Turning to Self-Care

Her screams were piercing. They echoed through the air as a siren would do to warn everyone of the danger quickly approaching. For being a girl nine years of age, those screams were formidable. She was not being injured. She was not in any pain. Her screams were those of distress. She did not want to enter the school because, for her, that meant leaving behind a sense of safety and security. It meant a dooming cloud of anxiety would engulf her in every sense. I learned about her history quickly, as any concerned person would do. Her biological parents suffered from substance use disorders and consequently abandoned her. She and her brother were left in the care of their grandmother. As a mental health professional, it was clear to me the behaviors we were witnessing were a result of the trauma she endured. She suffered from separation anxiety. Her screaming marked the first phase in a two-hour-long struggle to get her peacefully to class. After her grandmother was able to get her into the building, the staff and I painfully persevered through the yelling, the kicking, the hitting, the throwing, and the deprecating comments about our own character. This nine-year-old girl, who was known to be sweet, caring, and friendly by so many, was not herself. She was the victim of her own trauma.

In these moments of tribulation we experience as educators, there is a persistent question of willpower: Is it worth it?

Is the compassion fatigue worth it? Is the physical anguish worth it? Is the low income worth it? Any educator would tell you these questions linger in our minds not once but many times throughout our careers. The fairy tale answer would be a swift “YES,” but the realistic answer to these questions would be “not always.” The headache, the soreness and the diminished self-confidence I experienced with this nine-year-old was a testament to this.

Educators have to endure secondary traumatic stress (STS). The National Center on Safe and Supportive Learning Environments writes that educators often experience vicarious trauma, or STS, by hearing and witnessing the negative effects of trauma on students. This is often associated with increased levels of anxiety, fatigue, withdrawal, intrusive thoughts and hopelessness for those bearing witness to this trauma. Self-care strategies and plans are continuously encouraged in the field in order to save those of us who are drowning in compassion fatigue. It can feel utterly exhausting to always hear how important it is to self-care. In fact, I can hear the sighs and witness the eye rolls from educators who have to undergo yet another professional development workshop on self-care. Self-care is an experiential opportunity, not a lecture.

After the trials I faced with the nine-year-old, I finally realized how essential it was for me to prioritize my self-care. It was no longer something I could put on the back burner or hide in the hall closet. My purpose and meaning were buried in the vicarious trauma, and the only way I could return to my passion was by prioritizing my self-care experience. I started exercising regularly at the gym. I did not have any weight loss or muscle gain goal but simply to show up. The feeling of accomplishment filled my soul, knowing I was taking care of myself physically. The second experience was seeking out comforting activities, including sharing time with loved ones and visiting some of my favorite places in my city. These activities gave me the opportunity to remove myself mentally and physically from the stress. I was also grateful for the opportunity to take advantage of our Employee Assistance Program (EAP) to pursue counseling for myself. Initially, I felt embarrassed to do this because it seemed as though I was failing, but I felt so relieved to share my experiences with someone who then provided me with additional insights.

All of these self-care experiences unquestionably aided me in returning from the despair and sorrow I felt regarding my career decision. However, the unwavering truth of persevering through vicarious trauma is embracing the joy that surrounds us all. Shortly after being used as a human punching bag, I prioritized joy. I chose to share time with the students I would deny if anyone asked if they were my favorites. I would return a hug. I would let them show me their picture of a rainbow kitty cat. I would play a game of Uno with them. Sometimes, taking a step back from the constant physical and emotional demands to prioritize joy is the only answer. It reassures us of the meaning and purpose we have in our work as educators.

Read from our publication, KAPPAN, here: https://www.alphadeltakappa.org/ADK/ADKMembers/About/Publications/ADPublications.aspx?hkey=2e6d23ad-5b7b-4b97-83d6-eb092a7b848b