From Bystander to Witness
- 6 days ago
- 5 min read
Written by Lynn Thorsell, Leadership and Team Coach
A student of Buddhism with a history of outdoor athleticism, Lynn Thorsell brings an adventurous spirit and multi-faceted perspective to organizational life and leadership development. Since 2019, she's coached leaders and teams on six continents, enriching her appreciation of human diversity and ingenuity.
I feel lost, and I don’t know what to do. Physically, I know exactly where I am: in the kitchen with Aster, Jo, and Laurel (not their real names). I’m making tortillas for dinner during this camping weekend with three dear friends from grad school, and Aster just turned up the heat of the conversation. Physically, I know where I am, but relationally, I suddenly feel disoriented.
The drama triangle
It was Jo who first introduced me to Dr. Stephen Karpman’s Drama Triangle fifteen years ago. What an eye-opener that was! I still remember how clearly it illuminated the pattern in which my then-husband, his teenage son, and I were stuck, cycling through Victim, Persecutor, and Rescuer as we all tried to navigate particularly difficult changes in ourselves and our relationships. Our marriage didn’t last, but what did endure was my insight into my tendency to identify with the role of Rescuer and how ultimately harmful that was for me and others. I realized that over-identifying with that role enabled me to justify myself as a "good" person, see others as either lacking, victims, or malicious, persecutors, and treat people with condescension. Looking in the mirror of the Drama Triangle was a wake-up call.
No place to stand
Now, fifteen years later, I’m standing on the edge of another difficult conversation, but this time it’s one that’s being handled much more skillfully. I see Aster challenging Jo on an issue, and Jo having a strong emotional reaction. We can all feel the heat. Jo is obviously grappling with impulses to fight, flee, or freeze, yet manages to stay present and engaged, reclaiming her creativity time after time. At key moments, Laurel speaks, the coach on the sideline.
Me? Internally, I find myself flailing. I momentarily feel engulfed by the urge to defend Jo against Aster, as if they were Victim and Villain, but Jo doesn’t need defending, and Aster is coming from a place of love. There’s no need for me to coach, either, as Laurel capably holds that role. Once or twice, an impotent Rescuer comment, some weak justification or defence of Jo, bursts out of my mouth, but falls flat and listless.
This is how I find myself feeling so lost, unable to find a place in the dynamic playing out before me, my weak attempts to devolve the conversation back into the Drama Triangle unmet, distractedly pressing and cooking tortillas for our meal.
Bystander hangover
As the conversation cooks, the issue Aster initially raised puffs with hot air like a more perfect version of the tortillas I am making and then deflates gently into a tender insight, something truer and deeper for Jo, and much more nourishing than the sticky, raw dough ball with which the conversation started. There are tears and hugs that include me, but the conflict inside me is still broiling, and I feel oddly distant and detached.
The next morning feels even worse. I don’t seem able to keep my reactivity from the night before from seeping out. As we sit around a morning campfire having tea and coffee, my comments come out sharp or flat, out of sync with the rhythm of the conversation. Laurel shares an insightful and personal reflection on yesterday evening’s interaction. Instead of simply honouring that insight or following her deeper, what comes out of my mouth is theoretical, abstract, superficial. I feel, in turn, like a pouty child or a distant critic, disappointed in my own behaviour, yet caught in it like a net.
Finding my way
Days later, the experience still weighing on me, I turn to Donna Zajonc’s book Who Do You Want to Be on the Way to What You Want? to try to sort this out. Donna co-founded the Center for the Empowerment Dynamic with the late David Emerald Womeldorff, and I’m intrigued by her character Sophia’s wise insight:
“My job is to weaken the grip the [Dreaded Drama Triangle] has on me and strengthen my inner observer,” she thought. “Maybe that’s the formula that leads me out of the DDT? Observing inwardly how I’m relating to myself?”
“What is the inner observer?” I wonder. During my friends’ interaction, I felt incidental, unnecessary, and ineffective, like a bystander who simply happens to be present, someone who might want to rush in and rescue, or who might be silently critical and derisive, or who might even be wounded or traumatized by what they observe. That type of observer seems well enmeshed in the Drama Triangle, a very different observer from Sophia’s. Continuing to observe myself stew in that experience only seemed to worsen it, reinforcing my self-judgment. That didn’t sound at all like what Sophia meant.
Pondering this, I ask, “What would be the opposite of Bystander?” The answer that comes is, “Witness.”
Silent presence
Could this be Sophia’s inner observer? Someone grounded in her own wellbeing, who thoughtfully observes interactions, who is strong enough to hold boundaries when needed, and compassionate enough to be available for connection, who is able to bear witness to what occurred. Unlike the helpless or harmful Bystander, deeply entrenched in the Drama Triangle, a Witness makes choices, has agency, and plays an important role, albeit a silent one.
As the pieces click into place, I no longer feel lost when I remember my friends’ interaction. I see that there was a place for me. I only needed to find it.
Re-orientation
Simply by observing an event, we change what happens. Physics has demonstrated this at the quantum level. What I see now is that my quality of being when I make that observation also influences the outcome, for others and myself. Whether we say a word, our quality of presence speaks volumes.
Weeks later, I’m on a video call with a team of colleagues when two of them get into a heated debate. As their energy rises, I notice my body tense and my throat tighten. I see value in the questions and points they each make and feel torn and pressured, as if I have to take one person’s side.
Then I take a deep breath. There’s nothing to fix or fight here. Within a container of mutual respect, we can just let this play out. Even silent and on the sideline, I can choose to Witness.
Read more from Lynn Thorsell
Lynn Thorsell, Leadership and Team Coach
Lynn Thorsell is a team and leadership coach whose practice is informed by outdoor athletics. Buddhist philosophy, and her time working in Malawi. A student of human diversity and resourcefulness, she is continually heartened by the many leaders and teams working to increase our collective wellbeing, and honoured to support them.
