Livin In The Deep End.

RESILIENCE. From the perspective of a psychologist with lived experience.

By Black Sheep Cycling

September 22^nd, 2022

Read duration: 5-10 mins.

“The isolation rooms in an Emergency Department are bleak and waking up in one is even bleaker. I’d caught the elevator to my basement.”

Fresh from University, where I was a ‘bare minimum’ psychology student until my honour’s year, and then a four-month trip gallivanting around Europe, I marched into a career as a psychologist in the full-time Australian Army. Looking back, I almost didn’t make it through the selection process. I performed underwhelmingly during the selection board and interview process but was given the benefit of the doubt due to my “demonstrated potential to be an adequate psychology officer”. I was so relieved with this outcome and what followed was a career blessed with opportunity. Six moves to different parts of Australia, providing support to the Victorian Bushfires in 2009 and Queensland Floods in 2011, deployments to East Timor, the Solomon Islands and Afghanistan, and steady promotion from Lieutenant to Captain to Major. I surprised many people; I certainly surprised myself.

Being a psychologist is an interesting profession. There is this unique opportunity of gaining a window into the different experiences of your clients; there is no better textbook. You gain a broader perspective of the world, learning that differences between us are real. You learn the way people perceive the world can vary significantly depending on life experiences and we shouldn’t be too quick to judge or jump to conclusion. What I also learnt was, we all face adversity in life, but we don’t all respond positively to it.

Resilience, the ability to work through adversity, to bounce back is a seemingly overused and misunderstood buzz word these days. Understanding what resilience is and is not matters. It’s the WHAT you want to achieve and HOW you go about achieving it. It’s a skill we can all develop, with hard work and practice. I have seen many people develop and demonstrate incredible resilience; I have also seen some choose different ways to tackle life’s challenges and the outcome has been tragic. Regardless, there are always learning opportunities throughout life’s good, bad, and indifferent moments.

I’d like to share three reflections, hard learnt (which is always relative) and not without some pain and chaos along the way, that allow me to be better, to be more resilient, to continue to try and do good.

There are defining moments in our lives and when I was starting out as a junior psychologist with bugger all life experience I was asked by my boss to go to the local private hospital to conduct a psychological screen on Tim, a soldier. Tim had returned from Afghanistan following a combat-related injury. It was nerve-racking as an early 20-something year-old driving to a facility with the words, “Returned early from deployment in Afghanistan”, “Check on his mental health”, “It mightn’t be pretty” playing over in my head. Driving in silence didn’t help – maybe I should have turned the radio on. Once I got to the hospital and finally found a park, they need to do something about parking at hospitals, it’s additional stress you could really do without, I made my way to Tim’s room.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking out the window with his back to me. I remember it was so quiet. I broke the silence with two knocks on Tim’s door and he calmly and slowly turned around to face me – it felt just like slow motion.

I can still see Tim as he faced me. He’d sustained serious facial injuries and had lost all but a couple of fingers on both hands. His injuries were the misfortunate outcome of an incident involving a rocket. My mind was doing cartwheels and bounced between “What am I even doing here?”, “What am I meant to say to this guy?”, “I don’t have the skills to deal with this” and, “You’ve got this”, “Be supportive and simply listen”, “Don’t look shocked, role model calm and composed”. The latter thoughts were clearly much more helpful.

I pulled up a seat next to Tim’s bed and began fumbling my way through a series of well-rehearsed questions. My approach was far from poetic, but I stuck to my loose script. Tim was a down-to-earth country boy with a distinct Australian twang to many of his words. He used “mate”, “ya know” and “ay” at the end of his sentences a lot. He also seemed to be a real glass-half-full kinda guy. I gained some composure and the conversation started to flow more naturally. Tim made it easy to engage, despite everything he was dealing with.

