence of those we support, enabling them to make their own decisions for their lives.

Autonomy

The principle of autonomy expresses the aspiration to protect the independence of those we support, enabling them to make their own decisions for their lives. It highlights respect for individual values and beliefs that can guide people to use their voice to express themselves and make choices. This is a core developmental task for any person to become more attuned to their own values, and to chart a course for their life in the broader context of also respecting the rights and values of others. Autonomy requires building capacity and skill to make one’s own rational and grounded decisions.

Case Study: Layla

Layla began coming to counselling as a young adult. She was seeking support around increasing anxiety which was causing her a lot of distress in many areas of her life. Layla had recently moved out of her parents’ home and was both excited and overwhelmed by this new chapter. Clearly autonomy was something she was actively developing as she navigated the world on her own. Often when her anxiety levels would spike, several friends and family members would encourage her to return to her parents’ home. Layla was adamant that she did not want to do this, although she did greatly value regular phone calls with her parents as they helped her manage daily challenges. However, she struggled with self- doubt about her decision-making and worried that she couldn’t make it on her own.

Initially, supporting Layla seemed straightforward. Her goal to be more confident and independent from her family was supported by her age and stage of life. However, I realized that it would also be easy for me to slip into the role of an “older sister” by giving her advice or a “best friend” who simply cheers on her every thought, encouraging her to do her own thing. To hold true to the principle of autonomy, I needed a more thoughtful approach.

Using curious, open-ended questions that don’t lead the person anywhere in particular encourages them to explore their own thoughts and feelings.

Strategies to build autonomy: Be curious and ask lots of questions from different perspectives.

It’s common to feel pressure about decisions from many sources, including family, society, and even ourselves – whether we intend it or not. Using curious, open-ended questions that don’t lead the person anywhere in particular encourages them to explore their own thoughts and feelings. By finding their own words, they will be better equipped to navigate their own feelings around a decision and recognize which ones are guided by what they think others want to hear.

As I asked Layla what she thought about certain situations in her life, she often responded quickly with “I have no idea . . .” She became accustomed to my prompts to take a few moments to consider how she felt and say whatever came to mind. Then I’d wait.

Take your client’s thoughts and emotions seriously – and help the client do the same.

When someone feels pressured to act or think a certain way, whether self-imposed or from others, they may be hesitant to move out of the familiar. It can feel risky and awkward to try something different for those who aren’t used to voicing their own preferences.

As Layla started to describe her own experience more, she often became embarrassed, quickly apologizing for her “silly thoughts” and dismissing her own emotions as “too wild and out of control.” One of our favourite practices became asking, “What if we took that emotion or thought seriously? What does it have to tell you?” This was one way we could practice giving her thoughts and feelings centre stage while also taking the time to explore them.

Notice connections to values.

True autonomy happens when we become aware and attuned to our own values. This allows us to make choices that are rooted in our personal value system and broader sense of purpose. By listening carefully for statements or words that link to values, we can support people to not just follow surface rules or whims, but rather feel a deeper connection between themselves and their choices.

As Layla struggled with decisions, she often spoke of hearing her grandmother’s voice, giving her teachings, and telling her stories. Together we named the importance of continuing family and cultural teachings as a core value for Layla. She came to realize that as much as she wanted independence, this didn’t mean she wanted to disconnect from her heritage. She was finding her own way to live it out in her daily life.

Broaden the frame to inquire about the person’s relationships.

A simple approach to autonomy may mean asking people what they want to do and validating their choices. This can create a clearer sense of self-determination. To follow a more positive ethic approach and explore autonomy more deeply, we can also broaden the frame around our conversations. This might mean asking about the relationships that matter to the person.

With Layla, this meant exploring how she anticipated her parents and grandparents would respond to her decisions. We regularly imagined her various friends and how they would question or encourage her. This allowed Layla to more deeply think through decisions she would feel good about, and it anchored her self-determination within her relationships which were central to her values.

Consider our own feelings, beliefs, and values.

When we make space for people to explore their own ideas, emotions, and values, it inevitably stirs up our own. It’s completely normal and expected that our clients won’t always make choices we would make for ourselves. We may find ourselves holding very different values and opinions. This is when I find the ethical principles particularly helpful to keep me grounded and clear.

When we make space for people to explore their own ideas, emotions, and values, it inevitably stirs up our own.

Layla held many beliefs and preferences that differ from my own, and at times her choices seemed to me to be constraining, and perhaps limiting what she could be discovering in life and herself. However, by following the above steps, I was able to distinguish when my own doubts or pushback were really coming from my own preferences and did not belong in the conversation around Layla’s choices. A fascinating benefit of this kind of work is that I sometimes felt challenged by Layla, which allowed me to become even more clear on my own values, and how to live my life more autonomously and authentically connected. I found myself spending more time reflecting and remembering my grandmother’s teachings, and for that I am very grateful.

Ethics are more than just rules that we follow to ensure we aren’t doing anything wrong as counsellors or helpers. As a foundation to however we do our counselling work, ethical principles like autonomy can deepen our approach to ensure we are creating ethical counselling spaces.

