Compassion: Before, During, and After

Compassion: Before, During, and After

John Paul Derryberry

*I received permission to write this blog from the client I talk about here.

They slumped in their chair, barely making eye contact, as they dejectedly ran through a series of I've said yes to these same questions a thousand times before. They forced a smile that felt miles away from what a smile is really supposed to communicate. When they stopped staring a hole through the table and looked around the room, they sized up everyone intently. They did not engage in a friendly taking the temperature of the room. Instead, they scanned it as if they were in a war zone and, to them, it probably was. They decided who was a threat, who was a push-over, and who was talking some bull shit. I would too, if I were them. Their family failed them and so did 23 other programs before they arrived in this room, at this table, with a bunch of people they didn't know promising them a bunch of stuff they couldn't deliver. 

It was then that I noticed the trauma. The client lifted their head off the table and I saw the scars. The deeply bruised, and thick hardening tissue on their  forehead. Much like an iceberg, this was only the tip of the trauma. They were attempting to process multiple events at the young age of 16. A single incident of this type of trauma would have broken anyone in the room. When one of my co-workers stated, this place will be different, we won't give up on you, the young person whispered, "We'll see!"  I chuckled because I was the only person in the room to catch the whisper. The youth flashed me a puzzled look and I smiled back.  I knew at that moment that this was going to be anything but easy.

I first witnessed someone bash their head through tile a week later. It was jarring, wild, and caused panic amongst everyone.  As I observed everyone's reactions, including my own and this client, I realized all the fear they caused was how they felt. I didn't know the next steps to diffuse this type of stuff, but any traditional response was out the window.  Trainers teach you to be caring, but caring runs out the door when you're covered in someone's blood. They teach you to be patient but that runs out quickly when someone acts out their trauma for hours. They say, remember your passion and why you do the job in the tough times, but when the tough time is never-ending, the well of passion can dry up quickly. Staff left in droves, refused to work and called for this person's dismissal.

During a tough night when staff, including me, did everything to keep the place safe, a light bulb went off. My footing slipped and this person and I fell hard to the ground. It would have been easy after four hours to say, if you had calmed down, we wouldn't have fallen. If you had listened, we wouldn't have been in this spot. I threw all that out the window at that moment. I looked at this person and said, "I'm sorry. I have to be better in this spot. It's my fault we fell over, I'll do better next time." They stopped dead in their tracks and asked why did I apologize when they were the one being violent. My reply shocked the room of staff and the client. I said, "because after everything you have been through, 23 programs, and all the trauma, it's your job to work this stuff out and it's my job to keep you safe during it. I didn't do my job correctly tonight, and I'll do better next time".

They stopped being violent for a moment and stated, that's the first time staff has apologized to me for screwing up. Another brilliant co-worker asked the perfect follow up question, "how many times do you think staff screws up and aren't sorry". They replied, a bunch.  I said, "that's horrible because I screw up all the damn time". They laughed and smiled with what I remember as the first genuine smile I had witnessed on them.  They sat down in the corner of their destroyed room and asked, what happens now?.

I replied, "I don't know. I have never been kicked out of 23 programs before. So maybe you have to fight us to see if we mean you get to stay. Perhaps you figure things out here, maybe you don't. There are some questions I don't have the answers to, but I would love to help you figure them out; that's when you decide I'm trustworthy. The client hugged us, thanked us, and requested we assist them in cleaning up the mess. All the staff chipped in, and by the time bedtime rolled around, we had cleaned up the emotional throw-up off of all of us.

I would love to say that was the last time this client was violent. It wasn't. I would like to say things went smoothly from then on out. They didn't. It would be great to answer that all the staff learned the lesson some of us had learned that day, but they didn't. But amazing things happened that night for those of us in that room. We learned that holding compassion for others before, during, and after a tumultuous event can be the light that carries us to the other side. It helped us remember that we have no clue about other people's experiences with racism, sexism, abuse, sexuality, or just plain awful circumstances. We learned that by just taking responsibility for our own actions during interactions with others, we could prevent a lot more trauma from occurring and stop a whole lot more from embedding deeper into our lives.

I have thought a lot about this person since the pandemic and police brutality crashed into each other. It has shown our society is not as compassionate as we thought. You might not believe that this story is related to our current situation, but in my head it is because the only path forward is: for people to start showing compassion for their neighbors; for police to be responsible for their actions just as much as citizens are for theirs; and for people to understand that the simple act of wearing a mask is not political but an act of compassion for those at high risk. All the greatest strategies in the world will fail until this fundamental truth is realized: a better society begins with compassion, carries it through in every decision, and keeps it close when things end.