Michelle, there is so much I want to say on this heartfelt, honest, vulnerable and beautifully written post. I too worry I will say it all wrong, expose myself in some way, that even after reading this post, I have the fear and shame that even you might think I’m doing things wrong. I am a clinical psychologist and my second daughter died. I think I was at the training you mention, if it wasn’t the same training it must have been one around the same time. My previous NHS trust supported me to attend. I know you don’t need me to say it as you’ve found your peace on this, but the training gave me so much. As a professional and as a bereaved parent, but also that I thought the training made incredibly brave links and such rich reflections on various forms of trauma and loss in the perinatal period. But most of all, in the training I just wanted to ask you (but couldn’t find a way to), how do you do this so gracefully, the personal, the professional, the boundaries that feel so human, but with upmost integrity to your profession and clients. I suppose I thought, how do I possibly do that. Not to be successful (what ever that may be in our profession!), but how do I take this relationship with my dead child that seems to be at the centre of everything, that I cannot help but write and speak about, and integrate it into my identity. All parts of my identity. As either I lose her again, or I don’t know who I am. And does that even mean I can be a psychologist anymore. I admired your writing and speaking before my daughter died as I thought you were doing something very important for our profession, and I couldn’t help but read words so beautifully articulated about love and loss and all the complexity. After my daughter died, your reflections have become a necessity for me, somewhere I can go to when I feel overwhelmed with doing life and my job now I am a bereaved parent. We don’t know each other, and yet I feel you have helped me in ways I cannot ever properly articulate and thank you for. I’ve wanted to reach out in some way but I didn’t know if it was a professional or personal need and I couldn’t shake the feeling of perhaps burdening you in some way. As this post shows so clearly, there is a need for self protection when you put yourself out there in this space, and for people to respect your boundaries. But I just wanted to say your writing and speaking is what it is to me because you hold both and allow me to look at it, this bit in the middle, this split, as you say, between the personal and professional. And to me, that makes you whole, and gives me hope maybe there’s still a place for me to carry my daughter with me and still be a psychologist, and maybe even a much better one. I feel so angry on your behalf, for Orla, for me and my daughter, that this brutal feedback happened, but I am so grateful for the writing that came from it. Your generosity with your vulnerability is a gift I will treasure from afar. Annie
Dear Michelle, Thank you so much for your curiosity, vulnerability and courage in your transparency. I have to say there have been a number of times in my life when I was the audience member who walked away from a presentation feeling angered that I got nothing at all from it. On 100% of those occasions, time/life showed me how what was presented was impinging on my defences and, in my immaturity (for lack of a better word), my defences won over my opportunity for growth. At times, the sophisticated subject matter was triggering and I mistook my internal complexity as a sign of annoyance; at other times, what was triggering was the person who reminded me of someone from my past with whom I have a complex relationship. "We see things not as they are but as we are." Perhaps the reason the feedback was not constructive is because it could be reflectively discussed elsewhere and it just happened to spill-over more socially. Your compassion is very clear.
With love, endless gratitude, and every best wish, Mary Grace.
I think your honesty and transparency helps so many others Michelle. It's so important to share these lived experiences..you are human and being a therapist and supporting others is not all of you. I work as a health professional and having had my own challenging personal experiences recently I think it is changing my practice and my openess with patients. Yes there are boundaries but sharing your humanity is so very important, particularly in your job. I'm so sorry you had that feedback.
Michelle, your words really resonated with me, particularly around being a human with a deep fear of getting things wrong. I'm also interested about what you say in terms of what is going on systemically. Thank you for sharing everything you do, I for one am very grateful.
Michelle, there is so much I want to say on this heartfelt, honest, vulnerable and beautifully written post. I too worry I will say it all wrong, expose myself in some way, that even after reading this post, I have the fear and shame that even you might think I’m doing things wrong. I am a clinical psychologist and my second daughter died. I think I was at the training you mention, if it wasn’t the same training it must have been one around the same time. My previous NHS trust supported me to attend. I know you don’t need me to say it as you’ve found your peace on this, but the training gave me so much. As a professional and as a bereaved parent, but also that I thought the training made incredibly brave links and such rich reflections on various forms of trauma and loss in the perinatal period. But most of all, in the training I just wanted to ask you (but couldn’t find a way to), how do you do this so gracefully, the personal, the professional, the boundaries that feel so human, but with upmost integrity to your profession and clients. I suppose I thought, how do I possibly do that. Not to be successful (what ever that may be in our profession!), but how do I take this relationship with my dead child that seems to be at the centre of everything, that I cannot help but write and speak about, and integrate it into my identity. All parts of my identity. As either I lose her again, or I don’t know who I am. And does that even mean I can be a psychologist anymore. I admired your writing and speaking before my daughter died as I thought you were doing something very important for our profession, and I couldn’t help but read words so beautifully articulated about love and loss and all the complexity. After my daughter died, your reflections have become a necessity for me, somewhere I can go to when I feel overwhelmed with doing life and my job now I am a bereaved parent. We don’t know each other, and yet I feel you have helped me in ways I cannot ever properly articulate and thank you for. I’ve wanted to reach out in some way but I didn’t know if it was a professional or personal need and I couldn’t shake the feeling of perhaps burdening you in some way. As this post shows so clearly, there is a need for self protection when you put yourself out there in this space, and for people to respect your boundaries. But I just wanted to say your writing and speaking is what it is to me because you hold both and allow me to look at it, this bit in the middle, this split, as you say, between the personal and professional. And to me, that makes you whole, and gives me hope maybe there’s still a place for me to carry my daughter with me and still be a psychologist, and maybe even a much better one. I feel so angry on your behalf, for Orla, for me and my daughter, that this brutal feedback happened, but I am so grateful for the writing that came from it. Your generosity with your vulnerability is a gift I will treasure from afar. Annie
Dear Michelle, Thank you so much for your curiosity, vulnerability and courage in your transparency. I have to say there have been a number of times in my life when I was the audience member who walked away from a presentation feeling angered that I got nothing at all from it. On 100% of those occasions, time/life showed me how what was presented was impinging on my defences and, in my immaturity (for lack of a better word), my defences won over my opportunity for growth. At times, the sophisticated subject matter was triggering and I mistook my internal complexity as a sign of annoyance; at other times, what was triggering was the person who reminded me of someone from my past with whom I have a complex relationship. "We see things not as they are but as we are." Perhaps the reason the feedback was not constructive is because it could be reflectively discussed elsewhere and it just happened to spill-over more socially. Your compassion is very clear.
With love, endless gratitude, and every best wish, Mary Grace.
I think your honesty and transparency helps so many others Michelle. It's so important to share these lived experiences..you are human and being a therapist and supporting others is not all of you. I work as a health professional and having had my own challenging personal experiences recently I think it is changing my practice and my openess with patients. Yes there are boundaries but sharing your humanity is so very important, particularly in your job. I'm so sorry you had that feedback.
Michelle, your words really resonated with me, particularly around being a human with a deep fear of getting things wrong. I'm also interested about what you say in terms of what is going on systemically. Thank you for sharing everything you do, I for one am very grateful.