The wind, as calming and as turmoltuios as it can appear at times, is something has the ability to reach all of our senses, yet is a force that cannot be physically seen. The effects of its aftermath can be visually witnessed, but because it can be truly seen with the human eye, we are left to accept the those who share their experience with it, or challenge it. There is no actual substance, creature, form, physical object, to hold accountable for the its effects, good or bad. The wind, just is....Denying it exists is not an option. However, denying its responsibility for the comfort or devastation it leaves behind, is.
One of the most painful aspects of this journey has been in dealing with the complete rejectionn and abandonment that I' have felt from the few close friends and family that I have, out of utter desparation, sought help from. Although, in my heart, I know they mean no harm. I believe they truly do want to help, but fear of acceptance threatens their beliefs, security, even their faith.
from the book by Jim Hopper "Trauma and Recovery"
http://www.jimhopper.com/trauma_and_recovery/
To study psychological trauma is to come face to face both with human vulnerability in the natural world and with the capacity for evil in human nature. To study psychological trauma means bearing witness to horrible events. When the events are natural disasters or "acts of God," those who bear witness sympathize readily with the victim. But when the traumatic events are of human design, those who bear witness are caught in the conflict between victim and perpetrator. It is morally impossible to remain neutral in this conflict.
It is very tempting to take the side of the perpetrator. All the perpetrator asks is that the bystander do nothing. He appeals to the universal desire to see, hear, and speak no evil. The victim, on the contrary, asks the bystander to share the burden of the pain. The victim demands action, engagement, and remembering. .
In order to escape accountability for his crimes, the perpetrator does everything in his power to promote forgetting. Secrecy and silence are the perpetrator's first line of defense. If secrecy fails, the perpetrator attacks the credibility of his victim. If he cannot silence her absolutely, he tries to make sure that no one listens. To this end, he marshals an impressive array of arguments, from the most blatant denial to the most sophisticated and elegant rationalization. After every atrocity one can expect to hear the same predictable apologies: it never happened; the victim lies; the victim exaggerates; the victim brought it on herself; and in any case it is time to forget the past and move on. The more powerful the perpetrator, the greater is his prerogative to name and define reality, and the more completely his arguments prevail.
The perpetrator's arguments prove irresistible when the bystander faces them in isolation. Without a supportive social environment, the bystander usually succumbs to the temptation to look the other way. This is true even when the victim is an idealized and valued member of society. Soldiers in every war, even those who have been regarded as heroes, complain bitterly that no one wants to know the real truth about war. When the victim is already devalued (a woman, a child), she may find that the most traumatic events in her life take place outside the realm of socially validated reality. Her experience becomes unspeakable. . . .
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