A trauma-informed therapist working with first responders, veterans, and their families, Cait co-founded The Holding Frames, a nonprofit organization that supports people navigating grief and trauma through art and community. The annual Spirit of 9/12 event embodies the Holding Frames’ vision: A world where every community impacted by disaster has access to healing—and the power to offer it to someone else.
In this excerpt, a summer camp gives a ‘9/11 kid’ permission to ‘just be a kid,’ and a field trip, years later, teaches her what to do with that gift. Hear the full conversation on The Gifts of Trauma Podcast.
CAIT: There was something incredible about his voice, how calm and collected he was… And there was that reassurance of, “We’re going to get through this.”
Caitlin Leavey was describing the radio tapes from the morning of 9/11, as her father, FDNY Lieutenant Joseph Leavey, led his men toward the impact zone of the South Tower of the World Trade Center.
CAIT: The 10-year-old who lost her dad was very confused. I remember being so curious. How ARE people getting through this? There’s something about the uniqueness of being 10, being in that developmental stage, being curious, and the inner child in me feeling like I’m lost. I want some comfort, I want to be nurtured, and I want to understand, but also, this is my reality, and I need to buckle up. I was growing up really fast and also trying to hold on to those pieces.
Looking back as a therapist, 9/11 was a pivotal moment in the field of mental health. It was a very dark day, but there was something beautiful about it that is so poignant in my memory: the way that we showed up for one another. As we would say at America’s Camp, “‘Tis better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.”
America’s Camp was created when three camp directors came together and said, “We want you to be in a space where you’re no longer a ‘9/11 kid.’ You’re just a kid.” After every meal, we would dance in the dance hall. Every single person was dancing, up on a table, or on the floor. Dancing like no one was watching.
It was a small, almost absurd permission—to be silly, to be ordinary, to be nothing more than a kid at summer camp. But for a girl whose identity had been defined by a catastrophic disaster, it was the first glimmer of evidence that another version of herself had survived.
CAIT: I was a camper for five years, and I became a counsellor. My favourite year at America’s Camp was when I was a counsellor. I absolutely loved being able to be with my girls.
I remember a specific moment on a field trip: one little girl taps me on the shoulder and asks, “Do you remember your dad?” I said, “Yeah,” and I started talking about it. And then, it’s another one, and another one… a ripple effect. I had a bunch of my girls around me, and we were all talking about it when I got a tap on the shoulder from one of the head counsellors, and she was like, “You take the time that you need. This is precious.”
“Did I do the right thing?” I remember leaving, bawling and panicking, because I thought I had to do this a certain way. But it’s like, no, you just create space. You show up. You allow this community to just be natural.
Cait later built that lesson into The Holding Frames, a nonprofit she co-founded with Josh Garcia, a survivor of the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando.
CAIT: Our FRAME Method is about presence, proximity, power, and purpose… if you’re present with other communities that are in pain, you’re creating a safe space for expression and grief. Then there’s the proximity piece, being connected to other survivors. The power, that agency—I talked about how you restore agency through creative expression, helping individuals reclaim their narrative and their voice—and then the purpose, how you’re transforming grief into action.
Every September 12, the day after 9/11, people gather in Washington Market Park, just blocks from where the towers once stood, to paint wooden frames and write messages of hope.
CAIT: They are sent to other communities impacted by tragedy: schools, community centres, hospitals, and first responders. Whenever someone receives one, it’s a simple reminder that they are not alone.
One of the boys I’ve known since he was little came up to me on 9/12 and said, “Ms. Cait, can I help?” I looked over, and he was already sitting with three younger kids, helping them make their frames. This is the heart of it. This is the Spirit of 9/12. This is a way I can connect with them. Maybe we don’t have the same tragedy or the same experience, but there’s a similarity, a bond, a connection.
When asked whether there was anything she wishes more clinicians understood before taking on clients like those she serves, she said…
CAIT: You could research how to work with first responders and read all the books. But they just want to be heard. That’s the most important thing. It’s about just listening and being curious. I think there is something about the silence and the pause that is really important in this work with first responders. How do you navigate silence? How do you navigate that pause? I don’t think a lot of first responders have that opportunity, because they’re go, go, go, right? A call happens, they go, they get back, and they’ve got to focus on the next call. Their job requires them to be hypervigilant. But right here in this space, when we work together, they don’t have to have that.
Right now I’m working with a lot of first responder children and veterans. And I run a private practice with my focus specifically around grief and trauma. I also think it’s very important not to put individuals, specifically children, into a box of how they are processing their trauma or their grief and really empower them to find their pathway through. It could look so different to someone who’s gone through the same thing, or it could look super similar. That was really important for me, and I don’t think I would have been able to find that pathway if I didn’t have the communities around me and those resources. I was finding purpose in my community, finding ways of connecting to my story, and recognizing, yes, I can validate my pain. I can also use it as a way to heal, to inspire others, and to help others…
I always had this motto when I was younger: “The world has changed me, and now it’s my turn to change the world.”
The Gifts of Trauma is a weekly podcast that features personal stories of trauma, transformation, healing, and the gifts revealed on the path to authenticity. Listen to the full conversation, and if it resonates, please subscribe, rate, review, and share.
Editor’s Note: This post comprises edited excerpts from The Gifts of Trauma podcast transcript. Selected passages have been carefully woven together to create a cohesive narrative that speaks in the guest’s voice and faithfully represents their perspective. – Rosemary Davies-Janes
