I began riding the “trauma-informed care” wave three years prior to realizing I was part of something bigger than my own vision to bust open the conversation on trauma. When my life as a writer, editor, and advocate for parenting survivors of childhood abuse collided with my professional life as a mental health care manager, I knew the universe was trying to tell me something.
Having long ago succumbed to the realization that everything really does happen for a reason, I started to see my role in this movement unfolding. I was starting to understand my drive to read every article and study on trauma I could find, and eagerness to talk to every person I found with insight into resilience. Like at other times in my life, I felt a pull to put what I knew to be true into action. But how? And where?
I eventually realized I didn’t need to go looking for the where and the how. I was already right where I needed to be. I have worked in and around care management, residential care and substance abuse recovery my entire career; why not start exactly where I am?
The administrative team for the agency I work for had recently experienced a total overhaul due to the executive director of 30 years retiring. In his place, a driven woman with an open mind and a determination to bring the agency up to speed with modern times. A man who walked the walk when it comes to compassionately serving our population and empowering staff was now the deputy director. The support service director, a woman who I already knew to be a force for positive, foundational change was eager to put the human back in human services. Human resources was now overseen by a man who I knew “gets” the role trauma has in the lives of the people we serve, and has witnessed vicarious trauma in his previous position as operations supervisor of the care management team.
It felt right; the perfect time and place to put everything I had learned about ACEs, trauma, and resilience into motion at a grass roots level, which just so happens to be where I'm most comfortable. I just needed an opportunity educate others and to guide implementation of what I know. “Be the change you want to see” had always been a favorite quote of mine; it became my mantra.
The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Administration’s handbook on implementing TIC and every piece of literature I could find on the topic was my new obsession. I was determined to make sense of it all and teach myself what it means for the workforce. Over a two-month period, I sat at my kitchen table with papers surrounding my laptop and etched out information and stats that could help me make the argument for implementing TIC into the agency. I knew that requesting to meet with the ED so that I could suggest to her what the organization needed was a big risk. I was support staff, a care manager with very little alphabet soup following her name.
However risky, I knew I was justified in this proposal for several reasons: I had lived experience as a trauma-survivor, I had began making connections in the “TIC world” three years prior and knew I could build on those relationships to help make this all possible, and I had never been more passionate about anything in my life.
I requested fifteen minutes of the ED’s time and went into her office mentally prepared with research and stats on trauma-informed care. I consolidated the ridiculous number of lists, random facts, and notes I’d taken. I was prepared much like a entrepreneur headed to Shark Tank. What actually occurred when I sat down ended up not being a pitch as much as it was a conversation. A dialogue between two women about how we can make our residences safer, our services more compassionate, and our staff less stressed. I didn’t have to sell her the idea. All I needed to do was introduce her to the framework for providing services through a trauma-informed lens.
I was given the green light to keep this conversation going and start formulating a plan to roll this all out. I thanked her and tried to contain the ludicrous amount of joy I felt as I left her office. I called my writing partner and friend, Joyelle, on the way home from work and sobbed. She and I had devoted so much of ourselves to being agents of change over the past three years and I was overwhelmed by the events of that day. I didn’t even have to explain to her why this was so big to me. She knew. She knew the power of validation. She understood the potential for positive change that could come from one single agency among thousands being willing to disrupt the status quo and adapt trauma-informed care as a universal precaution.
The real work had just begun though. What is the first step in this process? Who do I turn to for guidance? What exactly does being a trauma-informed agency mean and look like? My brain was so full of information at that point and I had to figure out how to channel what I knew into actionable practice.
I welcomed and continue to look forward to the challenges this process entails. I knew then and fully understand now that I have a long, oftentimes overwhelming road ahead of me. Not only in identifying the logistics in all of this, but in carving out the time to do it without neglecting my fulltime role as a care manager, author, mom, wife and sane human being. This is no easy task. And I continuously learn the importance of balance and asking for help. One person can make a difference. It’s risky and scary and overwhelming at times, but possible none-the-less.
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Tell me, are you that person in your agency and/or community that initiated a TIC movement, or are you considering it? What are your fears, challenges and triumphs? And most importantly, how can I and others in this community support you?
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