I have spent a lot of time this year witnessing trauma. In my
position as a Children’s Advocate in a domestic violence shelter, I have served
children who have survived and witnessed a staggering range of violence, abuse and anger.
Trauma looks different in each child. It can speak through blank stares and distant gazes, or it can
lash out as confrontation, defiance and anger. It can trigger refusals to eat,
sleep, listen, share, use the toilet, go to school, or respect authority
figures.
One 13-year-old boy I worked with closed himself in the closet, screamed
at the top of his lungs and threatened to harm himself. A nine-year old girl wet her pants
every time she heard her father’s voice. A five-year old boy would scream, “I
hate you! I’ll mess you up!” when he disagreed with your suggestions. One
four-year old boy stopped talking altogether, opting instead to spend his day
rocking back and forth in a ball on the carpet.
It can break your heart to watch kids surviving violence. But it
reminds me every day about why showing up to them matters.
What children develop as coping mechanisms to survive and
process violence can damage the rest of their lives. The attachment disorders,
mental illness and violent behaviors that develop in response to trauma pose life-long obstacles to children – and later, adults – who endure
them. Often, the women in our shelter who grapple with complex, multiple
diagnoses (on top of the trauma of their current situations) cite the violent
homes they grew up in as the root cause of their struggles.
But what can we do about it? We can’t erase memories, nor should
we. We can’t “fix” families, nor should we. We can’t heal every wound – we
can’t even perceive them all.
But we can keep showing up.
As a children’s advocate, my role is to be a peaceful, safe, fun
adult that the kids in shelter can trust to be there for them. I’m the
one they can play with, talk to, goof around with, earn stickers from, and
accompany on outings. Sometimes I’m the one to cook their meals, tie their
shoes, and help them with their homework. We talk about Spongebob and coloring
books, boogers and fairies, dinosaurs, pancakes, calm bodies, and feeling
angry. We talk about their friends, their pets, their stuffed animals, and
their superpowers. We talk about what it’s like to move to a new place, to
leave your grandma behind, and how a reservation is different from a city.
There are giggles and high fives and temper tantrums, and a lot of messy dishes.
Sometimes it’s hard to understand the impact of service. It can
be hard to see families return to abusive situations, or to see kids leave the
shelter only to continue being homeless. But the greatest joy in my position is
to witness the change – however small – that comes over children during their
stay in shelter. Perhaps it’s as subtle as understanding the difference between
gentle and violent hands, or it’s as monumental sharing your toys rather than
hitting people with them. It can be that kids feel allowed to be kids again –
to choose their favorite clothes to wear, belt their favorite tunes, blow
bubbles in their milk, smile when they say hello, or shake their tail feathers
when you turn on the radio. When a child who’s played a protective role can
leave mom’s side, knowing she’s safe, I know that what we do matters.
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| Miranda, a YWCA Children's Advocate, stands with a tree created by children in the domestic violence shelter and attending support groups. |
Earlier this year, I was pushing a four-year-old girl and her
brother on the swings in the backyard. The girl started singing and laughing.
“Felicity*, I love to hear you sing!” I exclaimed.
“Oh, I know!” she shouted.
“Everybody does!”
When I asked her why I hadn’t heard her sing before, she
replied, “We only sing when we’re happy!”
I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of our time together
finding reasons for Felicity to sing.
A domestic violence shelter can change a child’s life.
Sometimes, it even saves it. And whether or not I ever understand the full impact
of my relationships with the children I meet there, I’ll know that it’s a
privilege and a joy to keep showing up for them.
Posted by Miranda, Jesuit Volunteer Corps member, YWCA Missoula Pathways Program
