On 30 December 2021, 7-9pm CST we gathered in social media application, Clubhouse to participate in an online vigil, created and led by Vietnamese adoptee Adam Chau. The event was organised in conjunction with Christian Hall’s family who created the physical in-person vigils at various cities around the USA. The purpose of the vigils was to honour Christian’s life, raise awareness about and bring the impacted communities together in solidarity to seek Justice for Christian Hall. You can read their latest articles here and here.
A number of adoptee guests were invited to share our thoughts for the online vigil: Kev Minh Allen (Vietnamese American adoptee), Lynelle Long (Vietnamese Australian adoptee), Kayla Zheng (Chinese American adoptee), Lee Herrick (Korean American adoptee).
I share with you what I spoke about in honour of Christian Hall.
My name is Lynelle Long, I’m the founder of Intercountry Adoptee Voices (ICAV). I’d like to thank you Adam Chau for organising this online event today in honour of Christian. Thankyou Nicole, Christian’s cousin who is on our call, for allowing us to join in with this vigil. I’m so sorry for your family’s loss! It’s a privilege to be able to speak. I am a person with lived experience of intercountry adoption and like Christian Hall, I am of Chinese descent … except I was born in Vietnam and adopted to Australia, whereas he was born in China and adopted to the USA.
The common thread that unites me with Christian Hall is that we both experienced abandonment as an infant. No matter what age we are, for an adoptee, loss of our first family as abandonment/relinquishment is a raw and painfully traumatic experience. It stays with us throughout life in the form of bodily sensations and gets easily triggered. When this happens, these sensations flood our body as fear, panic, anxiety.
Worse still is that when our abandonment occurs as an infant, we have not developed a language as a way to understand our experience. We are simply left with pre-verbal feelings (bodily sensations). It took me over 20 years until I read the first book, The Primal Wound by Nancy Verrier which changed my life in terms of coming to understand how abandonment and adoption had impacted me. That book was the first to help give words to the experience I felt up until then, as an entirely somatic experience, as uncomfortable sensations in my body, that I hadn’t understood, which I’d spent my life running away from every time they re-emerged.
The other common thread that unites me with Christian Hall is that we both experienced suicidal ideation and attempts. For him, it tragically meant the end of his life by police officers who did not understand his traumas. For me, after numerous failed attempts and ending up in ER, it meant a long process of awakening to the trauma I had lived. 20+ years later, I have spent most of this time helping to awaken our society to what adoption is really about for us, the adopted person.
Being adopted never leaves us. We might try to escape and pretend that it has no impact but deep down to our core, our abandonment wires almost every aspect of our being – most importantly, how we connect or not to others around us and to ourselves. At its core, intercountry adoptees experience loss of identity, race and culture. Unless we have supports around us that understand and help us to overcome the trauma of abandonment early on, we stumble in the dark, completely unaware of how our abandonment impacts us. Many adoptees call it “being in the fog” until we become awakened. Today, decades after Nancy Verrier first wrote her amazing book, we now have many, many books written by adoptees who are THE experts of our own lived experience. These books are a written testament to the complexities we live through adoption and how this impact us.
In the past 2 months, I have worked with others to speak out about the impacts of abandonment and adoption trauma and the direct connection to risk of suicide. I acknowledge that Christian’s family do not relate his tragic death to suicide, but I suspect his feelings of abandonment were triggered as key events led to him being on the bridge that day. I hope that more adoptive families will educate themselves about the complexities we live as people who get disconnected from our origins via intercountry adoption. There are almost 2 million of us worldwide and we are speaking out en-masse to help the world understand it is not a rainbows and unicorns experience. We require lifelong supports from professionals who are trauma and adoption trained. In America alone, there are hundreds of thousands of intercountry adoptees – America remains the biggest receiving country in the world. Too many are struggling emotionally every day, yet in the USA, there is still no free national counselling service for intercountry adoptees and their families. There is also NO national post adoption support centre in the USA funded to help intercountry adoptees grow into adulthood and beyond. Isn’t it a huge shortcoming that the largest importer of children in the world has no lifelong supports fully funded, equitable, freely accessible – how can America expect positive outcomes for children who are amongst the most vulnerable if we don’t fund what we know they need?