I noticed a photo of Tim with his wife and two young children on the bedside table, big smiles, and warm embraces. I still remember my eyes fixing on the photo and Tim followed my gaze. I began to think about how different Tim’s life would be moving forward. Would he be able to hold his wife and kids like he used to? Would he be able to feel their warmth in his hands ever again? Would his kids even recognise their dad? For the first, but not the last time in my career as a psychologist I swallowed hard trying to hold back the tears. Tim looked at me said, “I’ll be OK, Luke, at least I got to come home to my family unlike so many others”. Impressive bloke, words to reassure ME, the psychologist who was there to support HIM.

Meeting Tim taught me, the psychologist, that shit happens in life and sometimes when we least expect it. Life is characterised by its fair share of suffering and tragedy. Unfortunately, this is an unavoidable part of the human experience. Resilient people aren’t oblivious to this notion, to negativity – they understand and accept life isn’t always rainbows and skittles, and ‘shit’ does indeed happen, but they have worked out a way to tune into the good, to maintain a balanced perspective. They acknowledge life’s sufferings and trudge uphill, nonetheless.

Reflection 1: Understand and accept life does not always go to plan. Don’t let the negatives stick to you like Velcro. Work to expand your perspective and search doggedly for the positives, for the lessons, for the meaning in life’s tough moments.

"Meeting Tim taught me, the psychologist, that shit happens in life and sometimes when we least expect it."

After a decade of service, I hastily discharged from the full-time Army to the surprise of many. I was performing well and was told I was in the running for almost any opportunity I wanted. I left with no real plan, which in hindsight was a mistake. Make. Sure. You. Have. A. Plan.

I expected I would quickly land on my feet. I packed up my uniform in a trunk and pushed it under my bed along with parts of my identity and my ego. I was a fraction of myself, though didn’t know it at the time. What followed was a busted relationship with an amazing woman, and several failed attempts at my next career move. I landed new roles, they’d last a month or two, and then I’d quit. I was lost, running on empty and struggling for meaning and purpose. Shit spiralled relatively quickly, and I was desperately searching for a solution. Drugs and alcohol became part of my life, they were my solution. I’ve been intentional here, precise with my word choice in describing the substances as my solution. Sure, they caused a lot of problems in my life, but they weren’t the problem, they were the solution to the turmoil bubbling away beneath the surface, the lack of responsibility, the lack of meaning and purpose in my life.

The WHAT I wanted to achieve and HOW I was going about it were out of whack.

Weeks blurred into months and my life became a lame story of active addiction (prescription medication was the main protagonist), brief moments of sobriety and then relapse. It was defined by destructiveness, bitterness, self-contempt, vengefulness, regret, and misery – I shudder at the thought of some of the stuff that went on; it was ugly.

Amongst the commotion of the pain and suffering I was experiencing, there was another constant, who walked with me through my living hell. Jason, my good mate, my brother from another mother. I was very good at bullshitting people, except Jason. When I wasn’t travelling so well and had a skin full of whatever it was I was self-medicating with, he instantly knew things were heading south – rate of my speech, tone of my voice, he saw through the well-fabricated excuses I spat out not to catch-up with him. My days of impulsive pleasure-seeking, falling prey to indulgences were invariably interrupted by a knock on my apartment door, followed by banging. The type of banging that you can’t ignore through fear of pissing off your neighbours. I’d stumble to the door, and it’d be Jason. His arms would be wide open, and he always had this gentle look on his face. He wasn’t naïve, nor did he approve of what I was doing; but he was always genuine in his approach to help me.

He said very little at these times and typically left it at, “It’s time to stop, mate, how can I help you move through this?”. Of course, this didn’t happen the first time he showed up. Working through any challenge in life isn’t a linear, straightforward process. It was Jason’s persistence that would help me move through these periods, over and over and over again – like a broken record really. It must have been incredibly frustrating for him. I am still alive today because of his persistence and the amazing support of my family.

"Working through any challenge in life isn’t a linear, straightforward process."

