Rejecting The Status Quo and Embracing Limitations to Realise Potentials
By Quyn Lê Erichsen, M.Ed., RCC, CHt
In this article, I’d like to share with you my journey of rejecting the status quo and embracing the dark aspects of my self-identity.
(This article was written for the Insight Magazine, published by the B.C. Association of Clinical Counsellors in 2016.)
I was born in Vietnam, a country where many blind people were either begging or selling lottery tickets on the street. As blind individuals, our status quo was such that we were among the underprivileged, the voiceless, the uneducated, the invisible and the outcast of society. For many other blind people, they were rejected or abandoned by their families, as they were regarded with shame by their families.
Having lost my total sight at the age of two due to a high fever, my parents rejected this status quo for me. They refused to let this be a part of my life path. And so they decided to flee from Vietnam to seek for a brighter future for all of us, especially for their blind daughter. They wanted to come to a place where freedom, security, education, possibilities and personal and professional opportunities are the norm rather than the exception.
My parents knew we had to give up everything we had in Vietnam, including our extended families and friends, a life that we had worked so hard to build, our culture, our homeland and possibly our own dignity and safety. We had to risk imprisonment, as escaping Vietnam was considered illegal. They knew we may have to bury our lives in the deep dark blue sea as thousands of Vietnamese boat people had. They knew that we could encounter pirates whom at best could rob our valuable possessions and sexually assaulted women and at worst could kill us all.
All of these fears came true for us. We landed in prison when I was seven years old. Our small rickety fishing boat drifted aimlessly on the Pacific Ocean for ten days because severe storms and merciless waves wiped out the engine of the boat. One hundred and twenty-six of us struggled with hunger, thirst, seasickness and total exhaustion. Pirates robbed our valuable possessions and sexually assaulted some women on the boat. We felt completely helpless, powerless and hopeless during those ten days. We really thought that death was near for us. And just as we almost gave up, a group of German men on a big ship came to rescue us.
If it wasn’t for my parents’ decision to leave Vietnam, if it wasn’t for my mom’s perseverance despite the hardship, I wouldn’t be here today. I wouldn’t be the therapist, speaker and radio host that I am today. Most of my blind friends from elementary school in Vietnam are now selling lottery tickets on the street to earn a few bucks a day, in the dangerous conditions of Vietnam’s streets, where it’s even difficult for sighted people to navigate safely.
Even after arriving in Canada, I noticed that the status quo for blind individuals here is not very empowering either. About seventy to eighty percent of sight-impaired individuals are unemployed and have to rely on government social assistance. Even if some blind people attend university, their jobs often don’t match with their degrees.
Born in a patriarchical culture, we Asian women were taught to be submissive, to please our men and to put our families first, even if it meant sacrificing our own needs. We were regarded as men’s properties. We were often valued for our motherhood, wifehood and outer beauty. Education, empowerment and career success were not considered the norms for women in Vietnam.
I witnessed how women were sexualized and raped by men. I witnessed how women were often beaten by their husbands. Women were made to feel ashamed of their sexuality and even their menstruation.
In Canada, the status quo for many refugees and first-generation immigrants often represent blue-collar or intensely laborious jobs. Due to the language barriers, many immigrants are underprivileged and marginalized. They frequently remain uneducated. They sometimes hold two jobs simultaneously to make ends meet. They could experience discrimination and prejudice in Canada.
Despite only having a grade-two education, I started grade nine immediately after I came to Canada. My English was also very basic. I told myself that the only way I knew how to change my status quo in Canada as a blind person, a woman and a refugee is to obtain a very good education. I knew that a B.A. wouldn’t be sufficient since many sighted people also have. I realized that I am passionate about counselling and I could imagine myself being a therapist one day.
However there were many obstacles ahead of me. I had to work extremely hard to improve my English. It took me three attempts in order to gain entry to university due to my lack of English skills and my lower grades. While doing my B.A. in psychology, I had to take courses that were very visual in nature, courses such as calculus, statistics, biology and neuropsychology. Some academic advisors advised me to give up psychology and consider other majors such as social work or sociology instead. I almost considered this advice. However in the end, deep in my heart I knew I loved psychology. I knew that there must be other unconventional ways for me to overcome these obstacles. Ironically, it turned out that I was able to obtain either an A or A+ in calculus and statistics. During my B.A., I was actually placed on the Dean’s Honour List.