I never knew Christian personally. I only discovered him through his death. I wish I had known him. From the many intercountry adoptees I connect to, I know we gain so much emotionally from being connected to others just like us. Being connected to our peers helps reduce those feelings of isolation, helps us understand we aren’t the only ones to experience life this way, helps connect us to sources of support and validation that we know has worked. I wish Christian had met our community. I’ll never know if it would have made the difference so that he wasn’t there that day on that bridge. As an adoptee, I suspect Christian most likely wanted help that day, help to ease his hurting soul, not death.
Also, let’s take a moment to remember his biological family in China. Whether they ever truly had a choice in his relinquishment, we’ll probably never know but from my knowledge in this field, it’s most likely not. Christian’s adoption was likely the result of the 1-Child Policy era in China where thousands of families were forced to relinquish their children, many of them ending up intercountry adopted like Christian. Please take a moment to consider that through adoption, his biological family don’t even have the right to know that he has passed away.
The travesty in adoption is that trauma is experienced by all in the triad (the adoptee, the adoptive family, the biological family) yet the traumas continue to go largely unrecognised and unsupported in both our adoptive and birth countries. We must do better to prevent the unnecessary separation of families, and where adoption is needed, ensure that families undertake adoption education, learning about its complexities in full and having free equitable access for life to the professional supports needed.
My huge thanks to his extended and immediate family for being brave and opening themselves up thru all this trauma and allow these vigils where his life and death can be honoured for the greater good. I honour the pain and loss they’ve lived and thank them immensely for allowing our intercountry adoptee community to join in with them in support.
If you would like to support Christian’s family and their push for justice, please sign the petition here.
If you would like to better understand the complexities involved in intercountry adoption as experienced by adoptees, our Video Resource is a great place to start.Wouldn’t it be amazing to create a resource like this to help educate first responders to better understand the mental health crises that adoptees experience.
by Lina Vanegas adopted from Colombia to the USA, MSW.
It is imperative that we start talking openly and honestly about adoptee suicide. Adoptees are 4 times more likely to attempt suicide. This is an alarming number and most people are not even aware of this fact. Too many adoptees are dead and dying. Adoptees are not seen as a marginalised group. Our lived experience of vulnerabilities and being exposed to complex trauma is unacknowledged by society. Adoptees are thought of as “lucky”, “saved/rescued”, having been given a “better life” and many expect us to be grateful which is really the narrative we need to dismantle for society to see us, validate us, support us and create an inclusive, safe and affirming world for adoptees.
Suicide is such an uncomfortable and tough topic to discuss. Society tends to avoid conversations when they are uncomfortable. Change and growth happen from discomfort. The community needs to lean into these conversations quickly because adoptees are dying. The discomfort that community members feel is nothing compared to the immense pain, loneliness, sadness that people who contemplate suicide, attempt suicide and die by suicide feel. People who have lost a loved one to suicide are also in a lot of pain.
Our conversations around adoptee suicide needs to be framed for community members around the fact that being separated from our mothers is trauma which can predispose us to mental health issues such as PTSD, depression, suicide and also addiction, eating disorders, self harm, and toxic relationships. Once people are able to grasp the trauma from separation, I think they will be able to understand how it predisposes adoptees to mental health struggles. There is a conflict between what people hear about adoption and believe to be true and the reality of adoption. Once people learn the reality of adoption, I think it will be easier for them to grasp the mental health crisis adoptees are experiencing.
In order to support adoptees, we need to have community members that understand adoptees. Community members need to understand that the symptoms they see in adoptees that are mental health related are most often a result of our trauma. If people can understand this, I think that empathy and understanding around adoptee suicide will be much greater. Adoptees also need to be understood in every system and institution so that they can be seen and helped. For an example, if an adoptee goes to a psychiatric hospital or emergency room because they attempted suicide or have a plan of suicide and the providers there do not understand adoption trauma, then there is no way they can help the adoptee with their trauma. The provider will most likely diagnose and prescribe medication to the adoptee. This will do nothing to help the adoptee deal with their trauma and begin to heal.