The isolation rooms in an Emergency Department are bleak and waking up in one is even bleaker. In fact, I can’t say I love Emergency Departments in general. They seem to be such a dichotomy of calm and chaos, but even the calm I find eery. The type of eery reminiscent of the eye of a storm, or the Last Post at an Anzac Day clash.

When I awoke in the Emergency Department my mind quickly went to a scene from A Clockwork Orange – dark and creepy, recognising that my perception of the joint was influenced by my mindset. Not Good. This is where I reached my personal rock bottom. I’d caught the elevator to my basement, which, when you layout all possible outcomes, I was one of the lucky ones. I was in a safe facility, being looked after by extremely proficient hospital staff – nurses, a psychiatrist, even the security guard, who I floated the idea of ‘doing a runner’ with, had a good manner about him.

It was fucking lonely in there and all I wanted to do was get the hell out.

The problem was, I couldn’t just waltz out of the place and mosey off into the day. I needed to wait for someone to collect me and guarantee I wouldn’t be left alone. I had to be watched over like a baby.

Revelation - when you’re being treated like a baby, you’re probably acting like one.

I sat in an isolation room of the Emergency Department for almost 10 hours.

Male, 30-40 years of age, Veteran; they weren’t letting me go anywhere.

I waited, drowning in regret and self-pity for someone, anyone to come and get me.

“Why isn’t anyone getting me?”, “Why doesn’t anyone care about me?” – embarrassing really, and so far from the truth.

The first familiar face I saw after 10 long, painful hours was Jason’s. His arms were wide open, and he had this gentle look on his face. He wasn’t naïve, nor did he approve of what I’d done; but he was genuine in his approach to help me. “It’s time to stop, mate, how can I help you move through this?”.

I could have said sorry, and I probably did, but I’d said sorry too many times. I needed to change my behaviour. I’ve learnt, the best apology is a change in behaviour, not just to the people I’ve hurt along the way, but also, to myself. I’ve gotten my substance use under control since that day, not that it hasn’t been without its challenges, and I now have the capacity see more clearly, the fog has been lifted and I can better weigh up whether what I am about to do is going to help or harm me. I’ve become more considered and intentional in WHAT I want to achieve and HOW I go about achieving it.

Cheers, Jason, I’ve always listened to you, but I’ve finally heard you.

Reflection 2: Resilient people value the power of social support and ensure they have good people in their corner. They work hard on their relationships, recognising that healthy relationships are made up of a good dose of give and take. They are grateful for their support network and show gratitude towards those in it through words and actions. They do not go it alone.

As much as checking in with your friends and loved ones can seem like a fruitless activity at times, what I’ve learnt over the years is each time you check in with someone it can be that metaphorical nudge they might need towards getting help. I’ve also learnt your support network can walk you home time and time again, but at some point, we must take responsibility for our own lives and walk through the front door.

“We’re all just walking each other home” – Ram Dass.

I am still a work in progress, we all are. I’ve done some good in life, I’ve fucked up too. But with a wiser head these days I appreciate the lessons I’ve learnt and the inevitable lessons to come. Learning is good! The lessons I’ve learnt so far, which seem to marry up nicely with some of the wisdom from thought leaders on resilience, will serve me well moving forward, and I hope they can also help others. No doubt the lessons have been received loud and clear, now it’s just a matter of consciously applying them. The easy bit, right? Definitely not! Resilience is a skill we can all develop, but it takes bloody hard work and practice – plenty of it, but it’s well worth the effort.

Reflection 3: Resilient people take responsibility for their own actions. They get back in the rider’s seat and gain control over their lives. Resilient people have the capacity to STOP and REFLECT on whether what they’re doing is helpful. They ask themselves, “Is what I’m doing serving me well?” time and time again. As you move through life it’s important to STOP and REFLECT on what it is you are doing to yourself, for yourself. Regularly ask yourself the question, “Is what I’m doing right now serving me well?”. If the answer is no, do things differently. If you change nothing, nothing will change.