Call me crabby. This morning as my alarm went off and I was faced with another day to rise and shine and get my behind to work I was bitter ten different ways. I often read inspirational stories and op-ed pieces of people who find something they love to do and then go out and do it for the rest of their lives with no qualms about making a living or how to get by. The more I read about those people, the more I hate them.
For the last 20 years I've worked for the same agency and, honestly, there are parts of my job that I sincerely love. I love the place I work. This small, not for profit place is very forward thinking yet very kind to people. We get things done on a shoe string budget by being flexible, creative and willing to get dirty when we have to. We do things that other agencies run from and, mostly, that is very satisfying. But I'm here to tell ya, even the more satisfying job becomes routine and monotonous once in a while. After 20 years, my heart and mind wander to wondering if there isn't something else out there. Of course, I'd be hard pressed to know what that is because, quite frankly, I just don't want to work anymore.
There I've said it! I want to spend my days doing whatever it is I want to do, whenever I want to do it. Of course, that's impossible. This is where my hatred for those people who figure out how to do this comes in. I just read something about a couple who sold everything and just started traveling and they go from country to country on very little money by taking whatever jobs might be available for cash and then they just move on. They've seen the world like this, met a bunch of cool people along the way and are completely content with their lifestyle. The downside? They have no permanent home, no insurance, and aren't even guaranteed a real meal on any given day. Could I really live that way? Probably not. I'm conditioned to worry about those sorts of things so I would never really be happy just "winging" it wherever I went. Yet, I am envious of those who can - jealous of their joie de vive and ability to live each day without these worries.
I'm just really tired of working at all. I want time to paint and write and travel and sleep in and cook great gourmet meals and read all those books that I've been wanting to read. That sounds, to me, like the perfect existence. And, man, I'm ready for it!
But, alas, it is not to be. Not yet anyway. So, in the meantime I have to work and be here on time and show empathy and answer questions and resolve conflicts....blah. I need a nap.
Showing posts with label working. Show all posts
Showing posts with label working. Show all posts
Monday, April 8, 2013
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
All out of f**** to give...
A good friend of mine at work came to me today and said, "I'm just completely out of f**** to give today." I knew exactly how she felt.
I spend my days working in a noble but entirely thankless profession. Last week, I spent an entire day scrounging up over $500 to pay a plumber to fix the toilet and bathtub drain for two of our clients who live on very limited income and who had been without working plumbing for almost two months. I called in some debt, begged a little and, at the end of the day, I got it done. That day I was a hero and thanks were freely flowing.
Yesterday, one of those same clients came to me to complain he had no money to spend at Christmas. Now I work with the poorest of the poor. Once they pay their rent and utilities and get some meager groceries there really isn't anything left to spend. I tried to get some answers for him, see what I could do, but alas, at the end of that day I wasn't able to do anything. He screamed at me. Called me a liar and a thief. All in a day's work. I restrained myself and did not scream back, "HEY! I WAS THE ONE THAT GOT YOUR PLUMBING PAID FOR!!" That would have been unprofessional and, seriously, uncalled for.
Thing is, I get it. These are very poor people who, by virtue of having a mental illness that makes their daily lives difficult, have very little control over anything in their lives. That has to be frustrating to no end. I get it. I really do. But, in all honesty, it wears me down. I have to struggle sometimes to find the joy in the small victories and sometimes they are few and far between.
Some days, it's really hard to listen effectively and have empathy. Some days I want to close the door and shut them out.
At this time of year, I always watch A Christmas Carol. The real old version with Alistair Sims. Scrooge is jaded and lives only for his money. I can't say that I identify with that but he has a line when the charitable men come calling, asking for donations for the poor. He says, "Are there no poor houses? No work farms?" They answer him, "Many would rather die than go there." And Scrooge says, "Then they'd better set on doing it and decrease the surplus population!" Though I have never gotten to the point where I wished anyone dead, I have gotten to the point where I have no more f**** to give. I feel I'm at that point right now.
But, having said all that, I know that this dark f***less place is temporary. I've been here before and, I'm happy to say, the feeling goes away as quickly as it comes. If it ever does start to stick around, I take some time off to regroup, rethink, renew and rejuvenate. I'm not quite at that point yet and, hopefully, tomorrow will bring me one of those small victories and I can snap out of this!
I spend my days working in a noble but entirely thankless profession. Last week, I spent an entire day scrounging up over $500 to pay a plumber to fix the toilet and bathtub drain for two of our clients who live on very limited income and who had been without working plumbing for almost two months. I called in some debt, begged a little and, at the end of the day, I got it done. That day I was a hero and thanks were freely flowing.
Yesterday, one of those same clients came to me to complain he had no money to spend at Christmas. Now I work with the poorest of the poor. Once they pay their rent and utilities and get some meager groceries there really isn't anything left to spend. I tried to get some answers for him, see what I could do, but alas, at the end of that day I wasn't able to do anything. He screamed at me. Called me a liar and a thief. All in a day's work. I restrained myself and did not scream back, "HEY! I WAS THE ONE THAT GOT YOUR PLUMBING PAID FOR!!" That would have been unprofessional and, seriously, uncalled for.
Thing is, I get it. These are very poor people who, by virtue of having a mental illness that makes their daily lives difficult, have very little control over anything in their lives. That has to be frustrating to no end. I get it. I really do. But, in all honesty, it wears me down. I have to struggle sometimes to find the joy in the small victories and sometimes they are few and far between.
Some days, it's really hard to listen effectively and have empathy. Some days I want to close the door and shut them out.