It would be beneficial if there were adoptee support groups that were readily available and advertised. Many of us are a part of these groups but they generally function through word of mouth. It would be great if the mental health field professionals would do more research on adoptees. We need the American Foundation of Suicide Prevention to do research specifically on adoptees. The research would then be able to inform awareness, education, prevention and support around adoptee suicide. It is important that the barriers for adoptees seeking medical, mental, therapeutic or psychiatric help are evaluated and then solutions are made to make things more affirming, inclusive and safe for adoptees. If adoptees are not seeking help, then they will not be able to receive help and we want to make sure they are seeking help when needed and that it is easily accessible. For example, it is very triggering and scary to go to the doctor without a medical history and it is a huge trigger to be asked each time -”Do you have any updates on your family medical history?” or “What is your family history?.” It is also triggering to hear providers commentary on adoption when we tell providers we are adopted. I have spoken to many adoptees who have told me they avoid the doctor because of these reasons. I too have avoided appointments because it can be very triggering and taxing to continually explain myself and be in the place of having to feel like I need to educate the provider. Sometimes providers are receptive and other times they are very patronising which adds a lot to an already triggering situation. This kind of negative interaction can be a deterrent for any adoptee seeking further care.
It would be amazing if there was a crisis line for adoptees. A crisis line would be very validating because the adoptee would not need to explain themselves or adoption. Adoptees need resources and support that are safe, inclusive and affirming. Sometimes people feel more comfortable texting or picking up the phone than going in-person or on a zoom virtual call. It would also be really beneficial if when suicide deaths are recorded, that the adoption status of the person is included in the data. The information could be further broken down to include race, transracial domestic or intercountry adoption, or foster care experience. This would give us an idea of how to better shape awareness, education, support and prevention. It will also give us more accurate statistics on adoptee suicide.
One of the ways that the community can support adoptees living with suicide loss would be to first understand adoption and trauma and how suicide attempts and deaths are high in the community. That would be a huge step for adoptees to feel seen and heard. It is so painful to go through a suicide loss and it would be extremly validating to be understood. Experiencing suicide loss as an adoptee can bring up a lot of similar topics that one may struggle with around adoption such as abandonment, not being worthy or good enough, grief, trauma, loss, feeling alone, and many other things.
For families that have lost an adoptee to suicide, it would also be helpful for the community to understand adoption and trauma and the alarmingly high rates of suicide. Families should also have support services available to them which should include trauma informed and adoption competent mental health providers and support groups. We all need and deserve support dealing with suicide loss.
It would be great to have community members that can support adoptees and family members who are living with suicide loss by listening to them without judgement. Suicide loss for an adoptee is super complicated because we have already experienced so much loss and this is another trauma that can be very triggering. As a suicide loss survivor, I really appreciate anyone who can listen without judgement. It is essential to not ask questions like, why did they die, how did they die, did you know they were depressed, did they leave a suicide note. Again, listening is really the most validating and important thing that people can do for each other. If we do not understand suicide, then we should do our part to educate ourselves by reading, listening to blogs and attending events. We should not ask someone who has just lost someone to suicide to do the emotional labor of educating us. They are grieving and need our support.
We need to start talking about adoptee suicide now. It is not going away and the numbers are alarming. If we create awareness and education in our community, it will lead to a more inclusive, affirming and safe world for adoptees. Too many of us are dying or are dead. If we are feeling safe and comfortable, I encourage people to have these conversations with others when the time arises. Every conversation can be beneficial and is an opportunity to plant seeds, create change, educate, create awareness, talk about prevention and begin to address the issue of adoptee suicide which will lead to saving lives. I would love to live in a world where the suicide statistics for adoptees are greatly reduced and ideally non-existent.
A Trauma-Focused Equine-Assisted Psychotherapy Experience
Yesterday, I met with Linda for another equine-assisted psychotherapy (EAP) session. I had not planned on requesting a session, but Alice, who has been “helping” me learn and practice with Mateo, is out of town this week, and I felt the need to process my last practice session with Mateo, which Alice video recorded for my Natural Lifemanship (NL) Intensive training video assignment. Mateo is a 20-year-old Mustang who was rounded up by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), and for the first 10 years of his life, had a variety of training experiences. He was then adopted but didn’t get much human interaction. As a result, he returned to a somewhat feral state and became very untrusting of humans. He was then adopted by another individual who provided guidance, patience, and lots of positive reinforcement, and he is enjoying life more in relationship with his herd of horses and humans. Alice is a trained equine specialist, and Linda is an equine-facilitated psychotherapist. Linda is also trained in NL. Equine-assisted therapists and equine specialists, or equine professionals as they are called in NL, partner to facilitate therapy, and both have unique skill sets. One brings a clinical perspective and the other, a horse perspective to the therapy process. The Intensive training I’m currently in is Level Two of NL certification. It’s quite different from the Level One Fundamentals training I just completed, which I greatly enjoyed and learned so much from.
