Mary's Skunk and PTSD

Once upon a time, Mary may indeed have had a little lamb.  I'm sure it was a cute, fluffy thing.  Several months back, the animal belonging to Mary was a skunk.  Which she gave to me, she said, because it matched my outfit and because I reminded her of Liza Minnelli.  Okay.

Mary's skunk was about 50cm long, a cute and fluffy stuffed animal.  I said, "thank you" when she gave it to me because when people give you a skunk, or any other stuffed animal for that matter, it's just polite to express gratitude.

I named the skunk Liza.  Seemed fitting.

I took Liza to one of the preschools in Rikuzentakata where I decided to put it to good use.  To my knowledge, there are no skunks in Japan.  (Correct me if I'm wrong.)  Would the kids know what animal this is?  They did.  Cue my cloak-and-dagger way of introducing the topic of feelings.  Liza would help.

"Do you know what skunks do when they get scared or angry?"
Several hands shoot up and there is general consensus.
"It farts," the kids say, and we alternate between giggling and guffawing.
"Right," I say.  "When a skunk gets scared it farts.  What do you do when you get scared?"  Before anyone can answer, I add, "Do you fart?"
More giggles.
"Nooooo.  We don't fart," one girl says.
"I don't either," I say.  "What do you do then?"
Silence.
Slowly, hands go up.
"I go to my mommy," another girl says.  I nod.
More silence.
"What about when you get angry?  What do you do then?"
A boy says, "I hit.  Especially if it's my brother."  I want to laugh but don't.
This is good.  We're talking about feelings--a topic not usually discussed--today Liza's presence makes this seem normal.
"What about when you're sad?"  I say.  "Do you cry?"
Almost all of the children nod.
"It's okay to cry," I say.  "Did you know that?"  Some heads nod.

In a culture where open displays of emotion are a no-no (especially of raw anger and deep sadness) even talking about how we express our feelings is not the norm.  There are exceptions, certainly.  Exceptions, by definition, are not the norm.  The foreign auntie is allowed to use tools to begin this dialogue.  I don't abuse this position, choosing carefully what to do when, what to talk about with whom.  For children living in an environment where the abnormal is now normal, I stand by my belief they need the vocabulary to talk about feelings.

If we don't talk about the collective trauma experienced by a disaster--any disaster--the simple fact is we internalize.  People of varying skills (some lacking altogether) have come up to Tohoku offering PTSD "counseling" over the past three years.  Aside from the fact few are qualified to counsel, the emphasis on PTSD--in particular, the "P"--is disturbing.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder contains the word "post".  As in, "in the past".  As in, "we're not traumatized now."  This is misleading.  It's wrong.  Never mind the qualifications (for now) of those who mean well.  The first fact that needs acknowledging is this:  it's not PTSD if you're still going through trauma.

Focus on the today's trauma.  Focus on the fact life is painful still today.  Let's not rush into telling anyone they're suffering from PTSD when in fact trauma is a part of daily life.  It's not past tense.  It's TSD.  Not PTSD.

Which is why Liza the skunk is necessary.  Not one to superimpose my beliefs on others, here I take exception.  I see no good coming out of maintaining the belief internalizing pain is good or brave.  At the very least, allow the kids to express.

Kick, hit, cry, laugh. 
It's time.