My letter for Pastoral Care - March 2021

“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” Aesop.

There comes a point when formal processes fail so completely that the only thing left is to write as a human being.

Not as a complainant.

Not as a case number.

Not as an “issue to be managed.”

As a person.

In March 2021, I wrote a letter to a friend and colleague whose work centred on values, ethics, and care. This is a part of the institution associated with dignity, mission, and responsibility to those experiencing vulnerability.

I wrote because I was no longer safe — and because silence and isolation had become unbearable.

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Why I Wrote the Letter

By that point, formal channels had become procedural and difficult to navigate. Policies “existed”, but they were not translating into practical protection for me. Processes were being “followed”, while my sense of safety continued to decline.

I wrote because I believed — and still believe — that institutions are ultimately made of people.

And that someone whose work is grounded in care, ethics, and mission would want to understand the human impact of what was occurring.

—-

The Letter Was Answered

The letter was acknowledged.

It was met with humanity.

For a brief period, I experienced something close to the pastoral care I had been seeking. I felt heard. I felt taken seriously. There was a sense — careful and tentative — that the seriousness of my situation was understood.

That moment mattered deeply.

It demonstrated that compassion was possible, and that a human response could exist alongside formal “processes”.

—-

When Contact Was Discontinued

That connection did not continue.

Following further internal direction, contact ceased and my colleagues were wrongfully advised that matters should be left to established processes. But established and lawful “processes” were never followed.

From my perspective, the pastoral support that had briefly been available was no longer accessible.

What followed felt like an absence rather than a resolution.

A human response was replaced by alleged “procedure”.

Personal concern gave way to “formal distance”.

*Care was deferred to alleged “process”.

—-

What This Revealed to Me

This experience left a lasting impression.

It showed how easily individual compassion can be constrained once matters are reframed as procedural. It highlighted how care, even when initially offered, may be withdrawn when it is perceived to sit outside defined “roles” or “processes”.

And it revealed how “no contact,” when applied in circumstances involving distress, can feel profoundly isolating — regardless of intent.

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Why I Am Writing About This Now

I am writing about this letter because it marked a turning point for me.

Not because care was absent, but because it was briefly present and then no longer available.

That distinction matters.

It shows that compassion was possible.

That concern existed.

And that ultimately, those controlling “process” took precedence. The perpetrators of harm took over once more. 

Senior leaders must answer: 

How does this align to the Identity and Mission?

—-

This Is About More Than One Letter

It is about how systems can limit the ability of people to respond humanely, even when they want to.

About how procedural boundaries can override ethical instincts.

And about how people experiencing harm can be left to carry it alone after coming close to care.

I wrote that letter because I believed in the values that were spoken about.

I am writing this now because care should not depend on timing, permission, or procedural comfort — especially when someone is already struggling.

It is not the Identity and Mission.

—-

* NOTE: It is also not process. It is ostracism. 

See http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2024/10/ostracism-as-adverse-action-2019.html. 

In reading the prior post, please be mindful of my premise - http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/p/the-premise-of-this-blog.html