It’s so good to come into this morning’s therapy session with Linda knowing that there is no expectation, except for the one to just let go and have absolutely no agenda with the horse. I don’t need to do anything but just be. It is a warm day, but not as hot as my previous practice session with Mateo and Alice when it was 91 degrees out, unseasonably warm for southern California and even warmer in the direct sun. My phone overheated for Pete’s sake as we were recording. Before my therapy session begins, I tune into the birds singing, the pitch of their song fluctuates ever so slightly. I try my best to attune to my body and my surroundings. I feel grounded and present in this moment. I feel warmth in my gut and chest, and this warmth extends to my extremities. As suggested by one of my NL trainers, I purposely expand my visual circumference as a way to stay connected to my body…to be present and to engage my whole brain. I take in the trees around me, all of the different horses as I walk past their stalls, their color and markings, the sound of soft nickers and neighs, the sweet smell of hay mixed with horsey smells, which I can almost taste. I enjoy the calm, gentle breeze that caresses my face and arms. I bring to mind that I am the client today, not the therapist in this moment. What transpires in therapy is important for me to capture and recall not only in my mind, but body.
It’s good to see Linda. Our last session was about a month ago. We have built a great therapeutic rapport, and today, I feel more comfortable and at ease in her presence. I think fleetingly of my own trauma history, how I lived primarily in the lower regions of my brain, the survival part, for some time, hyper-vigilant, fearful. The neural pathways here have been “muscled up” over the years, causing disconnect between the upper and lower regions of my brain. The result: fear, alarm, insecurity, shame, difficulty regulating my body at times. I have become increasingly aware of this during my NL training. I recognize that I can be easily triggered at the hint of stress or anxiety, no matter the situation, as the brain and body remember, but in particular during situations of interpersonal conflict.
I share with Linda the deep disappointment I felt after video recording my assignment with Mateo. I recall to her how I had come into the session feeling anxious, worried, and pressured about shooting the video, as I only had an hour to “get what I needed” for my assignment. Truly, that wasn’t enough time. The heat was suffocating that afternoon, and Mateo was spooked by a very large, silver trailer parked to the right of the round pen, an unfamiliar object that caused his arousal system to amp up. This caused my arousal system to go up, too. I have not particularly liked working in the larger pen. I prefer the smaller round pen, which offers a bit of privacy and feels more intimate, but it was under construction. In a nutshell, internally, I was all over the place, and Mateo, who is quite sensitive to pressure and expectation, picked up on it immediately. Horses, because they are prey animals, are extremely attuned to their environment, hyper-vigilant. They’re wired this way for safety. They rely upon their herd mates for safety and connection. They’re social animals and can build deep, connected relationships with their herd mates, much like human relationships. They’re extremely sensitive to what comes up in humans internally, one of the reasons why they are such wonderful therapy partners.
Alice continued to instruct me as she recorded my video. “Turn around this way and see if he follows you…,” etc. I felt stiff and awkward. When someone is dysregulated, there is a disconnect between their brain and body occurring. Giving verbal instructions or cues may cause the individual to attempt to stay in their neocortex (thinking/upper part of brain); however, it only causes further disconnect and dysregulation. The brain has trouble processing all of the stimuli. We need to communicate with the part of the brain that will help that person calm down. I needed bottom-up regulation, or movement and sensory input that would address the lower regions of my brain (primitive brain). No matter what I tried, I couldn’t regulate myself, and though she was only trying to help, Alice unknowingly increased the disconnect between my brain and body with her verbal cues. When I reviewed my video later, I was amazed at how arhythmic my movements appeared as I worked with Mateo. I was having a hard time taking in instruction while trying to regulate my body and connect with Mateo.
I explain to Linda that Mateo spent most of the practice session resisting my requests for connection. He was not to blame him. I would not have wanted to be around me either. Alice informs me later than when a horse picks up on all that messy internal stuff, humans can actually appear fuzzy to them, which to a horse is unsafe and unpredictable. Some horses avoid us when this occurs. This is vital information for a therapist to be aware of during a therapy session, as the horse is picking up on what’s happening in the client’s body. Sometimes, the client is so disconnected from their body that body sensations are outside of their conscious awareness, particularly when in a dissociative state. Each horse responds differently based on their own history, personality, window of tolerance, etc. Looking back, shooting that first video assignment was such a rich learning experience, as the feelings of frustration, helplessness, dysregulation, and anxiety I felt will certainly be experienced by clients I work with in the future. It’s part of the therapist’s role to help the client process how the horse responds to her and to begin to attune to her body sensations. I’m so glad that Mateo had the opportunity to resist…he had a choice. In this approach, we do not want to force a horse to do something he does not want to. Rather, we work on building trust and connection through attachment and detachment work. We want consent from the horse, not compliance or submission. Although it was quite frustrating in the moment, I’m grateful that I learned more about myself and Mateo and recognize how much anxiety I carry internally.
