What if you were not corrupted?
By Anna Atsu
“From the perfect start to the finish line
And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones
'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs
(…)
Chasing visions of our futures
One day, we'll reveal the truth
(…)
And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones
'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone
Collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home
(…)
And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one”
— Youth “Daughter”
Perhaps you're here because you've felt a sense of being fractured in some way. If it's not literal ("financially broken"), it could stem from traumas, a complex upbringing, or unsuccessful relationships and career choices.
What if we weren't burdened by the weight of past traumas and the scars etched into our souls? Would we be more resolute and less susceptible to doubt? Perhaps, but would we then lack empathy? It's possible.
Consider what you have seen and experienced in life as a lesson in humanity. It could be someone from your close circles serving a sentence in prison, spending time in a mental health institution, cutting off ties with family, being killed or succumbing to death by suicide. Our fractures grant us compassion that others with a straightforward life may not possess.
But on the other hand, haven't we all, at some point, felt like a soft jellyfish who, because of the past, stumbled into the pit of genuine kindness, only to realise later that our approach missed something and as a result left us drained?
Allow me to offer my recent reflections on the topic:
Regardless of my genuine enjoyment of working with young people from diverse backgrounds, including those with traumas, over the past two weeks, I've found myself drained by certain students to the extent that my recovery sessions lasted longer than the time spent with them.
When working with someone who's withdrawn, our instinct is to break through with kindness. But repeated childhood trauma keeps them in a state of hypervigilance, always sensing danger. We witness behaviours speaking the language of trauma. Young people signal distress through boundary testing, intensity, and even aggression. It's normal to feel anger in response, but those unfamiliar with “corrupted lungs” may defensively lash out, even publicly. Those who've seen much are more understanding and motivated to assist despite the drain. This empathy guides to offer patience and support, forging connections with others in greater struggles.
"Children don’t get traumatised because they're hurt, but because they're left alone with the hurt."
— Dr. Gabor Mate
Rejection and condemnation compound this isolation. Quick judgments elevate us to the role of a "hero", but an African proverb warns:
"Until the lion tells the story, the hunter will always be the hero."
And they might never tell their story.
As much as you may want to throw in the towel, there's a sense that you must confront it. It's like facing your past but with the added possibility of making a difference.
Those who are afraid of losing a hand must have lost the courage that comes from the heart.
"The only way for you to see God do the kinds of things he desires you to do in and through you is to run toward the roar again and again and again."
— Levi Lusco, "Through the Eyes of a Lion"
In sectors such as care, hospitality, education, and services, it's common to encounter challenging situations, whether dealing with impolite customers, poorly behaved children, individuals under the influence, or elderly patients struggling with memory loss.
It's also common to find ourselves in situations where our efforts go unrecognised. I recall when I first started learning history, I didn't fully appreciate its value. However, my perspective changed when my history teacher praised my friend and me for always giving our best. Although initially humbling (felt like ash being thrown on my head), her encouragement fueled my passion for history. Over time, I became deeply engaged in the subject, attending history clubs and relishing stories of kings and queens. This transformation left me with a lifelong interest in history, about which my former teacher, who later became a local MP never knew.
Perhaps you encounter people at work who only acknowledge you momentarily, offering no words of appreciation. You might find yourself working alongside others for an extended period, feeling as though you're exhausting yourself in a seemingly futile pursuit of understanding. Perhaps, like me, you've made the same mistake of forgetting your boundaries. Failing to establish clear limits leaves us vulnerable to the burdens of others. Transparent boundaries, however, hold people accountable and prevent feelings of being used or mistreated. Neglecting this balance, we extend ourselves in service, only to feel adrift and exploited. It's a delicate equilibrium that demands firmness from the outset to safeguard our well-being.
When the burden becomes overwhelming, prioritising self-care becomes paramount. Consider avoiding shifts where confrontations are more likely, or requesting transfers to different departments or even changing the way you deliver your services by becoming self-employed. Yet, never lose sight of your resilience and determination.
P.S.: If you find yourself after a long night shift or exhausting day dealing with challenging individuals or customers on the other side of the line, you might resonate with Frida Kahlo's sentiment:
"I am that clumsy human, always loving, loving, loving, and never leaving."
Recognise that your service is invaluable, and perhaps you wouldn’t be there if you were not imperfect, fractured or "corrupted".
Be kind but firm.
