December 2024 | Part II: Interview with Ewa Dobiala, Polish Psychiatrist and Psychotherapist
I believe we cannot stop wars if we cannot integrate our traumas. Our unintegrated parts, after the post-traumatic fragmentation of our personalities, create the next conflict and the next war.
The 100 young people who passed away from fentanyl addiction in Żuromin were from my generation and my children’s generation. I feel I also carry this transgenerational pain and systemic patterns. When my grandmother passed away in 1981, my grandfather still lived in our house in Żuromin. He decided that I would be the one to take care of the house and the family history, even though I wasn’t the oldest and I was only two years old. I’m one of eleven in my generation. This delegation of responsibility was a heavy burden to bear. He gave me the history, not the others. He only said we were “pre-war kids who didn’t exist anymore.” He never spoke openly about what this sentence really meant to him or about the Jewish population.
It is not easy to tell any kind of story because I would not like to share a story that isn’t true. We already have too many untrue stories in the world. When it comes to the past, I only know what I feel. And I know that we’ve all created stories that help us cope with our pain, shame, and fear. But these stories don’t honor everyone. They are different, just as we all have different histories.
Our ancestors each had different histories in this part of Poland before the events of 85 years ago. When my grandfather spoke about the pre-war world, there was a deep longing and pain in his voice. He was mostly Polish with some Jewish heritage.
I remember we had a picture in our house by the TV. It was the only pre-war photo—his parents, himself, a younger brother, and a third person, a boy. I asked many times who it was, but he would never say. This is how I grew up.
During the war, my family wasn’t able to live in Żuromin. They were displaced by Germans. I heard bits and pieces of stories, like how my grandfather would walk back on foot during the night with Jewish boys. They couldn’t go all the way together because it was much more dangerous for the Jewish boys, who could be easily identified by their circumcision. I was never able to connect all these stories. The grip of dissociation was so strong that I never even thought to ask him.
My grandfather passed away in 2015. I had to sell the home. It was 400 km from my home, and I always felt the tensions intensely whenever I went back. I knew I couldn’t use this money for myself, so I built a mental health center and a Transcultural Positive Psychotherapy Center for students in Leszno. I got the keys to the centers on the first day of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Ukrainian therapists, who left and crossed the border into Poland along with a few million other Ukrainians, were able to stay at the Center.
In primary and high school, I was a really good student. I participated in a special educational program for gifted kids. But in the last grade of each school, when we learned the history of the 20th century, I ran away from the lessons. I wasn’t able to read those books. It simply made me physically ill.
I remember from my childhood when we were still a communist country, there was a version of history you could share at school and a different version you could share at home. It was dangerous to make a mistake. There are still aspects of Polish history we don’t talk about at all. We don’t talk about our transcultural heritage. I have no idea how many of us have Jewish or German roots. Probably most of us, descendants of pre-war small town and city residents, have Polish-Jewish, Polish-German, or both roots. We do not talk about this. So, what does that mean for us on an emotional level?
My youngest daughter, Joanna, in her late teens, had dreams and nightmares for months and she painted the images coming through her. These images often were not personal but seemed to well up from collective unconscious memories.
It’s great to feel I’m Polish. I deeply love my homeland. At the same time, I react emotionally to more than just Polish history. Now, after 45 years, I understand why. I know I’m the grandchild of war survivors from different nations. Maybe that’s why I also react so strongly to the war in Ukraine and Gaza.
For the last three weeks of August, I’ve been running a support group for Ukrainian therapists at my center in Leszno. As a psychiatrist and psychotherapist, I’ve had amazing teachers who gave me the chance to understand the dynamics of trauma and emotional suffering. I often joke that I was studying psychiatry at the house of my hometown, and that was my greatest teacher!
As a trainer, the subject of trauma, stabilization, reconsolidation, and integration has always been close to my heart. I’ve been invited to many centers, and I recognize that I have a sensitivity for this work. I approach it with meaning and purpose. That’s why I conducted workshops in the Far East of Russia before the war in Ukraine. I share my knowledge with colleagues in other parts of the world, as well as with Ukrainian therapists working on the front lines.
Recently, I was in Armenia and Georgia. In Armenia, they still feel the trauma of their 1915 genocide. When you go there, you can feel it. In Georgia, the Russian army occupied South Ossetia in 2008. Their coping strategies are very different from those in Armenia.
I believe we cannot stop wars if we cannot integrate our traumas. Our unintegrated parts, after the post-traumatic fragmentation of our personalities, create the next conflict and the next war.
In contemporary Poland, I’ve seen anti-semitic attitudes a few times in people who have Jewish roots. Each time, it was deeply sad for me. Perhaps they haven’t had the opportunity to embrace that part of themselves with sensitivity and warmth. Maybe it still hasn’t been fully integrated. Their inner conflict is projected outward. That’s why it’s so important to truly remember who we are. It’s never as simple as being only Polish, only Jewish, or only German. We were never completely isolated in these groups.
The story of my father is Polish/Jewish/German, and I have no contact with my German family. After WWII, my paternal grandmother and her mother spoke German at home, but they didn’t want contact with their German relatives because of something that happened during the war. They may have come to Poland in the 19th century and established a German village near Tomaszów. In the 20th century, they lived in the middle of a Jewish part of the city. I have no idea why. My grandmother passed away in 1962, and my father, who was born in 1953, doesn’t remember much.
I met my German family once, at my grandmother’s grave. I was ten years old. My father said, “That’s Uncle Hans,” but neither of them approached the other. They stood there for maybe fifteen minutes.
