Help for the Helpers?

There are times in life when the Human Spirit becomes so damaged, so discouraged, by a traumatic event that it feels as though endless sleep would be a welcome relief to the awful memories of the event.  But what if every time we closed our eyes, the whole bad scene replays itself over and over to the effect that sleep is no longer possible?  It's normal to relive these things for a couple of weeks.  Maybe even a couple of months.  But when it doesn't stop and it affects one's ability to live at a so-called "normal" level, it become Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and it is life altering.

I have a friend, a former student that I will call "Amy".  Amy is in her mid-30s, with two middle-school-aged kids by other relationships and a toddler with her current spouse.  Since the last baby, she has been diagnosed with heart failure, rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia, and who knows what else.  She can't work anymore, so she and the whole family--including her live-in mother--depends on the income of her wife who works two jobs to keep them all afloat.  And with all of these people come their pets:  wife's pitbulls, Mom's dog, another family dog, and a couple of cats.  I came in Amy's life a year or two ago when someone posted that the family needed help with meals because of her disabilities and her wife's inability to cook due to time constraints with her two jobs.  I have provided meals for her and her family, plus we have met once a month for a Girls' Lunch Out.

Last evening, Amy messaged me that she and her family had been through a seriously traumatic event and that she couldn't "get past it".  There is so much drama with her crew that I wondered to myself, how bad can it be?  Well...bad.  Here is what she wrote:

Our pit bulls attacked my mom’s dog today. Mom and I tried to get them off him and couldn’t. I was dragged across the yard by them and covered in his blood, used my cane, threw bricks...all to no avail. They killed him.

My kids are so scared of them they had Belle’s dad come get them and are sleeping there. Adam witnessed me being dragged and hysterically cried, saying he didn’t want to see his mommy die. I can’t even begin to describe how terrible it all has been. Every time I close my eyes I see him and I keep hearing his yelps and my mom screams.

There was more, but it was all I needed to hear. I wasn't there. I didn't see it. I didn't experience it. And yet I was horrified for those who did. This is the stuff of nightmares. As an animal lover, I was traumatized just by hearing the story--for them, and for the dogs. There are no happy endings to this story. The whole family, and extended relatives as a result, are traumatized. All I could say to Amy was that I felt for them all...was so sorry for the whole thing...and hoped she could get some rest. Talk about feeling helpless!!

The pit bulls will be surrendered to the Humane Society because there really are no other options. I hurt for the critters. I hurt for the children. I hurt for the adults. Nothing can change the reality.

Interestingly, just this morning at the light of day, I saw a video on Facebook, posted by another of my friends who is a 911 dispatcher in Missouri. I'm not sure anyone considers how the first responders to tragedy feel. One of the strongest impacts in my mind after 9/11 was the total confusion and helpless visages on the firemen who were trying to respond--TRAINED to respond--but simply couldn't do anything to change the situation. As long as I live, those images will always be with me. I wasn't there, but I could feel what they were feeling.

And that got my feeble brain to wondering who helps the helpers get past this stuff? Fortunately, there are opportunities of help via Critical Incident Stress Management (CISM) for those who avail themselves of it. (I had the lowest level of training in that once. Like CPR, it's something that needs to be refreshed on a regular basis. There are very specific steps in dealing with these kinds of trauma.) Of course, there are people who won't admit that they need help because they think they are stronger than all of that. I think everyone who has experienced something horrific to them needs to seek help. Fortunately, Amy has touched base with a counselor. It's still early in her recovery for this.

This is one of those No Win situations for which no human help will work. That's where faith comes in. Sometimes, we have to give in. Sometimes we have to admit that we are powerless to change things and that only something bigger than ourselves can help. Sounds like a cop-out. Maybe it is. To me, without it, nothing makes sense. We are all serendipitously at the mercy of the universe. I have trouble with that. It feels better to me to feel the focus of faith and prayer. It causes me to give off the positive vibrations of love even in awful situations. I have to have faith. Without it, life is just one trauma after another, with no hope of it getting better. I'm not stupid. I don't believe that I can change the world, but I sure wish I could!