At the end of the session as I was talking to Alice, Mateo walked right over to me and touched my shoulder with his nose until I acknowledged him. I rubbed under his lower lip for several minutes, that soft, velvety area I love, which he typically doesn’t really like. Those moments were so tender, but rather than zoning in on that, I was so preoccupied with my own sense of “failure.” Alice said, He sees your “authentic self” now, not the one with expectation. I love that about horses. Yet, this was a lot to process.
Today, my therapy session begins in Mateo’s stall. I check in with myself prior to going in, placing a hand over my heart. “Breathe in, breathe out. Listen to the birds singing. Observe other horses in stalls next door in my peripheral vision.” I walk into Mateo’s stall and check in with him. I stand there for a few minutes just watching him eat hay from his hay bag. I’m wondering how much repair I may have to do with him because of the stress he experienced in our last practice session. Linda then walks over. She is standing just outside his stall. I move closer into Mateo and begin gently stroking his neck, attuning to my body sensations. “Stay calm, Mj. Breathe in, breathe out.” I observe Mateo chew, rhythmically. He loves his food. It feels good to stroke Mateo’s neck. I move to halter him, showing him the halter first, then gently drape the lead rope over his very tall neck. He puts his nose down to allow for the halter. Oh good! I was worried he would try to avoid me. After haltering Mateo and walking outside his stall, he almost trips over his feet. Linda and I notice that he has a limp, and as I walk him out and then around the stalls, it becomes more noticeable. Poor guy!!! I lead him back to his stall, as we don’t want to worsen whatever is going on. I hope it’s nothing serious. Linda asks me if I’d like to work with another horse, and I choose Journey. I’m so glad that I had the opportunity to work with Journey! Linda asks what differences I notice between Mateo and Journey as I introduce myself in his stall, stroking his nose and face. I notice immediately that Journey has a more mellow, maybe even more tolerant, temperament. We spend a few minutes together as I continue to stroke his neck and muzzle. He allows me to halter him, lowering his head as I bring the halter toward his nose. As we walk down the middle of the stalls to the round pen, he doesn’t try to eat the hay laying on the ground as Mateo always does. He stops at the large round pen, the one I don’t like working in, because this is where he’s usually turned out. But then, when I ask him to come with me, he eventually follows. The clip-clop of his hooves on the pavement is soothing. We enter the newly renovated round pen The pen feels smaller than before, and the dirt on the ground is different, more sandy. I feel slightly bothered by this, but try to be more curious.
We give Journey several minutes to settle in. He finally takes a roll, his front legs folding as he lowers himself to the ground. For horses to do this, they have to feel safe, so that’s a good sign! I love the sound horses make when they roll and how they shake themselves off afterwards. Linda and I commence with some EMDR at the beginning of the session. I feel vibration in my hands as I hold the buzzers. The buzzing alternates from one hand to the other. I honestly can’t remember fully what the focus was initially…I think it was on the anxiety I was feeling with Mateo and then what I was feeling in the present with Journey, but it usually shifts based on what comes up. Journey is standing at a slight distance from us as I’m processing, but my gaze is softly on him. At times, I look away, to take pressure off him – this is a thing for me, not wanting to put excessive pressure on the horse. Linda asks me several times what is coming up for me in my body. Mostly, I feel calm, perhaps slightly in and out of some anxiety related to how Journey feels about being with me. There it is…overthinking… Journey is a veteran at being with clients while they are doing EMDR, Linda tells me. What I notice the most is that I feel calmer and safer with Journey. He just seems more friendly and open than Mateo, and I am drawn to this. He feels like a friend and my co-regulator. I note this to Linda. It’s like, “I’m here for you.” In comparison, Mateo avoids me when I am experiencing increased anxiety.
