The Third Rail of Emotional Abuse

I recently received this anonymous inquiry:

I'm very curious about emotional abuse. I'm concerned about a community member who has a history of trauma and is also a trauma therapist who is twisting the words of others to cause them to feel bad about themselves. It feels like emotional abuse. We're working toward mediation process but I'm wondering how a conflict resolution team would work with this type of pattern.

While I know no more details about this situation than what's contained in the paragraph above, I think it's a good topic. 

At the outset, it's important to understand that I have no training in trauma response, per se, and do not consider myself an expert in that arena. That said, I do consider myself an expert on conflict in cooperative groups, and hold the view that it's imperative for cooperative groups to be able to work constructively with feelings (which are invariably in the room whether you have agreements about them or not, and undoubtedly are a central feature of trauma).

While it's up to each community to establish what protocols will serve the group best with respect to the emergence of conflict and non-trivial distress, here's how I would engage with the dynamic described by the inquirer:

Let's make this as messy as possible, and assume that there are at least three different perspectives on what was happening (where the same event was experienced first-hand by three different people, all of whom may be having a different response).

Let's say Pat is the trauma therapist, Chris is the person who has been made to feel bad about themselves, and Dale is someone upset observing this. 

If I were facilitating when this dynamic emerged, I would step in to interrupt the dynamic as soon as I was conscious of someone being in noticeable distress (most likely cuing in to Chris or Dale, based on the scenario presented). Note that I would interrupt the exchanges as soon as I recognized distress or reactivity—I would not wait until I determined that abuse had occurred, which can be a more complex assessment.

When stepping in, I would try to engage the person I sensed was most in distress and then work my way around the room, until everyone in reaction had had a chance to say what was going on for them. In this instance, the fulminating tension may be between Chris and Pat, or it may be between Dale & Pat. 

(For that matter, there could be tension between Dale & Chris: I recall how irritated my mother was when I would would criticize my father for going into a rant and belittling her—she told me in n o uncertain terms to butt out; she didn't want me defending her.)

I would engage with each person long enough to establish what they are feeling, their version of what happened, and its impact on them. I would steer them away from labeling others, assigning motivation to others, or from analyzing the situation. I would simply be asking them to report what they've experienced and its meaning to them. After listening to their responses, I would reflect back the essence of what I heard, doing my best to match both their words and their energy. I would be trying to walk in their shoes.

Essential to this being effective is staying with it until the speaker reports feeling heard. Caution: It is often insufficient to simply assert, "I hear you" or to nod sympathetically. You have to be able to demonstrate to the upset person's satisfaction, that you get what they've told you.

My thinking here is that people in distress often feel isolated and are not confident that others will be open to hearing about their experience, or to understand it even if they get to tell their story. With that in mind, the very first order of business is to establish connection, so that information can flow.

How It Might Look to Pat

This can have a very wide range, including the following possibilities:

• Pat may have been abusive yet have no consciousness of it.

• Pat may own that they were purposefully trying to hurt Chris (I don't run into this often, but it's a possibility).

• Pat may believe they engaged with Chris in ways that they felt were ethical and constructive.

• Pat may be oblivious to what they had done, or its impact on Chris.

• Pat may recognize that they had gone overboard (in some sense) and are in remorse about it.

Even if you stipulate that Pat is skilled as a trauma therapist, that doesn't preclude their having a blind spot about the ways in which they can trigger trauma in others, nor does it guarantee that they are always aware of when they have been triggered. Finally, therapists are likely to have a preferred method for working trauma, and there is no single approach that's 100% effective.

Thus, while it's reasonable to expect a trauma therapist to be sensitive to what will be triggering in others, and to be deft in picking up on cues that what they're doing is landing poorly, there are no certainties.

Pat might be completely at ease with what they did; they might be embarrassed; they might be curious (that Dale thinks they were abusive); they might also be in reaction themselves (to who knows what). 

