“He’s sure got a lot of gall, to be so useless and all”— Bob Dylan

When working with recovering addicts, some days are tough. My sense of confidence gets shaken.

Last week I had one of those days.

A fistfight broke out between two residents at a treatment center. The fight ignited during what are typically some calm and friendly moments before a group gets going.

The eruption happened so quickly that I didn’t react. I may have been experiencing what trauma therapists call derealization. Derealization accounts for the statements some people make after witnessing an upsetting event.

• “It was just like something out of a movie”

• “I saw it happen in slow motion”

• “It’s like I was in a fog”

• “I can’t believe what I just saw”

There could be another reason for my inaction: My training as a therapist. Getting physically involved-even to protect clients—has been strictly forbidden in all my previous jobs. Legal concerns stemming from psychology’s history of inhumane restraints have taught people in my field to use only verbal de-escalation techniques. Government agencies strictly forbid holds and restraints in almost all types of behavioral health facilities. The result has been that when things get physical—even in a locked facility—therapists often call the cops. So my training from previous jobs may have played a role in my inaction.

Besides derealization and de-escalation training, a third D contributed to my awkwardness at the moment. Being Dutch. My people, the Dutch, are not physically aggressive people. We are known for Calvinism, bike riding, and tulips. People with last names like VanderKlay or DeHaan just don’t get in many physical altercations.

So when two people I knew—and liked—started slugging it out, I just stood there like a tourist watching a parade go by.

Even after the two were separated, I just kind of stood around being useless. My theory has always been that there are when tensions run high, there’s not much you can do other than bring down the tension. I refer to this as letting some air out of the room. I am probably correct about this. But, it is another factor that preferences inaction.

Did I do the right thing? Was it a bad time to talk? Was there something I could have done to help the situation? I don’t know.

In the past, I’ve been able to make some headway toward peaceful resolutions to conflicts. I’ve been able to listen and find a pathway forward. But, these moments are different. They are typically in situations where I am working one-on-one with someone.

In these situations, there is some control of the scene. I am alone with one person in an office. There are no spectators to rile up tempers.

What do I do going forward? That’s an even more important question. Do I reach out to the fighters? Do I facilitate a few groups on forgiveness? Would such groups be perceived as intrusions, as blaming, as culturally tone-deaf, as unrelatable?

I guess I’ll stand here like a statue and mull things over some more.

Here is a song by Dylan that captures my lethargy, inaction, and overly cerebral mood quite well.