The real obstacles came during my Masters-level training as a counsellor. I realized that I had the disadvantage of not being able to track others’ body language. It is widely known that seventy percent of our communication is non-verbal. Moreover, during role-plays and videotaped sessions, I really struggled with performance anxiety. I was considered one of the worse counselling students in terms of counselling skills. My chatter box was so overwhelming that it was very difficult for me to truly listen to my clients. One of my professors bluntly said to me, “If I were your client, I wouldn’t come back.” I felt as if my dream had shattered. I thought to myself, “Maybe I could never become a therapist.”
But I didn’t give up. My dream to become a therapist was just too strong, too real for me to ignore. Fortunately I also received a lot of concrete and emotional support from professors and peers. Whenever I watched videos of great psychologists, I visualized myself in their roles one day. I started to read many books about psychology. I attended conferences. I talked to mentors. I have since worked with hundreds and hundreds of clients coming from all walks of life in different kinds of settings, including palliative care, private practice, rehabilitation, domestic violence, traumas and addictions.
Even though I have worked in a few settings, it also wasn’t easy for me to find jobs. Many potential employers were reluctant hiring me, as they were concerned I couldn’t perform the various aspects and responsibilities of the jobs. Moreover, when I was interviewed by therapists, I was less likely to get the job. This actually happened at least four or five times. In one instant, there were a therapist and a manager who interviewed me for my very first job. The therapist couldn’t imagine that I could be a good counsellor in a palliative care setting as someone who was young and was fresh out of school. She was concerned about my ability to get around the hospital safely. However the manager saw my gifts beyond my blindness and my limitations as a young student. She saw my determination and my passion. And yes even though I did struggle in the job in the beginning, as any one would in a new job, I was able to do powerful work with terminally ill patients and bereaved individuals. Many clients and staff shared with me how meaningful it was working with me.
Initially I was afraid of being judged by others. I was afraid that my clients would think that I am incompetent because I am blind. I was afraid that my English wouldn’t be good enough to come across as an articulate therapist and to deeply understand what others say. I was afraid that other people wouldn’t respect my Asian background and my petite-looking appearance.
However over the years, what has really helped me is to be compassionate towards myself and to embrace all of my gifts as well as my limitations. Being a woman from a patriarchical culture has given me a deep understanding and compassion towards issues relating to gender hierarchy and domestic violence. Being a bi-cultural person has helped me appreciate the strengths and challenges of both collectivist and individualistic cultures and how people can integrate both cultures in order to live authentic lives. Being bi-cultural has also taught me the space between independence and dependence, which is interdependence. In other words, how can we honour and live according to our own needs, while still honouring and taking into account others’ needs. Collectivist cultures in the east tend to teach us to put others first and forget about ourselves and our own needs. Individualistic cultures in the west tend to teach us to honour our needs regardless of what others think. Hence being able to successfully negotiate both sides and balance our lives in such ways can help us to be true to ourselves while form closer bonds with our loved ones.
I have also come to embrace the strengths and challenges of my blindness. Blindness has taught me not to be afraid of the dark. It has taught me how to navigate in the dark with my clients without being enveloped by the dark itself. Blindness has also taught me to not be distracted by others’ outer appearances and to help them look deep into their minds, their hearts and their souls to find their true gifts and their own answers. I have realized that blindness doesn’t have to deter me from tracking others’ non-verbal language. With skills and experience, I can still detect the nuances in their voices, words, body movements and more. When my mind is quiet, my heart is open and my soul is calm and wise, I can even sense the moods and the energy of others. As adopting unconventional ways of doing things has helped me find my own path, I often encouraged and invited others to embrace their uniqueness and explore non-traditional ways of looking at their challenges and approaching their situations. I realize that my blindness can serve as a symbol of adversities, humility, vulnerability, hope, triumphs and more. I wish to help others around me understand that we don’t have to be perfect to live a perfect life. Our imperfections can help us find a path and live a life that is just right for us.
Our clients can be extremely skilled in convincing us how hopeless their situations are. Because I have faced my own physical and emotional darkness, I truly appreciate the resilience of us as human beings. In my personal and professional life, I have the honour of witnessing how others have found their ways out of the dark. And so no matter how hopeless my clients’ situations are and how insurmountable their obstacles seem, I have an innate faith in them that they can make it, particularly if they don’t give up and if they receive lots of support. What I have realized is that by believing in others and bearing witness to their suffering, it can become a compelling motivating factor for them to go on and not to give up. My belief in them in turn becomes the support for them to press on.
To conclude this article, I’d like to ask you the following questions:
What are your personal and professional limitations?
Have you been able to embrace these limitations with self-compassion?
What are your strengths and gifts?
How can you use them to rise above your challenges?
Do you tend to see strengths or challenges in your clients?
And if you see challenges, as we all do in order to help our clients, what can help you to have faith in them and truly believe in their ability to overcome their challenges?