Remaining trauma-informed while protecting both ourselves and those who rely on us for support can feel like walking a tightrope. It’s a precarious balance of boundary-setting and self-awareness, and it’s not always clear where one ends and the other begins.
Even when we take care to make decisions with compassion, integrity, and awareness, there’s no way to predict exactly how those decisions will land with others. This is particularly true when we’re holding responsibility—not just for ourselves, but for an organisation, those who give their time and energy to support it, and those who benefit from its work.
As a leader, I’ve learned that navigating these moments isn’t straightforward. You try to manage change, disappointment, or challenge in ways that are consistent with your mission and values, and yet… someone will always feel it could have been done differently.
That’s the human part of this work—our own experiences, histories, and wounds inevitably shape how we perceive decisions made by others. Sometimes those wounds mean that no matter how gently or thoughtfully you try to communicate, the impact still feels raw.
The Questions Behind Every Decision
For me, making decisions always comes with a set of internal questions:
- What is my motivation for making this decision?
- Am I angry? Am I frustrated?
- What emotions are at play here?
- What is my intention?
- Who does this decision serve?
- Who and how will it impact?
- What’s my learning here? What’s the learning for others?
I treat ego like the devil in these settings—“get thee behind me”—and instead try to view the situation through the lens of compassion and empathy.
I imagine walking around a compass in my mind:
- My view
- Their view
- Both views together
- The overall, big-picture view
I call this process internal conflict resolution—it’s the way I navigate the moments where decisions make me question myself.
The Truth at the Core
In the end, I’ve come to accept that there’s no perfect path—only the path that feels truest to your principles after you’ve considered all the options. That often means:
- Staying grounded in truth, even when it’s uncomfortable.
- Making space for compassion, even when it’s not returned.
- Holding boundaries firmly, even when they’re questioned.
- Accepting that not everyone will agree, even when you’ve acted with care.
Being trauma-informed doesn’t mean avoiding difficult decisions—it means making them with awareness of their potential impact, and doing so in a way that honours both your values and your wellbeing.
We can’t ensure that everyone feels completely supported all the time. But we can strive for transparency, empathy, and integrity—so that even when the outcome isn’t what someone hoped for, they can still trust that it came from a place of genuine care.
Because in the work we do, there’s one thing I know for certain: self-awareness and truth are not luxuries—they are essential to sustaining the kind of support that changes lives.