How It Might Look to Chris

Just because Dale believes Pat was abusing Chris, does not necessarily mean that Chris experienced Pat as abusive. It's important, I think, to not jump ahead, and to listen carefully to each player's story. There could well be three very disparate realities in play without anyone being "wrong."

While it seems unlikely that Chris enjoyed their interaction with Pat, discomfort or confusion is not necessarily abuse. Was the exchange embarrassing? Overwhelming? Unrelenting? Accusatory? Trauma-triggering (in ways that Pat might reasonably be expected to know or be sensitive to)? There is a wealth of possibilities here.

I can imagine that Chris might be in tears, shaking, or completely shut down. Or they might be outwardly calm, or even untouched by what Dale found intolerable.

By describing Pat's interactions with Chris as "abusive," it suggests that Pat—at least in Dale's eyes—placed Chris in an awkward (excruciating?) spot, without license to do so.

How It Might Look to Dale

It seems certain from the description that Dale had a definite negative reaction to what Pat was doing with Chris.

This could stem from any or all of the following:

—Outrage on behalf of the group (that Chris could be treated this way).

—Upset over the perception that Pat is acting out of integrity as a trauma therapist (misusing their license).

—Frustration with the group that Pat's behavior has been tolerated.

—Personal irritation with Pat that has its roots in prior unresolved issues.

How to Proceed

With all these moving parts, I'd need to make an in-the-moment assessment of where the major axis of tension ran and begin there. In condensed form, here is the sequence I'd follow:

• Interrupt the damaging or upsetting exchanges (stop the merry-go-round)

• Acknowledge the protagonists' experiences (noting where they are similar and where they diverge)

• Decide (interactively with the players and the group) whether to take it further in the moment, or set something up afterwards in another setting. If the former, I would work in dyads, starting with those most triggered or most in distress, attempting to repair relationship damage and to reopen channels of communication. Problem solving would follow that (commitments the two might make to each other about how to proceed differently in the future).

If the latter, I'd stay with it long enough to get a commitment from each party about a time and place to reconvene.

If the Facilitator Is Overwhelmed or Ineffective

This is where the Conflict Resolution Team might come into play, being on call to step in at need if the facilitator cannot answer the bell. While I strongly advocate that groups have such a team, there are three essential things that need to be in place for that hope to be realized:

1. A general agreement to engage with strong feelings when they surface (permission).

2. Clarity about how those feelings will be worked with (while there are a number of modalities for working with conflict, the group needs to bless at least one of the them, so members know what they've signed up for).

3. Sufficient skill in the community to be able to facilitate this work using the chosen modality.

It does no good to have a general agreement to work with conflict if there is no agreement about how to go about it, or no confidence in the group's ability to navigate it successfully.

Group Works: Celebrate

This entry continues a series in which I'm exploring concepts encapsulated in a set of 91 cards called Group Works, developed by Tree Bressen, Dave Pollard, and Sue Woehrlin. The deck represents "A Pattern Language for Bringing Life to Meetings and Other Gatherings."

In each blog, I'll examine a single card and what that elicits in me as a professional who works in the field of cooperative group dynamics. My intention in this series is to share what each pattern means to me. I am not suggesting a different ordering or different patterns—I will simply reflect on what the Group Works folks have put together.

The cards have been organized into nine groupings, and I'll tackle them in the order presented in the manual that accompanies the deck:

1. Intention
2. Context
3. Relationship
4. Flow
5. Creativity
6. Perspective
7. Modeling
8. Inquiry & Synthesis
9. Faith

In the Relationship segment there are 10 cards. The fourth pattern in this segment is labeled Celebrate. Here is the image and text from that card: 

With joy and zest, publicly celebrate milestones and recurring events. Affirming shared history, we nourish community, crystallize a sense of accomplishment, and build group identity by unifying our stories and common goals. Can be planned and ritualized, or as spontaneous as a group cheer.

