The Room Before Volunteer Training Begins
Picture a day of volunteer training at Free Arts. The room fills with people drawn to this work for reasons they may or may not name. Many carry their own histories of difficulty. Some are close to the surface, and some are buried deep. I have seen two patterns emerge almost every time.
Some volunteers arrive ready to disclose. The room feels safe. The mission resonates. The impulse to share is genuine. Others arrive with heightened sensitivity to disclosure because their own history makes them more vulnerable to being flooded by others’ stories. Both responses make sense. Both require care.
This is why I share a specific content warning before we go deeper. It sounds something like this:
We want to provide a content warning about our topics today. Our mission addresses abuse and neglect of children, teenagers, and families. Today we will discuss the impacts of that trauma so that we can orient staff and volunteers on how to create the supportive space that we are known for. We will discuss the effects of trauma but not the traumas themselves. We will not be discussing incidents or stories of trauma but general reactions that people have and our approach to supporting them.
We also know that many of you carry personal stories that relate to these experiences. We have a shared agreement to “take the lesson and leave the story”. This means we want to hear the story of resilience without the trauma details—because you may be at a place to carry it, but your audience will likely not be at the same place. That is true for the participants we serve and many of the staff and volunteers working alongside you. We encourage anyone feeling overwhelmed to take care of themselves, take a break, or speak to one of us if you need support.
We also know that many of you carry personal stories that relate to these experiences. We have a shared agreement to “take the lesson and leave the story”. This means we want to hear the story of resilience without the trauma details—because you may be at a place to carry it, but your audience will likely not be at the same place. That is true for the participants we serve and many of the staff and volunteers working alongside you. We encourage anyone feeling overwhelmed to take care of themselves, take a break, or speak to one of us if you need support.
That last line: “you may be at a place to carry it, but your audience will likely not be at the same place” is the heart of this agreement.
What the Agreement Says
“Take the lesson, leave the story” is one of our eleven shared agreements at Free Arts Arizona. It creates safety in spaces where trauma is present, but processing trauma isn’t the purpose. It was first shared by a consultant, Miller, from thankyoumiller.com
The agreement honors that everyone in the room carries something. This includes staff, volunteers, and the young people we serve. It says: you can speak from experience without requiring others to hold the full weight of what happened to you. It’s a boundary that protects the group while still allowing authenticity.
In practice, it’s the difference between saying “I know what it’s like to feel unseen” versus offering a detailed account of every time you were unseen and by whom. Both are true. Only one serves a room full of people at different places on their journey to well-being.
What the Agreement Doesn’t Say
Let me be clear about what this agreement is not.
It’s not “your story doesn’t matter.” It’s not “get over it” or “move on.” It’s not asking you to pretend the hard thing didn’t shape you. The story is yours. It happened. It’s real. Pretending otherwise compounds the suffering.
The agreement isn’t about erasing. It’s about context and building a safe interpersonal container. There are spaces for your full story: therapy, trusted relationships, support groups, and your own art. Volunteer training isn’t that space. Neither is a program location with an audience.
The agreement trusts you to hold your story. As a community, we honor this work as sacred. With safety in mind, our ask is for you to choose when and where to set your stories down in front of others.
The Story, the Stories, and the Lessons
Here’s where I want to go deeper than the agreement itself.
Many volunteers come to Free Arts precisely because of their related experience. The story that brought them here is real and valid. It’s often the source of their compassion, their motivation, and their staying power. I honor that. We all do.
But one risk is fusing with a single story: “I am what happened to me.” Another risk is extracting a single lesson and closing the book: “I learned X, I’m past it.” I have found there is a great opportunity beyond these two responses.
The opportunity is more expansive. Something I have learned from therapeutic practice outside of Free arts is people have many stories, and each story can yield multiple lessons. A story of being unfairly treated might also be a story of endurance, of developing a justice orientation, of becoming someone who notices what others miss.
The move is both/and: the story is held, not denied. The lessons that are formed stand alongside it, now portable, and lighter to carry. This is the integration of hurtful pasts with a process that differentiates yourself from the incidents or patterns in your life. You are more than a single narrative. Among the multitude of stories of your life is a hidden wholeness that can be discovered.
Over time, I’ve learned to internally re-tell my multiple stories and draw what is needed in the present moment to show up in my most authentic way. The lessons become a toolkit and not a fixed identity; they are resources available for service, for connection, for showing up. A bonus is that we become more flexible and compassionate about our own experience and view of self. Resilience is learning to hold knowledge without being overwhelmed by the original experience.
This is empathy as toolkit, not empathy as flooding.
An Invitation to Try It
You don’t have to start with the story that shaped everything. In fact, I’d encourage you not to.
Almost any difficulty, e.g. a frustrating day, a misunderstanding, or a small loss can reveal what you value and what you’re committed to doing about it. Values and committed action are available in everyday friction, not just formative trauma.
So, start small. Notice: “That bothered me because I value ______” and “I responded by ______.” Build the muscle with smaller stories. Learn your own patterns—what you reach for, what you protect, what you move toward. Those patterns are a protective form of love for you and others.
Then when you hold a bigger story, you’re not doing it for the first time. You’ve practiced finding the lesson without being swallowed by the telling.
Try the both/and out loud or on paper: “This happened to me AND I became someone who ______.” Feel the difference in weight.
The next time you feel the pull to share your story in a space that can’t hold it, ask: what lesson does this moment need? What can I offer without setting down the full weight? This isn’t about hiding. It’s about caring, both for your own story, and of the room you’re in.
Agreements That Evolve
These shared agreements—including “take the lesson, leave the story”—evolved through work with our whole staff over time. They weren’t handed down in the form they have now. This one was inspired by Miller at thankyoumiller.com. Over time, they were shaped collectively, tested in practice, and refined by the people who use them.
That process reflects the same both/and we’ve been exploring: we hold them seriously, and we hold them lightly enough to let them grow. In the future, we will let them evolve again. The agreements serve us; we don’t serve the agreements.
If you’re part of the Free Arts universe which includes staff, volunteers, donors, and partners, then you’re part of that ongoing shaping. If you’re reading from outside our organization, perhaps there’s something here you can adapt for your own spaces, your own practice, or your own toolkit.
This is the first in a series exploring all eleven of our shared agreements. Some will be written by me. Others will come from guest voices across the Free Arts community—because if the agreements are shared, the reflection on them should be too.
Matt Sandoval, LMSW, M.Ed.
CEO of Free Arts
