Human

“He who conquers others is strong; he who conquers himself is mighty” - Lao Tzu

Several years ago, my first creative writing piece was published. The script began by reflecting on the notion of self-examination, and how as humans, there comes a time in each of our lives where we inevitably examine our level of contentment and satisfaction - often leading to change, and a differing course on our path. The piece reviewed the idea of being different, and of overcoming.

I then continued my studies, and both during and post my degrees, found inspiration in the clients who sat before me. Their stories and their courage inspired me; and coinciding with my own life journey, I found meaning in pursing a vocation dedicated to advocating for the vulnerable. This led to my contributions to Bully Zero Australia; and in the midst of 2023, I was awarded Lifeline Canberra’s Rising Woman of Spirit award. With utter humbleness and gratitude, I continued to work alongside those who were struggling, and remained a voice for them more than ever before. The same barriers and stereotypes I witnessed in my first few years as a university student, proved to still exist after all those years - and alongside the birth of my children, I knew it was imperative to continue to speak up for those who felt silenced, with the mere hope of doing my part, and leaving the world, if only, a bit better.

Most notably, my work for Bully Zero highlighted the impacts of being a victim to abuse - a victim to behaviour, by another party, that was consistently conducted with a purpose to hurt. As a community, we collectively sat, reflected, and read the stories of others; and a gentle understanding arose - that people who bully are often victims themselves. Said understanding aided in our own ability to comprehend, empathise, and forgive - pillars in the notion of cycle-breaking.

It has now been seven years since my first publication, and in that time, the woman within me has grown. I have witnessed the seasons, continued to write, and basked in both vulnerability and light. I have held heartbreak, and I have caressed joy; and as the days continue, I find myself grappled by a notion still worth examining - one that is prevalent in its existence. This time, this reflective piece is not about changing the course of a life, or about being hurt by another through the phenomena of bullying; but rather about a silent occurrence that has consisted in being brought to my attention throughout my education, professional development, and whilst working on the frontline. This piece is about an unspoken truth, something that often lingers below the surface, and that I have personally reflected on in great depth over the past few months: the notion of being human, and of forgiving our own selves.

When we know better, we do better. These words are a saying I hold near; one that comes up often when working alongside others in the therapeutic setting; and one that does not discriminate against myself. In truth, when I look back on my own life, with the knowledge I now have, shame can sometimes submerge over me. I think about the places I have been, the mistakes I have made, and the influences I have been under - whether emotive, such as grief and loss; or physical, such as people. I am, at times, haunted by the not remembering - the period encapsulated in a complexity of trauma that is flooded with the symptom of forgetfulness - like a magnifying glass zeroing in on all the things I might have done wrong, without the certainty of clarity; where irrational triumphs logic every time.

I remember the day I turned 18, and the first tattoo I got that same morning. On my right wrist, a subtle crucifix is placed. It was my intention that in becoming an adult, every decision I made would be one that aligns with my catholic faith - of good, and of willing the good of others. Whether it was writing to someone, or the action of doing - I knew my right hand would be the mere connector between myself and others, and I believed with utter conviction that I would only ever be ‘good’ and without flaw as I entered and remained in adulthood. I now know that did not occur, nor should it have needed to, nor is it realistic. And so how? How do we sit with the uncomfortable? How can we find practical ways to forgive ourselves for the things we did not know so we can begin to heal?

1. A problem shared is a problem halved.

Often, it is useful to talk to someone about our difficulties. Whether it be a family member, a friend, a mentor, a spiritual advisor, or a mental health professional, speaking through our burdens often provides both respite and guidance on strategies moving forward. Knowing we are safely held in another’s mind and heart during a difficult season reinstates our biological need for connection - something ever so imperative in the midst of struggle.

2. The opportunity to make amends.

If it is safe to do so, saying ‘sorry’, or correcting a mistake can aid in relief. On a level that varies from private, a personal example of amendment can be my writing contributions. I have often gone back to reflections I have published, and examined where I was at the time of writing. Being open to reevaluating my work, examining whether the information I have been told has been fact-checked, reviewing the clarity of the messages I have hoped to convey, and considering if there is opportunity to enhance said messages shifts the idea of ‘conclusive’, and moves to more of a ‘growth perspective’. With the support of the organisations who have published my work, there has, at times, been opportunity to amend my work to ensure clarity, and provide further perception from what time has taught.

3. A lesson learnt.

If anything, learning from what has occurred is perhaps the most powerful opportunity that can arise from the act itself. Acknowledging mistakes, putting lessons learnt into practice, and building a growth mindset through the support of a community takes something difficult that happens and transforms it into something that can be life-giving.

 Adulthood does not automate exemption to being without flaw, nor does it provide immunity to mistake-making. There are still lessons, if more than ever, to be learned when we work, hold responsibilities, and are responsible for others. When trauma reinforces that we should have done things differently, healing offers an alternate perspective - that perhaps each one of us did the best we could with what we knew at the time - based on the people we were connected to and their influences on us, our genetic make up, how we were nurtured, the nature in which we were raised, and how previous difficulties have embedded within our bodies, changing our biological makeup.

As we recognise our shared humanity - our trauma responses, the mistakes we have made with and without full knowledge, our survival mechanisms, the chapters where we were the villains in our stories, and the relentless prosecution we place on our own selves, as if preparing ourselves to be without mercy in the law of public opinion - may there be peace in knowing two things. One - that to be able to truly sit beside others in their darkness, we, ourselves, must have an understanding of our own; and two - that we are ultimately defined by our courage in moving forward.

So in the name of doing better, and of hope, and of the empathy we have learnt to practice on others through ‘Brave’ - now transformed into ‘Zero In’, may we indulge ourselves with that same respect. May we invest in self-care, fervently reach out to our networks, and bask in the notion that no one has ever been able to maintain a life without flaw. May we try our best to comprehend that the path within our own minds between probable cause and proof beyond a reasonable doubt is complex, deserving of context, potentially influenced by an increase in hyper vigilance and a defensiveness grounded in fear, and often tainted by our own insecurities. If we, as humans, can substitute judgement with the offering of compassion, support, and education in moving forward, then the transforming of shame to healing is indeed possible.

Franchesca Isla