This not only results in more ethical counselling – it can lead to much deeper growth and confidence in those we support, and in our own professional identity as ethical helpers.

Ethical principles like autonomy can deepen our approach to ensure we are creating ethical counselling spaces.

For more FREE RESOURCES on this topic and others, visit our free resources page.

Author: Vicki Enns (MMFT, RMFT)
Clinical Director, Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute

Vicki co-author of CTRI’s book, Counselling Insights: Practical Strategies for Helping Others with Anxiety, Trauma, Grief, and More. The book is available on our website.

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Additional Resources

Training Resources CTRI Online Training Resources: Online Workshop Training Guide Article by Wendy Loewen: 7 Steps to Prepare for a New...

Helping Refugees – Trauma and Transformation

With millions of people needing to flee their homes and seek refuge in other parts of the world, the stories of refugee individuals and families will interweave with people all over the world.  If you are one offering support in some fashion, how will your own story be influenced by theirs?

Many of us as helpers are familiar with stories of trauma, survival and recovery to different degrees.  However, the emerging stories of refugees bring unique layers of the need to transform lives. They also show sometimes surprising outcomes of resilience and change in anyone’s life that is touched by this endurance of the human spirit.

On top of universal human themes of seeking safety, connection and security, the refugee story contains some very unique twists and turns.

On top of universal human themes of seeking safety, connection and security, the refugee story contains some very unique twists and turns.

The ground keeps moving.

Inherent in any refugee story is a trauma – a threat of loss.  However, there are many layers of threat within any one story, often with no clear beginning or end.  On the surface it would seem the threat ends once a person crosses the border away from violence and death.  However threat to one’s sense of self can be much more nuanced.

Having to make choices one never imagined as part of one’s future, giving up one’s job, home, school, friends, community, culture – indeed one’s identity – sweeps the carpet out from underneath.  Perhaps this is like an earthquake that doesn’t stop – the ground just keeps moving.

There is more than one “ground zero”.

The phrase “ground zero” is usually used to refer to the physical location closest to the most severe destruction from a disaster.  When there are many potential points of threat, however, the impact can come at many different points on the migration journey.

For many refugees, their experience of devastating impact began with anticipation of leaving and seeing their world change around them before they fled.  The migration experience itself carries multiple dangers and unexpected loss.  Arrival in a new place may not equal instant peace.  The shock of a new culture, new weather, new language and new roles can leave new waves and craters of change.

For many refugees, their experience of devastating impact began with anticipation of leaving and seeing their world change around them before they fled. 

Resilience emerging alongside the suffering.

The human spirit is determined and built to survive.  Refugee individuals and families are stretched and pulled – often bringing out untapped capacities and strengths.  The powerful anticipation of hope and change out of such devastating loss creates a crucible for emerging skills: pulling together with others to survive, courage to learn new skills and new language, incredible flexibility to consider new possible roles and ways of being, and a transformed sense of a much broader and bigger world.

Unique Effects on Helpers

Supporting people as they navigate these turbulent waters inevitably influences helpers as well.  If we are open-hearted at all, we will also feel the shock waves of change in our own lives.

We become more real.

There are many reasons people will be pulled to support and help refugees.  We all want to find hope and experience the fulfillment of our empathic motivation to be helpful.

However – to truly be a helpful catalyst toward positive change we need to get our own agenda out of the way.  We may not see gratitude, integration or change in the way we anticipate.  If we can bring true respect, compassion and trustworthiness, we may discover our own capacity for empathy and understanding expands.  We become more real through the relationship.

Discovering the bigger story.

Witnessing another’s story of trauma, loss or profound change inevitably influences us.  If we morbidly focus in on the devastation, the threat, the loss or despair we will also be crushed and potentially depleted.

The antidote is to keep moving through this chapter to the story of survival, perseverance, and what do people draw upon to take that next step.  Often the moments of triumph in a person’s story are not what or when we expect.  Be open to surprise. It’s those surprising small victories that are the bigger story.

Universal connection.

War divides us.  It draws attention to differences and points of departure between human beings.  The ongoing warring nature of the human species presents us with what might best be called a spiritual challenge.  Spiritual in the sense of how do we move toward what is life-giving?  Toward what unites us and can be meaningful across cultural, political and racial lines?

The challenge before us is to be willing to be open and intentional to learn from those most directly affected.

The challenge before us is to be willing to be open and intentional to learn from those most directly affected.  Can we face the full human experience from the horrific to the jubilant? Can we dare to make space for all of it and find those connections within ourselves?

As we pull together in support of people fleeing violence and loss, perhaps we will all discover surprising changes in our lives.  Instead of differences, we may find we actually need each other to make sense of it all and emerge stronger and more resilient from the effort.

For more FREE RESOURCES on this topic and others, visit our free resources page.

Author: Vicki Enns (MMFT, RMFT)
Clinical Director, Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute

Vicki is a co-author of CTRI’s latest book, Counselling in Relationships –  Insights for Helping Families Develop Healthy Connections. The book is available on our website.

