I Don't Know What I Don't Know: Chapter 1 and 2 (pages 7-38)

I have found myself saying this phrase a lot lately, "I don't know what I don't know," especially as I dig deeper into this MSW program and learn the complexities of the brain and mind, and the complexities of trauma within individuals, families, and the greater society. Sometimes it is nice not knowing what I don't know. There can be a sense of privilege in the innocence of not knowing. Yet as I learn and become more are of those around me, I cannot help but change to, "Now that I know what I know, what can I do about it?" 

Considering the stories van der Kolk shares within the first chapter of The Body Keeps the Score, it seems likely, when reflecting into his first year as a staff psychiatrist at Boston's VA Clinic, he and others may have been saying, "I don't know what I don't know." Many did not know what the combat veterans had seen and experienced walking throughout the jungles of Vietnam. Many combat veterans came home from the Vietnam War with no welcome home party or parade. Many were sent immediately back into their employment before they went to war or back to their families without support. As van der Kolk met with veterans, he was able to empathetically meet them where they were at and change the phrase with a response of amazing discoveries of what happens to the brain in PTSD. He writes, "We have learned that trauma is not just an event that took place sometime in the past; it is also the imprint left by that experience on mind, brain, and body" (p. 21). This imprint, as van der Kolk continued to learn from his research, studies, and, most importantly, his client, left ongoing effects for how the survivor manages to survive. If it was not for van der Kolk's efforts, many would still be living with the phrase, "I do not know what I do not know."

In reflecting on van der Kolk's process and approach, I think we can learn a lot from that humble attitude towards continual learning from the clients we encounter. While I know it is extremely valuable to look at science, research, and theory, which I believe van der Kolk values too, I also appreciated his desire to also understand and learn from his clients. They are the ones who are living their stories; we are honored with the privilege of hearing them. They are participants in their own healing; we are honored with the privilege of walking with them towards their healing.

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I am the daughter of a Vietnam War PTSD survivor.

My dad served in the Vietnam War for seven months between 1968-1969. He was in the 101st Airborne Infantry. In other words, part of his deployment included walking through the jungles of Vietnam looking for the enemy to either kill or capture. He carried a heavy pack on his back with all his belongings. He carried weapons. He was twenty-two years old.

He returned home from war ten days before my oldest sister was born. They first lived in a small apartment in Sioux Center where my mom had lived while he was away, but they quickly moved to a small mobile home in Le Mars. The world he had lived for the past seven months was not the world he moved back to in NW Iowa. He recalls now how he had no one to process what he did and saw in Vietnam. He had a wife who patiently tried to help him through it while also caring for a baby, who, as he recalls, cried a lot. It was a very difficult time for him.

In my growing-up years, he never talked about his Vietnam experience. On occasion, my mom would reveal brief stories of how she, her sister, and brother-in-law met him at the Sioux Falls airport when he returned. He was so thin; she did not recognize him. She would make sure we would not watch any war movies when he was at home, especially Platoon or Hamburger Hill, telling us they would give him nightmares. He never hunted or owned a gun. He hates firework shows. 

My dad has a huge heart, especially those who are hurting after a loss of a spouse or a loved one. He loves to be in his woodshop creating new things to share with others. He has worked hard his entire life.

Fifty years following his return from Vietnam my dad was diagnosed with PTSD by the VA Hospital. Having this diagnosis was a turning point for him, giving him relief from the memories he held in his mind. And he began to tell us his stories! He told us stories of pure terror and stories of amazing grace and protection from God. It was as if he had been holding in those stories for years and found the freedom to let them go. For years he was ashamed of what happened in Vietnam. He felt guilty for being one of the survivors. Now he is deeply proud of the sacrifice he gave in honor of our country. You can read more of his story here. 

Recently, for a class project in his U.S. History class, my 8th-grade son interviewed my dad. He proudly shared story after story. Then, he went to his storage room and retrieved all of his old uniforms, his combat boots, and hats. He had kept it all! He says he does not know why he decided to keep them. I suspect, as I know more about what PTSD does, it was likely because of the trauma he had experienced that he could not let go of those uniforms. But, that afternoon, he gave a jacket to my son. It may have taken fifty years to find healing, but it can and does happen.