This morning I walked out of my door into freezing cold. I almost walked into him or her. It was a little bird, on the sidewalk in front of our apartment. He was just sitting, and I almost walked into him. There’s no way something wasn’t wrong, because he didn’t fly away. I thought something was wrong and he was probably dying. I looked at him as I walked away, and as I drove away. I couldn’t think of anything to do. It is the circle of life that sometimes birds die, but I also felt like I should do something. I wanted to save the bird. I couldn’t bring it inside, because - well, her name is Rory. Bring the bird to the vet? I don’t think so. So I drove away.
And I cried. I cried. I thought- I don’t know what to do. I want to save you, or be there with you, but I don’t know what to do.
When I told co-workers I was leaving, I tried not to show how happy I was. I was so ready to be done. So tired. So burnt out. So, so, so tired.
Then I started telling my kids. One after one- I have something I need to tell you.
One after one, the next question was always the same.
Why?
It’s one thing to explain it to coworkers and foster parents. They may be sad, but they can understand. They understand burnt out. They get emotionally drained. They tell me you need to do what you need to do. I would nod my head and agree. It was time. I told myself you need to go before one of your kids or families pays the price for you being burnt out. My foster parents had a range of reactions- tears, lots and lots of questions, disbelief at my next move (insurance?!?!?), and understanding, compassion, and support.
It’s one thing to tell them.
It’s a whole other thing to answer why from my kids.
How do you tell them? How do you explain to a six year old that you can’t walk around carrying his pain anymore? The pain that he deals with personally every day- how do you explain that?
How do you tell a fourteen year old you can’t fight for him anymore? That you’re running out of energy and can’t fight his battles for him? How do you explain that you are scared that you won’t be able to fight the way you have for the last two years and that he will end up paying the price for that?
How do you explain to a thirteen year old that you are leaving, again, and that she’s going to have to have a new worker, again. How do you respond when she tells you how much she hates changing workers, and tells you that she tells you everything, and won’t have anyone else to do that with?
How do you help an eleven year old understand that you can’t finish the work you’ve started with her, because it’s time for you to go? What do you say when she asks why? I just don’t know.
I don’t know what to tell them. I don’t know how to explain that I can’t carry their pain and fight their battles anymore. I don’t know how to reconcile the fact that I can’t be there for them, yet I ask them to live with their histories and their pain every day of their lives. I don’t know how to explain the personal toll that my attachment to them, my passion for helping them, changing their lives, has had. I don’t know how to help them understand that the toll has become too great, at least for a time.
I’ve always wanted to be a social worker. There’s never been anything else for me, besides mom. I knew I wouldn’t fit anywhere else. I just knew. There’s always been a passion inside me to fight for those who are helpless. The bird, the children. I’ve always wanted to rescue them. As I became a little more experienced, a little less naive, I realized that I couldn’t rescue them. But I could show them someone who cared, I could be someone who was willing to fight for them, I could advocate for them. If I changed their lives in some small way, if I saved one of them in one way, it would be worth it.
I feel like I’m not only leaving a job, but that I’m cutting off a limb. I feel like I’m walking away from a part of me that has always been there. People joke that I am going to the “dark side” and I don’t know what to say. I feel like I’m walking away from such a huge part of who I am, in order to save the rest of who I am. This is something I still don’t completely understand. I know on several levels that it’s time to go, that I personally need a break and a change. I know that I need to focus on other parts of my life right now, and that while I am still pouring my heart and soul into these kids I cannot focus on the things that I need to elsewhere. I know, but I don’t understand.
I know. It’s a lot of emotion for someone changing jobs. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I’m overestimating the impact that me leaving is going to have. But I see the look in their eyes as they asked why. I hear the frustration they feel at finally finding someone they trust, only to lose yet another social worker. I feel the pain of having to say goodbye to someone yet again.
I feel guilty for causing any of them any kind of pain. It’s one thing to be the bearer of bad news, it’s another to be the cause. I know, I know I need to do what I need to do.
I want to save you, but I don’t know how anymore and I’ve run out of energy trying.
Why, indeed?
