Can’t Look, Can’t Look Away.

Navigating the vicarious trauma of witnessing genocide.

How am I to wipe the crumbs from my own daughter's fingers when I know that every Palestinian child and their parent in Gaza is being starved to death at this very same moment?

In one sense, life must go on. In another, how could it possibly?

If you feel that split within yourself- that you both cannot look away and cannot bear to look for any longer, all at the same time- then that would suggest to me that you are already impacted vicariously by the trauma of what is unfolding in Gaza. You might think yourself immune, but the reality is that none of us are.

If our eyes are even vaguely open, how could we not be in some way traumatised? It is unfathomable that the world could allow such a thing, yet here we are, having to fathom it. Having the foundations of our basic trust in the world and its leaders crumbled before our eyes.

I don't think it is melodramatic to say that there are many of us who will find ourselves impacted for the rest of our lives by simply witnessing this genocide from afar. The trauma implications for those directly involved are unimaginable.

In community resilience there is an idea that circles of support work much like the ripples we see when a stone hits the water. There is a circle of those closest to the person/s most affected whose job it is to hold them.

But then there is another circle outside of that who is holding those doing the holding. And then another outside of that who hold the people holding the people who are holding that first support circle. And so on and so forth.

So if you don't find yourself in that first or second or even third circle, that does not mean that your contribution to what is happening isn't valid.

Writing and sharing a post is a contribution. Contacting your elected representative is a contribution. Donating to reputable aid organisations is a contribution. Caring is a contribution.

The truth is, we cannot each of us respond to every crisis and horror that comes to our attention. That is the impossible conundrum that this generation navigates; we have access to information at our fingertips like never before, and yet we are so often totally immobalised by it.

What we can do is this.

We can take a moment in quiet to connect with the deepest, truest and most honest part of ourselves, and we can ask ourselves, 'what is mine to do here?'

Then do it.