As the session is nearing the end, Linda asks if there is anything more I’d like from Journey, like to move closer to him. I’m hesitant because I’m concerned how he might respond. I take some deep breaths and inch my way closer. Then I slowly reach out my hand, and he touches it with his nose. I begin stroking the side of Journey’s head and inch even closer until I’m so close that I could give him a hug. Unlike Mateo, Journey seems okay with touch and doesn’t jerk his head away.
Then I get brave and ask if I can work on attachment with connection with Journey. Linda moves outside of the pen. As I begin, I experience “butterflies,” as I remember how difficult it was with Mateo in my last practice session. I take some more deep breaths. I move my body around to put pressure on his back hip, focusing my body energy there, and start making clicking sounds. Journey doesn’t cooperate right away. He’s standing, looking away, or grazing the ground. I increase the pressure because he’s ignoring me by snapping my fingers, calling Journey’s name, clapping my hands, moving my arms up and down, making more clicking sounds while maintaining the pressure on his back hip. “I think I’m feeling gun shy in asking Journey for connection,” I say. After a couple more minutes, Linda aks, “What do you think might be preventing you from really making the request?” It suddenly dawns on me that I’m not committed to the request. I’m curious, why is that? I don’t believe I can ask! I muster more intention, and then Journey cooperates! He turns into me, and as I move, he follows, and we walk together, side by side, around the pen, calmly, rhythmically. When Journey sighs, I sigh. When he lets out a little raspberry sound, I do too. He gets a little distracted, so I ask to re-connect, and he again turns into me to follow. Our session soon ends. In processing with Linda, I realize that it’s very difficult for me to ask for what I need from others. I am afraid of being rejected. I do things myself to avoid asking. We discuss how it takes vulnerability to ask for our needs to be met. I can easily help others, submit to others or comply, but rarely do I ask for what I need.
Linda tells me that she saw the exact moment when something in me shifted as I asked for connection from Journey, and that’s when he turned and noticed me, then cooperated. A subtle, yet intentional shift in my body energy – I committed to the ask, internally. I asked for what I needed. I needed connection. Linda also noticed that when Journey got distracted and I asked for re-connection, Journey cooperated much quicker. So, something I’m observing in my work with both Mateo and Journey is that both horses get distracted and disconnect. I’m curious if it’s something in me that’s causing this…am I disconnecting, perhaps shifting into my neocortex and disconnecting from my body? Overthinking? Very likely. I think I get worried that the horse will disconnect instead of trusting that my horse will stay with me. Disconnection from the horse is akin to rejection (for me). I’m worried the horse will reject me, just like in human relationships. And rejection hurts…abandonment hurts. Something to explore as I continue my own personal work and practice.
That moment of connection with Journey was so sweet and memorable, as it was with Mateo. Because I have experienced that connection with Mateo previously, it was tough when he avoided me during my last practice session. And that my video assignment appeared so erratic to others when I know I have it in me to connect with a horse was hard. I must remind myself that it’s about the process, not perfection. I just began working with horses for the first time in March during the Fundamentals training, which was 10-weeks long. I literally had no horse experience prior. I will learn from these moments.
I truly long to own or lease my own horse so that I have access to practice more freely and without cost. I pay Alice weekly for her time with any one of the horses. I’ve had to get creative in finding ways to make this happen. It’s quite expensive to own and care for a horse properly, and things could happen at any moment regarding their health. Large vet bills are a concern. Despite these obstacles, my hope and dream is to have a private practice facilitating trauma-focused equine-assisted psychotherapy (TF-EAP) and to work specifically with adoptees. How this could bring such healing, connection, and growth. My personal work in equine-facilitated therapy has been healing in a much different way than traditional therapy. It has provided increased self-awareness and insight into my own body sensations, increased connection to self, an understanding of how working with equines helps build better human relationships, and it’s brought profound joy, feelings of safety, and connection with horses. I’m learning ways to better self-regulate, and this work is helping to building new neural pathways in my brain. It all takes time. My healing journey continues.
Although gaining access to work and practice with a horse is challenging, I keep on. It isn’t easy. When I begin to doubt myself, my former clinical supervisor, who is also trained in NL and practices TF-EAP, encourages me to not give up. She reminds me that I was drawn to this work for a reason. Perhaps it is a calling. This is not the end of the story.
*Names of humans have been changed to protect privacy.
ICAV (c) 2021. This article cannot be copied or shared without direct permission from Marijane.