Yesterday my daughter told me about a stray dog that has been hanging outside her house; a little white and tan dog, lying on the red dirt, looking sad and sick. She had been observing the dog for a number of days, feeling worried for it, but was unsure to whom it belonged.
Being a caring soul who loves animals, she approached the dog to see if it was hurt. As she leaned in, her stomach turned as she saw that its ear was filled and bulging with ticks.
I could feel her wincing through the phone, as she shared this with me.
What to do to help this poor pooch?
She decided to contact the local parks and wildlife to see if there was anything that could be done. To her surprise, they were more than willing to help. She was so happy to be able to help this dog (she’s decided his name is 'Squid'), but even more delighted to know that there was someone on the other end of the phone who cared.
The moral of the story (besides a pooch with healthier, more hopeful prospects)?
Hope requires awareness, connection with presence, and action.
Hope is a verb.
Hope is what we all need right now - particularly with so many teachers, nurses and other helping professionals voting with their feet.
In recent interviews with teachers, nurses and allied health professionals I explored the challenges faced by those in helping roles. This informal interview process that generated ‘The Helping Professionals Interview Series’ helped to elucidate the following:
With such an alarming cluster of challenges it is easy to feel helpless and overwhelmed.
It is little wonder that we are on the brink of losing hope as evidenced by widespread exhaustion and burnout.
What do we do about this?
When there’s a sense of severed belonging, of disconnection, it undermines hope. It cuts us off from our full being-ness. It cuts us off from that field of possibility. Reconnecting with presence is a process that gives us hope.
There are many ways to think about hope.
In her book 'Dare to Lead', Brené Brown summarises hope in terms of the research of hope theorist, C.R. Snyder, as being a “cognitive emotional process that has three parts". These include:
However, when we are overwhelmed it can be tricky to access such a cognitive process. This is where a more philosophical, and trauma-informed approach can be helpful.
Tara Brach invites us to consider a 'mature' or 'holy' hope, described as “an attitude of the soul that’s open and receptive to how reality is unfolding through our unique human forms; being fully available to this life”.
Being fully available to possibility means connection, presence and an ability to sit with all that these bring - the good, the bad and the ugly.
Presence with pain is a gateway to hope; being with what’s real.
As explored in a previous blog, we spend a good deal of time disconnecting and separating from our experience in order to avoid pain. The more we do this, the more we struggle to feel safe, and enter into a place of fear and mistrust: otherwise known as survival mode (the ultimate hope eroder).
If presence and connection are a gateway to hope, we need to be able to sit with ourselves both in awe and pain.
How do we do this?
Notice what is happening in your body; your physical sensations; if you are numb or raging; if you are heavy or tense:
Notice what you are feeling:
Notice your thoughts and the stories you are telling yourself:
When you've had some time with yourself in these ways, ask yourself:
Take action to meet this need to care for yourself and your experience.
What is now possible?
Allow yourself to bring your awareness to the goodness around you - the small moments of joy, awe and beauty that are around every day even in the most difficult times:
As before, notice
Allow yourself to drink in the physical sensations of beauty, awe and appreciation.
Notice what these moments of light feel like so that you can return to them when you're in the dark.
Consider what is possible - even in the smallest way.
Perhaps now you are able to consider the more cognitive emotional process of hope:
Towards the end of last year, I met with a number of health and education professionals in an informal process to discuss how they manage their own wellbeing. We discussed what gets in the way of them maintaining their own self-care, and finding external help. Part one of this five-part blog series shares the key blockages to seeking support as experienced by these helping professionals.
The Helping Professionals Interview Series (Part 3): The Misnomer of Self Care
In this third piece of the five-part 'Helping Professionals Interview Series' , we explore the misnomer of ‘self care’ and its suggestion that individuals only hold responsibility for our wellbeing. In fact, the challenges are caused by modern Western society, its systems with ever-shifting policies and protocols, large workloads and insufficient support within our working environments. If you're exhausted and overwhelmed, it's not you: it's a set up.
From the first three parts of 'The Helping Professionals Interview Series' we've heard that teachers and health professionals struggle to reach out for support and care for themselves. Why is this? In this penultimate blog in the series, we hear through the voices of participants that the answer is tied up in societal messages that begin in childhood, and continue on through professional training and within workplace cultures.
Creative embodied group supervision for counsellors, therapists and allied health
Join a small group of peers to learn, explore, connect, express and reflect through shared discussion, music and creative arts experiences.
Tailored support to meet your needs and build inner resources for positive change.
The Helping Professionals Interview Series (Part 2): Blocks to Support Infographic
Through November – December in late 2021, I met with seventeen helping professionals from the following areas: nursing, teaching, music therapy, pharmacy, counselling, child and family therapy, social work and service management to discuss how they seek help or look after themselves when they are struggling. This infographic summarises key findings.
Header image: Mitch Hodge