At this time of year, I always watch A Christmas Carol. The real old version with Alistair Sims. Scrooge is jaded and lives only for his money. I can't say that I identify with that but he has a line when the charitable men come calling, asking for donations for the poor. He says, "Are there no poor houses? No work farms?" They answer him, "Many would rather die than go there." And Scrooge says, "Then they'd better set on doing it and decrease the surplus population!" Though I have never gotten to the point where I wished anyone dead, I have gotten to the point where I have no more f**** to give. I feel I'm at that point right now.
But, having said all that, I know that this dark f***less place is temporary. I've been here before and, I'm happy to say, the feeling goes away as quickly as it comes. If it ever does start to stick around, I take some time off to regroup, rethink, renew and rejuvenate. I'm not quite at that point yet and, hopefully, tomorrow will bring me one of those small victories and I can snap out of this!
Saturday, January 23, 2010
A brief pause...and is that a tiny bit of light I see at the end of this tunnel?
Clearly, I haven't written anything in my blog for a while now. I guess I was on a bit of self imposed hiatus. You see, as my last blog entry stated, these days I'm a tad conflicted about my job. I would like to say that it's gotten so much better by now but, truth is, there are aspects of it I hate and probably always will. That said, there has also been some things happening that have started to remind me why I do what I do.
Though the supervisory portion of my job is still undefined I have no idea yet what it is I am expected to do. But I am also case managing a small handful of people which is the first time in a long time I have been directly responsible for those duties. What I'm discovering is just how much I missed that intense client contact. I've really been enjoying working with the people on my case list and, I have to say, it's been a real bright spot in all of this.
The other day I was going through some old papers in my desk and I came across some essays I wrote a long time ago. They were all stories of the personal strengths and triumphs of some of my past clients. I re-read them and started to remember why I love being a social worker. I started to remember how truly determined most people are and how, in spite of being dealt a pretty crappy hand, most people, even those with mental illness, AODA issues, or disabilities, take that hand and make the best of it. And sometimes they even win the game.
I'm going to share some of those stories here in my blog. (With the names changed for reasons of confidentiality!) Maybe if I share them with you (my loyal few! haha!) I'll start believing again that what I do has worth and meaning and I can get back to that feeling each day. If I can get that back then this new job is going to be aces.
Though the supervisory portion of my job is still undefined I have no idea yet what it is I am expected to do. But I am also case managing a small handful of people which is the first time in a long time I have been directly responsible for those duties. What I'm discovering is just how much I missed that intense client contact. I've really been enjoying working with the people on my case list and, I have to say, it's been a real bright spot in all of this.
The other day I was going through some old papers in my desk and I came across some essays I wrote a long time ago. They were all stories of the personal strengths and triumphs of some of my past clients. I re-read them and started to remember why I love being a social worker. I started to remember how truly determined most people are and how, in spite of being dealt a pretty crappy hand, most people, even those with mental illness, AODA issues, or disabilities, take that hand and make the best of it. And sometimes they even win the game.
I'm going to share some of those stories here in my blog. (With the names changed for reasons of confidentiality!) Maybe if I share them with you (my loyal few! haha!) I'll start believing again that what I do has worth and meaning and I can get back to that feeling each day. If I can get that back then this new job is going to be aces.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Working with women...
I work in an agency largely populated by women. I supervise 17 people in my unit and only three of them are men. There are three supervisors here - all women. It's the nature of the job I know. Social work notoriously pays low so men, whose traditional role is still that of family bread winner, just can't make enough here to support a family. But that's not really the point of this blog entry. My point is this...
I find women to be completely baffling sometimes and, remember, I'm one of them! We go a long way to seek power and to be seen as competent and equal. We will fiercely defend one another in this as long as we're defending each other against a male counterpart. But it is also true that if we're in a position to compete against one another we can become the snarkiest, backstabbers on the planet. In one conversation we can go from praising someones accomplishments to making denigrating comments about her make up. We can hold the world together with our ability to multi-task, birth and raise kids, balance budgets and present a good front. We can also take it down with just a glance. Trust me, my mom has that look - the one that could always make me cry without her saying a single word! More often than not though we turn that look towards one another which is something I never really understood. Why is it that we seek to raise each other up only to cut each other down each chance we get? Are we afraid that shining a positive light on anyone else makes the light dim a little on us? Or is this some kind of conditioned response we've learned?
I've known a lot of strong women. I was raised by one in a family teeming with them. I grew up with many and befriended a few. Personally, I've never felt threatened by them nor have I ever felt the need to turn on them. I have a hard time understanding those who do.
I find women to be completely baffling sometimes and, remember, I'm one of them! We go a long way to seek power and to be seen as competent and equal. We will fiercely defend one another in this as long as we're defending each other against a male counterpart. But it is also true that if we're in a position to compete against one another we can become the snarkiest, backstabbers on the planet. In one conversation we can go from praising someones accomplishments to making denigrating comments about her make up. We can hold the world together with our ability to multi-task, birth and raise kids, balance budgets and present a good front. We can also take it down with just a glance. Trust me, my mom has that look - the one that could always make me cry without her saying a single word! More often than not though we turn that look towards one another which is something I never really understood. Why is it that we seek to raise each other up only to cut each other down each chance we get? Are we afraid that shining a positive light on anyone else makes the light dim a little on us? Or is this some kind of conditioned response we've learned?
I've known a lot of strong women. I was raised by one in a family teeming with them. I grew up with many and befriended a few. Personally, I've never felt threatened by them nor have I ever felt the need to turn on them. I have a hard time understanding those who do.
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