Anger

I know I haven't posted in a while. I'd think of something that I'd want to write about but when I had the chance to do so either the thought escaped me or I had no motivation to write about anything. In this case, I feel I have to write something; otherwise, it will continue to tear me up inside. Those of you who know me know that I'm a sensitive person, almost to a fault. So when something occurs that would seriously disturb someone else, I'm almost besides myself.

I'm talking about the murders on Imperial Ave. I know it's world news but in case you don't know about them here's a very brief synopsis: after serving a search warrant on charges of aggravated rape and attempted murder (I'm not sure if those are the correct charges and I really don't want to look them up) to a man, Anthony Sowell, in Cleveland, Ohio, it was discovered that there were dead bodies located throughout the house and in the backyard - 11 as of this writing. All of the bodies recovered so far have been African-American women. Most of them had been strangled. This is a horrific crime on all levels but when I would see something like this in the past I would feel absolutely horrible but at the same time feel detached because I know it didn't involve anyone I knew...until now.

I was watching the news one morning as I was getting ready for work and as the reporter was discussing the murders I saw the picture and name of someone I knew. I didn't want to believe it at first so I watched when the news was rebriefed at the bottom of the hour. Sadly, it was true and the horrible reality slowly began to sink in: one of the women recovered was a client.

I remember seeing her last sitting in my office saying "I'm not feeling it today." Her usual sunny self was replaced by a woman who was desperately trying to fight her demons...and she was losing. I did everything I could to help her with what she needed. Before she left, she smiled, thanked me, gave me a big hug and told me she would call when she got to her destination to let me know she had made it there okay. To be honest, I was shocked. No client until then was diligent enough to say she would call me. She kept her word as she called later that day to let me know she had made it to her sponsor and she was safe. I greatly appreciated the consideration she gave me in notifying me. She said she would be back that night. I was not sure if she returned but that was the last time I saw or heard from her.

You have to understand something. In my job, people are transient. They come and go as often as the breeze. I hate to say this, but sometimes when someone is gone she doesn't want to be found. Typically she would have relapsed and felt ashamed about what she had done. We've had women who would, seemingly, disappear off of the face of the world, only to return months, or even years later. My client had fit into that category. She had been there a few years before I started working there and had returned for a while, then disappeared, then reappeared. She had been in our program in the past and, unfortunately, per our grant, she was not eligible to re-engage with our program; however, my coworker and I never turned anyone away when she needed help and she and I treated her just as if she was our client.

What I remember about her is her smile and her beauty. She was a truly beautiful woman both inside and out. Her energy was infectious and when she was happy, everyone knew it. She was very friendly and would stop by and say "hi' even if she didn't need anything. One day she came bounding into my office to tell me she had pictures with her youngest child and she wanted me to have one. I was honored that she gave me a picture. It made me feel like I was an important part of her life. And just like that, she's gone.

We had a meeting yesterday to discuss how we all felt about her death. There were sad points, especially when someone said that she felt bad because she died alone, then someone countered that and said that she hadn't died alone but that God was with her. It should have been comforting to me, especially since I believe in God, but it wasn't. It made me cry even more. Then there was laughing when we all had stories to share about how she touched our lives. Some talked about how she would walk around in an "old lady" duster even though she was young.

I want to say all of this because I want you to know that she is not just 1 of 11 bodies recovered, but she was a person, a beautiful person - full of hopes and dreams for both her and her children. However, it also makes me very upset to think that, as one co-worker put it, "she never got a fair shake...whenever she was able to take one step forward she was pushed two steps back." She struggled with her addiction. She was involved in a very abusive relationship. She had lost custody of her children. She was homeless. Despite all of her disadvantages, though, she was a fighter. I honestly cannot say I would have the same spirit she had if I was in her position.

I have to also admit that when I found out my client was murdered I felt a lot of guilt. The last time I saw her was about the time she was last seen. In my strange thinking I felt I was one of the last people to see her alive and therefore I could have saved her. This is completely irrational and in reviewing my actions there was nothing I could have done. If faced with the same situation, I would have done the exact same thing. It has made me think differently about the way I work with clients, though. I will never put myself in a situation that is both dangerous to my client and/or me. I will never again pick up a client from a crack house and drive her to 2 other crack houses so she could obtain her belongings. Unless I know the people at the destination where my client would like to be dropped off, I will not transport her. I will never transport clients to the house of a cousin or friend, only to be told at the last minute, "oh just drop me off here and I'll walk the rest of the way."

