Sticks and Stones...

Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me. Actually, no, broken bones heal easier than a broken spirit.

Trauma can come in many forms. Two of the most well known are physical and mental; broken bones and hurt feelings. Often, they come in a two-for-one bonus pack; the physical injury that knocks you off your feet, leaving you unable to live life as you had before, thus causing mental anguish. Often that anguish is caused by names we call ourselves; useless, careless, washed up, feeble, or labels others use: they’re not what they used to be, he’s lost a step, she can’t be relied on. Physical limits feed emotional stress, which feeds low self-esteem, which undermines our ability to heal. Yes, the old mind body connection.

The past few years have taught me that recovering from a physical injury, while certainly a challenge, was easier, or certainly simpler, than recovering from an emotional injury. Two years after my bike accident, I was feeling strong enough, physically and mentally, to return to work at a small business I’d been running for 20 years. My absence while on injured reserve had allowed the management team to step up into full leadership. This was a good thing, that I have to admit might not had happened had I been there hovering over them. With me out, it was sink or swim. And they swam.

So it wasn’t long (can you see what’s coming?) before the management and owners realized that I was no longer essential to the business. It was time to move on. Now I’ve always believed that good leaders should focus on developing their team, and be ready to step aside for the next generation to take the helm. However, it can be tricky, and the transition needs to be handled delicately as well as decisively.

 To me it felt, quite literally, that insult was added to injury. True, I was not needed any more, but it was so hard to hear. It wasn’t a matter of prestige, or power or money. I’m a very lucky man. I survived an accident that should have killed me. But when my value was questioned, and when I lost my sense of purpose and my professional community, it took a surprising toll.

 My physical health deteriorated too. I was more tired, less able to concentrate, bouts of dizziness increased and my ability to enjoy my truly blessed life was diminished.

So yes, sticks and stones (well actually a Ford Ranger) broke my bones, but it was the names that hurt me; the label I was given by others – unessential, and the name I called myself in my head – unwanted. I realized through all of this that my early writings in the wake of my accident were somewhat simplistic. I’d been badly injured, but with great treatment I healed quickly and saw tangible improvement every day. It seemed to me that with the right attitude and hard work, it was possible to recover, and even improve, after a trauma. I still believe that, but I’d underestimated the emotional side of the equation. And luckily I had great help with the emotional healing. Not only did I get great medical treatment, but I had a supportive community of family and friends, and brilliantly gifted physical and occupational therapists, who motivated and inspired me to keep going.

Veterans groups I work with often talk about the trauma of combat being much easier to manage than the trauma of leaving the military. That feeling of lack of purpose and meaning, the lack of community and a clear role that comes with the return to military life and with it, the absence of mission. A decorated helicopter pilot who flew many combat missions in Afghanistan, tells of his most difficult moment at the baggage carousel in his home town airport, in civilian clothing and not knowing what was next.

So what to make of this? Two things can really help.

Community - lean on your friends

I’ve always had a strong family and community so I never defined myself by my professional role alone. My job was an important element in my total makeup but it was one part of the whole. And while the loss of my business community, and the daily routines and relationships that provided was hard, I still had my friends and family who knew me and supported me through this transition. Just like they did when I was first physically injured. They were willing to listen. And they were willing to tell me when to shut up and move on. Not many of us are so self-reliant we can get through hard times alone.

Story - control your narrative

My psychologist, Dr. Carter, told me something very valuable. He said that while some people are defined by life’s challenges in a negative way; PTSD for example, for many others a trauma can be a positive turning point, from which you can reflect on who you are and what is important to you in life. Thinking and writing about your experience, during a challenging time, can be very rewarding. As long as you don’t slip into rumination. (I’ll admit to succumbing to that at times. Must be my Irish heritage!) I’ve always been a story teller, but understanding and telling your own story is a way to regain control. As my friends at Homefront Foundation tell their veteran brothers and sisters, “If you own your narrative, you can control your life.”