There's an old joke about why fundamentalist Christians don't make love standing up—because it might lead to dancing. 
The humor in this runs deeper than lampooning moral rectitude in the Bible Belt; it's rooted in the knowledge that we, as a culture, are embarrassingly subdued and afraid of passion. Not certain that we can safely distinguish between aggression and ebullience, we put the lid on both.

To be fair, it's not hard to understand how this happens. We all have first-hand experiences of feeling beaten up by someone lashing out in fear or anger, and it makes perfect sense how people (and by extension, groups) could be highly motivated to protect themselves from being subjected to repeat performances. That said, disapproving—or worse, pathologizing—emotional expression of all stripes ("Please, show some respect and control") is a spectacularly poor response to the challenge of understanding and working effectively with distress. 

Wait (you may be saying). How did we start with a pattern about celebration and get into a conversation about emotional distress? Answer: because the two are inextricably linked.

While the image above is in the range of balloons and whistles, there is a darker side of emotional response and you can't reasonably open up to the sunshine without expecting rain clouds from time to time. One of the reasons that groups tend to be a little stilted about celebration is because they're so tentative and unsure of their footing when it comes to distress. It rings hollow asking groups to cheer when there's an unwritten rule against crying or yelling.

There's a famous quip from Emma Goldman that applies here:
If I can't dance, I don't want to be part of your revolution.

The essence of this speaks to my point. Revolution is serious business, which Emma knew. She also knew that you need to bring your whole self to the attempt. Revolution is not just a state of mind ("Today, I think I'll care more about the environment."). It's an all-in commitment. Yet passion that's all channeled into anger and grim determination is exhausting, out of balance, and unsustainable.

There also needs to be some fun and goofiness, which brings us back to today's pattern. Sometimes you need to jump for joy, and sing hallelujah! This is not about pretending that bad things don't happen; it's about genuinely recognizing the good things that do, and not letting the pain and suffering of the world—which are very real things—stop you from being fully human and connecting with others in our effort to make a positive difference.

So if you want the baby (celebration) be aware that they can get messy from time to time and the bath water of emotions, in their full range of expression, comes with the deal.

Care to dance?

Inner Play

This past weekend I participated in a workshop at Dancing Rabbit offered by Devi (a vivacious white-haired woman from Kansas City) and her two playmates, Peter & Samir. It was called Interplay, and was organized by my wife, Ma'ikwe, after she'd experienced it last fall in Asheville NC. (It's actually spelled "InterPlay," but I gag at cutesy interior spelling.)

The concept was develop by a dude name Phil Porter and is based in Oakland. While it's spread across the continent, the movement seems strongest in California. It's been around for about 20 years, and is aimed at "unlocking the wisdom of your body." It was fun.

While I was only immersed in the Interplay waters for two days (which means there's certain to be interesting bywaters and deeper currents that I missed on my initial boat ride), here are the themes I picked up:

o Slowing Down
Take time to breathe and be in your body. Don't go faster than you can sustain, or is comfortable for your body. Take breaks as needed; it was OK to sit out any particular sequence.

o Moving Consciously from Stress to Grace
The premise is that this is a journey that we mean to be taking, so let's look at the components of it, especially as it relates to the body.

o Using Movement, Touch, and Voice as the Vocabulary of Emotional Expression
I think that Interplay is powerful because, as a culture, we are starved for emotional authenticity, and highly inhibited in our bodies. (There are plenty of exceptions, of course, but you get the point.) Interplay tries to open both of these doors, giving us a taste of what fuller expression might feel like. Though the context of the workshop is as benign as possible, we got a glimpse of what this might look like if we approached problem-solving this way, where our voices and bodies were fully welcomed at the table.

o Working with What's in the Room
While we mostly played it safe, in the sense that we were experimenting with the vocabulary and were not attempting to work any issues, I was impressed with Devi's willingness to incorporate other ideas in the moment (such as mirroring from ZEGG Forum), or to go deeper when we touched something tender (such as Ma'ikwe's ongoing distress with how long it's taking to complete the construction of her house, or Meadow's grief over losing her dear friend, Tamar, last fall).