My heart cries for every single woman found in that house, as well as for those who are still missing. I do not blame the police for this because there's only so much that they can do. Like any profession, there are people who really care about what they do and those that only view it as a paycheck. I know one woman's family felt that the police did not do enough to find her. One of my co-workers said that a police officer came every month for a year looking for her. There are police officers constantly coming to our workplace asking if missing women are there.

I gave the job to Paul to stop me from watching anything else about these murders. It's too much. As I think about my client and get upset sometimes I can almost hear a voice telling me, "you need to stop this. I'm happy now. I'm at peace." I sincerely hope she's at peace. I sincerely hope they are all finally at peace.

Doubt

It seems ever since I left graduate school I have been filled with doubt: I don't know if I will be a good social worker. I don't know if I will make a difference. I don't think I'll do a good job. I realize when I think these things I'm a hypocrite. At work we are required to use strength-based approaches towards our clients. Some people are so quick to look at their faults and find it difficult to find and build upon their strengths. This is especially true among the population with whom I work. I help my clients find that tiny spark of positivity within themselves and yet I am so quick to look at everything that's wrong with me. 

Sometimes I feel that I am a bad social worker and co-worker. Sometimes I feel I do not do enough. My one co-worker is so good at what she does and because she is so outgoing everyone loves her. I help my clients but I need to be more engaging with the rest of the residents. I get frustrated when I cannot contact someone, e.g. making a doctor's appointment for a client. Why do people in the psychiatric department at Metro Health never answer their phone? Why won't anyone at Social Security return my phone calls? 

I know, I am just complaining. I get upset when things don't go my way and don't really make the effort, in my opinion, to change things. I need to take things in stride. I should not become frightened when a resident tries to intimidate me. I need to rationalize that this is a defense mechanism for her. I try to be strong but I'm still a vulnerable person. I need to be more strict with my boundaries and know when someone is trying to manipulate me. It's not therapeutic to enable clients for fear if I don't something bad will happen to them. For example, a client of mine who was in a residential treatment facility for drugs decided to leave after being there only a week and a half. She asked me to come get her. I told her "no." She was upset and begging me to pick her up. I had things to do that day and couldn't take the time to get her. I felt picking her up would mean it was okay for her to do whatever she wanted without having to deal with the consequences. She has the right to leave treatment but I have the right as a case manager not to get her, I think. She ends up finding her way home and then goes out the next day to get high and breaks her leg. I actually felt bad! I thought if I had picked her up things would have been different; however, I realize that I have no control what my clients do nor can I control them.  

I know all professionals have moments of doubt when they start a career and I should not be an exception. It's still painful when it happens though. I need to learn to care for myself and not be so wrapped up in my clients' doings. I should not press what I want for them but rather be empathic and there for them no matter what they choose. To quote William Ernest Henley, "I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul." 

I hope it gets better.

My Return to the Blogosphere

Yes! I have returned. It took me a long time to discern whether writing regularly to a blog would be beneficial or even feasible. However, since I've told many people that I already use journaling as a means to decompress and care for myself, I figured it's time to either put up or shut up. I had written a blog in the past and it was quite interesting to see how much I had evolved as a person from my very first entry in June of 2001 through my last one in July of 2007. Various things prevented me from writing again, e.g. returning to school, not having enough time, and, quite honestly, apathy. I felt I had nothing interesting about which to write. After all, who wants to read about what I had, or did not have, for breakfast? Unless you're a scientist researching cereal trends or are incredibly voyeusteric, no one would care.

So why am I writing again? I need an outlet to voice my frustrations and share my thoughts. I am a social worker who works for a non-profit AODA/MH treatment agency. I work with an extremely challenging population and many times I take my work home with me. I'm sure my husband and sister are tired of seeing me mope or listen to me complain. I will try and not make this a bitch blog, but rather, share my journey in which I am evolving in my profession and as a person. I would enjoy feedback or commiseration, if that's even a word. I hope, above all, that writing this blog will be extremely therapeutic for me. If I am able to help myself then I will be a better clinician to my clients - at least I hope so.