At the beginning of WWII, the houses in the middle of the Jewish Quarter were bombed, and the Jewish people were taken to a camp near Tomaszów. I don’t really know much about that story. I found some information in the archives suggesting that my grandmother probably had siblings who were victims of the Nazis. Before the war, this town was 50%-60% Jewish. To put it simply, before the war, few towns were entirely Polish—in central and eastern Poland, they were usually about 50-60% Jewish. Many of the larger pre-war Polish cities were transcultural: Warsaw, Krakow, Łódź, Vilnius (now the capital of Lithuania), and Lviv (now in Ukraine). These cities were maybe 30% Jewish. Some smaller shtetls were up to 90% Jewish, but most towns were, with variations, around 60% Jewish, 20% Polish, 10% Russian/German, and 5% Ukrainian, among others. This is a part of our history that we don’t talk about in Poland.
I feel there is still dissociation working inside me regarding my German heritage. I haven’t fully integrated those parts yet. We, as Poles, have trouble learning German. It’s the first foreign language we study at school, yet almost no one can speak it. I feel that within myself too.
I see that Germans have made amazing progress in their relationship with Jews. And perhaps it is difficult for them to always remember that they also killed six million Poles (including three million Polish Jews and three million ethnic Poles). I’m also not sure if all Jews fully understand our Polish emotional heritage related to these events. It is so complex. Historically, we have been in all positions: observer, victim, and sometimes even perpetrator. Most of the German death camps were located in Poland. It is still so painful to read about “Polish death camps” in American newspapers. I’m grateful that more and more attention is being paid to correcting these language mistakes. This shows that the healing process between Poles and Germans is still ongoing. The enduring pain and grief often fuel demands from Poles to Germans, and we still struggle to reconcile our narratives. We often find it difficult to show mutual respect. There are still so many post-traumatic dissociations that prevent us from seeing each other’s humanity. It’s good that there are attempts at dialogue. There are some groups and exchanges between Poland and Germany, but we still have a lot to do in this area. On both sides, we meet with deep pain. I’m sure we are doing our best.
I never discussed with my family what it means to be German in Poland, given my roots. Both of my parents’ hometowns were destroyed by the Germans during WWII. In my family, it’s not just transgenerational trauma; it’s also trauma within the system of bonds, and that’s much more painful when it’s brother against brother, family against family.
In searching for paths to our inner truth and humanity, it’s good to remember how small Europe is compared to the States. From my city, Leszno, within 1,000 km, you can travel through 23 countries. It’s 250 km to Berlin, 250 km to Prague, 600 km to Vienna, and 350 km to Warsaw. There are moments when we differ, but there are also so many stories that are shared among us. And maybe we are all much closer to each other than we think on a daily basis.
7,382 Miles Away
I can’t hear the sirens’ wails from here,
the shriek and thump of missiles.
Only whispers like hundreds of
paper lanterns from wind tousled leaves
that know only air and sun, rain and birds.
In the old cemetery, gusts rattle chimes
into song, as if to say someone is next.
We can’t stop the global air masses
or someone’s time of death.
Sh’ma, listen, the chimes intone,
there is an iron dome over your heart.
The one that shoots down fumbling
attempts at connection that you
confuse as an affront, a lobbed spear
from over there.
Those repeated stories and whistling
reverberations of childhood diss-onances
must come down first before missile
defenses will ever be dismantled.
Before even Shalom. Salaam.
Above the headstones, below the
waning azure sky, a yellow stained-glass
star tied to a limb shimmies and shimmers
into a glinting sunburst, like dawn.
Like continuance. Like hope. Like promise.
Sally Churgel
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Unborn and Undying by Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee
“Both emptiness and form are saturated with love. And our love for each other and for the Earth is the most natural expression of this one quality.”
You can listen to or read this interview in Emergence Magazine at this link.
Practical Reverence
An Interview with Robin Wall Kimmerer
A conversation with Emmanuel Vaughan-Lee of Emergence Magazine that’s perfect for this season of hope amid the seeming darkness of the current times.
“How can we return to an ethic of care and reciprocity in the way we live? In this conversation, Potawatomi botanist Robin Wall Kimmerer celebrates the serviceberry—both as a plant of joyous generosity, and as a living model for a gift economy that recognizes the sacred nature of the Earth.”
You can listen to or read this conversation in Emergence Magazine at this link.
Give the gift of poetry to someone you love
All five of my books are easily available on my site, raphaelblock.com/books, and through any bookstore. Those of you who live in the US can receive a personally signed copy.
With love,
Raphael
MIDDLE EAST PEACE
Here is an extract from a November message by John Lyndon, Executive Director of the Alliance for Middle East Peace (allmep.) Allmep is an umbrella organization of over 160 Israeli and Palestinian groups.
- We recently completed the first phase of an AI-assisted research project, analyzing local perspectives, opinions, and political visions for the future.
- We are implementing a new program focused on trauma-healing and psychosocial support for the field. Last spring, ALLMEP conducted a field-wide needs assessment, where the vast majority of peacebuilders and activists in our community named trauma-healing and mental health care as top priorities for their beneficiary populations.
- We are coordinating Affinity Group Meetings, bringing together organizations from our network working on similar issue areas like peace and technology, environment, healthcare, identity, education, and more to connect around their work, collaborate on programming, and share knowledge with one another.
- ALLMEP is working hard to launch a new program focused on women’s leadership and empowerment in conflict resolution and peace negotiations. Women’s Leadership Network is focused on platforming and empowering Palestinian and Israeli women peacebuilders across generations. The program will focus on political advocacy and best practices derived from other successful peace processes.
Our community of peacebuilders works every day to realize a different kind of reality, rooted in equality, security, and peace for both peoples. ALLMEP is entering the second year of this horrific war with a strong and focused team, ready to tackle the challenges that lay ahead, and our community of supporters has rallied behind our work…
Receive the Earth-Love Newsletter, event invitations, and always a poem.