The service provider’s need for an understanding community

Photo by Sweet Life on Unsplash

I had an interesting conversation with someone this week about the support needs of those who work in service to others. For those who are - like me - a counselllor, or like you, perhaps a social worker or a public servant. We noticed that for those of us who are trauma-adjacent and work with those in great distress, the silent toll on the helper can particularly become evident when the helper goes through a life change or difficulty themselves.

My own experiences

When I think of my own experience, two recent sets of circumstances have had a profound impact on how my work goes on to take a toll on me.  The first was having a child, and so the impact of sleep deprivation and the enormous changes in priorities that happen to a person when we begin caring for an infant impacted me greatly.

Another event was developing sepsis as a consequence of a routine surgery. Whilst I have been fortunate to recover from this illness, some effects have not gone away even now, a year later, and my physical recovery has been frustratingly slow.

I silently carry these circumstances in every connection or communication that I make, and as a consequence, also bring them into my therapy. On one hand, I believe that this is no bad thing - I have lived through more life challenges, and this allows me to be an even more understanding and rounded human with broad human experiences. I understand the impact of a dynamic disability now in a way that I could not have before, and similarly, I now understand more deeply the impact of raising a child on individual identity and independence.

But these circumstances have also introduced a vulnerability to my practice that I believe that I have a responsibility to manage - I have to manage the availability of my emotional energy to ensure that I am resourced for my clients, and I also have to manage my physical symptoms as a consequence of my illness, to ensure that these do not distract me from my work. These elements and changes are not my fault, but they are my responsibility, and I carry them gladly.

Community for the caregiver

This brings me back to the role of community for the caregiver - to whom do we go to with our own issues when we notice that there is an accentuation or amplification of difficulty in our own lives, alongside witnessing our clients' struggles and suffering? The knee-jerk reaction here is, of course, clinical supervision, but what about when we need more connection? Few of us have an informal relationship with our supervisors; such is the nature of the professional relationship; however, we might feel more drawn to informal relationships for the processing of our day-to-day struggles as just another human in the world.

The second automatic response might also be to have “good boundaries”, and I agree, but I would also argue that we cannot be a totally robot-like separate self and remove ourselves from the issues of our clients - good boundaries are one thing, but good human-ing seems to me to involve simultaneously being a conscious being, aware of, impacted by and empathetic towards others in the world.

This original conversation was centred on the idea of the value of a supportive community for therapists and counsellors. The argument being that even though we are not sharing details of the work we are doing with friends or peers, we can nonetheless connect with them and find common ground through our shared experience of witnessing the human experience, all the while having our own troubles. We can offer knowing looks and supportive words. We can hold silence for those who need it, and we can understand the other’s drive to give to their clients, even though they might also need someone to give to them.

Personally, I think there is enormous value to this kind of supportive community that goes well beyond the experience of the easier to find peer supervision, but unfortunately, finding informal relationships with others with whom we can feel a shared experience as a psychotherapist or carer can be difficult.

What I’m doing about it

This year, I am going out of my way to try to build this very helpful network. If I see an opportunity to be with those who understand this work, then I try very hard to grasp it with both hands and welcome opportunities to connect. Even when it feels like a lot, or as though things are hard - I recognise the value in this space.

I’m scouring notice boards and email chains for the details of events that I know will bring other like-minded peers. I’m turning up to professional coffee calls to share with others who work in the same way as I do, and I’m being gentle with myself as I remind myself that this is sometimes a challenge, but in the words of Glennon Doyle, “we can do hard things”.

If you are a trusted listener, a carer, or someone in service to others, do you have a community that you can turn to in your more difficult moments as a professional and as a human?

I’d love to hear more about how you manage it in the comments.