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© CTRI Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute (www.ctrinstitute.com)
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Supporting Children in Times of Global Stress

Whether children hear the news directly or feel the impact of heightened strain through other people, they look to the adults around them to help make sense of their feelings and thoughts. With some thoughtful steps, we can support both ourselves and the children we care for to better manage the impact of the news and avoid being overwhelmed.

Here are seven tips and encouragements for adults who are supporting children through this time:

Listen first.

Creating opportunities for children to express emotions and ask questions can help them sort through the information they may be picking up. Let children take the lead in terms of what they need to talk about, and ask some curious questions.

What are they hearing? What are they wondering? What kind of feelings are they having? You don’t have to have all the answers, but being curious and accepting of their questions can help create a sense that they’re not alone in their thoughts and feelings.

In times of worry or fear, your grounded and attentive presence is more important than big answers.

Your presence and attention are key.

In times of worry or fear, your grounded and attentive presence is more important than big answers. You can strengthen this nonverbally by tuning in to the child’s facial expressions. Notice their body language, and consider your own by thinking about what helps you feel solid and grounded while you listen. Listen to more than words, and listen with more than your ears.

Acknowledge emotions and worries with age-appropriate information.

Young children might not even know about world events, but they do pick up on emotions and may use their imagination to fill in the story of what’s happening. It is okay to protect and buffer them from some of the harsh realities of life, but keep in mind they absorb what’s around them. Their emotions may come out in physical and behavioural responses, such as stomachaches or anxious reactions.

Remember that school-aged children talk with other kids and hear things from adults. Older youth may be discussing world events in their classrooms, as well as with their peers. And many families around the world have direct connections to what is happening in Ukraine and other places.

Validating emotions without needing to explain everything is an important initial step for helping children make sense of whatever they’re feeling. With older children and youth, it might be useful to talk to them about the social and political issues surrounding these events. The key is to know your child and create space for them to turn toward their emotions without amplifying them. Then be supportive by shifting their attention toward a sense of safety and security.

Validating emotions without needing to explain everything is an important initial step for helping children make sense of whatever they’re feeling.

Honesty is helpful.

Be careful of false reassurances: “Nothing bad will happen here, our family will always be safe.” We may want to say that, but how can we know it’s true? Honesty coupled with a sense of solid support actually builds a bigger capacity to tolerate difficult emotions: “I don’t know what’s going to happen next. Whatever happens, we will figure it out together, and I’ll take care of you.”

You may be experiencing your own big feelings, worries, and grief related to current events. Allowing children to see your authentic emotions and how you make sense of them also creates stronger skills for identifying and understanding the vast range of feelings we all can have.

Monitor social media use.

Today’s world provides us with information 24/7. It can be a tremendous gift and wonderful tool, but it can also be trouble. In cases of tragic events, children and youth can be overwhelmed by the amount of information they are exposed to (this is true for adults as well).

Make sure you and the children in your care take breaks from the constant barrage of information. Become discerning consumers of news stories by talking about the information with children and youth to help them know what is real, what is sensationalized, and when it’s time to turn it off or turn away.

Take care of yourself.

Tragedies can threaten our sense of safety and well-being. Maintaining your own mental health is crucial, so self-care should become a priority. Talk to others, and set aside a time and place away from your children to feel afraid and worried.

Also practice self-care with your children. Do activities that help you slow down and connect to what is nurturing and soothing. Also engage with activities that help release big emotions – loud music, active games, and expressing things creatively can all help.

Make sure you and the children in your care take breaks from the constant barrage of information.

Connect with positive actions.

Crises like the war in Ukraine can stop us in our tracks. They remind us of our mortality and of the changing nature of the world we live in. Yet we cannot allow our whole lives to be defined by the fear that may be generated. We need to continue to help our children (and ourselves) enjoy life and feel like we can affect change in our world. Staying connected to friends and family, engaging in school and extracurricular activities, and planning for the future are a few ways we can continue to enjoy and engage with life.

Focusing time and energy on positive actions in response to current events can underline the message that we all have a role to play in creating a world we want to live in. Crafting messages of support, expressing gratitude and appreciation within our relationships, and volunteering to help others in need are just a few possibilities of actions that connect to positive values we hope to promote and strengthen.

These are challenging times. Anxiety, worry, and grief are natural responses to tragic events. When we create a space in our relationships that is big enough for all of these feelings – as well as our hopes and beliefs about a more positive future – we support ourselves and our children to get through this together.

For more FREE RESOURCES on this topic and others, visit our free resources page.

Author: Vicki Enns (MMFT, RMFT)
Clinical Director, Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute

Vicki is a co-author of CTRI’s latest book, Counselling in Relationships –  Insights for Helping Families Develop Healthy Connections. The book is available on our website.

To receive notification of a new blog posting, follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn.
© CTRI Crisis & Trauma Resource Institute (www.ctrinstitute.com)
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