3 comments
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December 6, 2007 at 10:52 pm
shannon
As your sister, I understand but yet I dont….I just know you will be back at some point, because its a huge part of who you are….we both try and save those who cant be saved. remember i always love you even if you have crossed…
December 7, 2007 at 12:10 am
cecily
Ah, but each child carries the pain of themselves (and their family to a degree). One story. You’ve been carrying multiple stories. What a heavy load.
I hope you find something symbolic or significant that helps you put to death the guilt you feel, because I hear the voice of a compassionate, empathic, caring person who has become over burdened, not someone running away for the sake of it.
(Man I hate know it all commentors… sorry if it comes across that way. I’m trying to be empathic over the internet! :-))
December 8, 2007 at 11:26 am
Worker
I hope this doesn’t come off as rude, but, have you ever considered getting help instead of leaving you job, since you clearly love it so much and it hurts you to leave?
I am in the same field as you, as are the majority of my friends (and all my co-workers, LOL). All of us have varying abilities to cope with the stresses and hurts of doing this work. Some of us breeze through it, some of us leave (90% to become teachers for some reason). I have also known several workers (myself included) who have almost left, and instead turned to therapy and self-help to learn how to balance doing this work and being a functional person away from the job.
In the past, there were times that I was so overwhelmed and unable to cope. There were times I was very very close to leaving. I used to pull over on the way to work every day and just cry. I was so unhappy at times that I was unable to function at work. I stopped caring about what I ate and stopped exercising, thinking “Life is so hard, and there are so many bigger things to deal with than fitting in healthy eating and exercise”, and I got up to 200lbs. AllI could do was do my job, and be a mom. There was no rom in my life for anything else (or so I thougt, eventually I made room). I had stress headaches all the time, and was always sick and tired. If I could have, I would have left my work too. I loved my work, but the stress and pain of it was making it too hard for me to be a healthy, functional person, wife and mother.
But since I had a child, leaving was not an option for me, I had a family to support and made more money (and better benifits) than my husband. I had a BSW and no other professinal options. That just made me more depressed.
Eventually, I realized that I HAD to find a way to keep doing my job, and doing it well (the kids deseve no less) without remaining the fat, miserable, depressed, unmotivated to do anything but bitch and whine about it person I had become. Being a martyr and telling myself it was all worth it because the kids had suffered so much trauma and only the kids mattered no longer worked. I had to re-learn that I matter too and I am not doing anyone any favours by losing myself and doing nothing but being there for my kids (work) and my own child.
So I got some counseling and learned some coping techniques and relaxation techniques I could do. I got some relaxating music to listen to in my car between visits. I cut out the caffience because being on a constant caffiene high made me edgy, and the lows made me miserable and headachy. had accupuncture and massage therapy to help with the stress headaches. I started to exercise and eat healthily and dropped 40lbs. I started blogging (NOT about work or parenting, about the other things in my life, which forced me to find some). I went on anti-depressants for a short time. Eventually I got to a point where I was done with all these therapies, and came out of them a healthy person again. One who was committed to doing well for her work and her family, and also committed to doing well for herself. A big help for me was that I started belly-dancing lessons and have this one thing a week that I know well always be a joy and just for me and my mind/body/spirit no matter what else I do.
I am so glad I stayed at what I loved and learned how to live, happily for the most part, and do this work that I love and I know I belong in.
It is still a challenge (finding work life balence always is, and with one’s own kids, it is even harder) and I am not saying I never go to bed crying about one of my kids or wake up having a panic attack…but it is much much better than it was and I now believe that I can possibly be one of those people that does this job for decades instead of years.
I don’t know you very well, but I kinda feel like you are where I was a few years ago, feeling like you have gotten into a situation where work is taking over your life and making you miserable and unable to live the way you want to (even though you love your work), and the overwhelmingness of it has gotten to a point where you are not able to do anything but feel hopeless about it, or leave. Maybe I am wrong, but if you are there, and you do love the work and truly want to stay, I just want you to know that I’ve been there, and as hard as it feels, it IS POSSIBLE to do something aobut it. It is possible to push aside the hopelessness of it and get your groove back. It is hard, but it can be done. I hope you give it some thought.