o Being Brave with Strangers
The exercises involved a lot of improvisational responses, which brought participants face to face with their anxiety about performing in front of others or the ways in which they've absorbed the message that they can't dance, are not creative, or are not beautiful. Mostly we got through those moments of panic and awkwardness without gridlock, yet there were definitely a few adrenaline spikes.

o Working Inside While Playing Outside
Apropos the playfulness of the weekend, I purposefully tweaked the name in the title of the blog, to emphasize my gaining insights into how I inhibit emotional expression and retain stress (inner work) in deference to cultural norms—even when I know in my body how to handle it better (outer play), as was easily demonstrated in the container of the weekend, where "normal" cultural boundaries were suspended.

o Trusting the Body's Wisdom
For me, the most impressive moment of the weekend came late Sunday afternoon when we worked in pairs to describe briefly a person we each held as a model of Grace in our lives. Then, after Person A had told Person B their story, Person B would dance a tribute of appreciation to Person A's honoree, based on what they'd heard. It was a moment of grace about Grace, where we trusted our bodies to know what to do, and it seemed to work beautifully all around the room. Grace, in that moment, was truly amazing.

• • •

In addition to playful, the weekend was also surprising. It helped that I had carved out the time and didn't have deadlines looming, yet it was also calming and de-stressing (the opposite of distressing). I didn't expect that. While I was doing something I knew little about, performing improvisationally in front of others is familiar territory to me as a teacher and a professional facilitator. I also don't have much body inhibition, so I didn't give much attention to how well I was doing the exercises. It was a gift learning insights about each of my fellow Interplayers.

By Sunday morning, I noticed how relaxed I was (good), and how much that stood in contrast to a typical morning (not so good). The physical contact was a welcome release for me from the everyday tension I carry around about how I hold back from touching others in public—especially women. Although I know myself to be very touch oriented, I am frequently in settings in a position of power and trust (as a speaker, workshop leader, consultant, facilitator, teacher, older man, etc) and have learned in this culture of distorted sexual responses to back off from touch because of its strong potential for being misconstrued. I have allowed my need for touch to be trumped by my need to be effective in my work. Unless I'm confident that touch will be received as congruent with my words, I hold back, and the deep sadness that I carry around this welled up on Sunday.

During an exercise on Saturday, Nathan got a chance to fully express how much he hates cars. As there was no issue about cars that we needed to wrestle with—our job was simply to be present for Nathan—this flowed fine and Nathan found it exhilarating to let it all out. Ordinarily, Nathan feels he has to hold back the strength of his distaste for the internal combustion engine. Saturday he didn't. To be sure, some people reacted to a strong male speaking in anger, yet we didn't get hung up there, both because Nathan was not perceived to be dangerous, and because there was no issue to resolve that required us to labor with Nathan's vehemence.

This was a poignant moment for me in that it highlighted a clutch of important dynamics that plague groups:
—It's unusual to fully express feelings.
—When strong emotions are present, it seriously distorts the conversation until and unless they're disclosed and acknowledged.
—It's a double whammy for men to voice anger or rage, because of the violence that is often associated with angry men.
—It's a paradox that emotional safety (for different people in the same group) can simultaneously be associated with its full expression and with its full suppression! (Perhaps most intriguing of all is the person who demands freedom of expression for themselves while denies extending the same license to others—for fear that they'll use it injudiciously.)
—Groups rarely embrace non-rational knowing and sharing, even when we know in our bones that we'd be wise to do so.

• • •

All and all, there was a lot to play with. It's great being married to a partner who manifests opportunities for such insight—and it happened close enough to my home that I was able to walk to the weekend, cleverly sidestepping the possibility of provoking Nathan. Whew.