To say I was stunned when I first started as a social worker would be an understatement. I was employed by a rural county community mental health with the official job title of home-based therapist. When I took the job, I obviously realized it would require me going into homes on a daily basis. However, I did not realize the magnitude of poverty in the county and social worker school never prepared me for the things I can never un-see, un-smell, un-hear, un-feel.
Prior to being employed at CMH I had never been into a home where I wasn't sure where to sit because it was infested with bugs (always crossing my fingers for a hard chair), where I had to figure out if a parent was under the influence, where babies ran around in diapers so full they hit the floor, or where I had to text someone my whereabouts just in case they didn't hear from me in an hour. I think the only way I coped with leaving these types of homes every week was by telling myself they would be okay because "kids are resilient". I had heard it a million times throughout my schooling and I believed it to my core. In fact, I believed it the entire time I was employed at CMH. (I still believe it but I'm getting there) I believed it until one of my current coworkers said, "The only way for adults to cope with the type of work we do is to tell ourselves kids are resilient. I think the only reason we say it is to make ourselves feel better about terrible situations and to be able to sleep at night but it's a lie." I had to think about his statement for a long time. It challenged everything I believed and had been taught about kids and trauma. I think there is a lot of truth to the statement for kids who are surrounded by very, very strong support systems. My sister and are actually pretty good real life examples of how resilient kids can be but probably not to very much credit of our own. After our brother died, I can't even name all the things our support system did for us. Meals were brought forever, school lunches were packed for the rest of the year, our house was cleaned, funeral clothes were bought, Build-A-Bears were made, money was donated, support groups were formed, counseling was offered throughout adolescent years; I could go on forever. Our brother was and is celebrated and remembered. We thrive in adulthood because of people who were "boots on the ground" with us. What I've learned doing home-based therapy and now juvenile probation-too many kids only have one adult who is "boots on the ground" with them. And let's face it, it's a paid professional who eventually leaves their life because services terminate. Sometimes they don't have parents who will wake up with them to make sure they get to school on time. Even typing parent in the plural form is a stretch, many of the homes are single parent. Basic needs aren't being met. There is food scarcity, bill roulette (what bill should I risk not paying this month and hope services won't be shut off), no washer and dryer in the home and no money or vehicle to go to the laundry mat. Transportation barriers. Unemployment. Substance abuse issues and other mental health problems. Perhaps the biggest root issue being poverty. Actually today, I saw a Human's of New York post with a man essentially saying "Poverty creates a lot of sociopaths. I never became one but I can understand it. Because when nobody cares about your pain, it's easy to ignore the pain of others." This could not relate more directly to my career. "Delinquent youth" are largely a result of trauma and poverty ***in my opinion, not speaking on behalf of my employer should this ever be read. Hi mom you may be the only person who consistently reads this lol*** What if my parent's couldn't have afforded a funeral for my brother or mental health services following his death? I wonder how much money we have invested in psychotropic medication at this point. What if they were experiencing grief and at the exact same time couldn't feed our family or keep our electricity on? What if no one showed up to bring us meals because we lived in a bad part of town or they didn't have transportation to get there? If any of those things were true I promise you I wouldn't be the adult I am today. I would be the type of adult a lot of people in our society judge. In thinking about my coworkers statement, I've had to ask myself: If kids aren't resilient what are they? I've come to the conclusion they are survivors, which requires a whole lot of resiliency, but does not equal long term hopeful outcomes. I think the overused yet truthful phrase, "it takes a village" makes kids resilient and helps them transition from survival to thriving. This means taking pro-life issues beyond bringing babies safely into the world. This means mentoring-for the long haul not just a school year. I've had kids on my caseload waiting for mentors the entire time they are on probation. It means fostering, adopting, and providing respite. Or walking alongside a mom navigating a confusing system as she tries to reunify with her kids. It means loving people living in poverty and sharing what you've been blessed with, not for personal "feel goods" but because they are people, and in getting to know them, you learn you love them. I'm thankful for the people who have taught me to be resilient. I'm hopeful for the kids I work with and believe they are so resilient. By the time they come to the court's attention, they've likely survived a whole lot. But I want so much more for them, and praying the right, boots on the ground, caring adult or peer comes alongside them and teaches them to thrive. (Check in on your friends doing home-based work, I promise they have all experienced similar things and it's exhausting, important work. Same for teacher friends)
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I knew something was changing when I joined the #sportsbrasquad May 2 of last year. I posted a picture of myself in a sports bra on social media and wrote:
I'm turning 27 tomorrow and no one can be mean to you on your birthday so...here's something real quick. I wore a white shirt on my run tonight and 1 mile in, it started raining. What better time to join the #sportsbrasquad ? Women, we often see one thing associated with strength, and that's size (a pretty darn small one). We aren't used to seeing real women in real life. So here's me for reference. In lots of ways, I'm probably just like you. Strength is so much more than being small. Because of running (therapy too), and a few of the most genuine people I know, I'm learning how strong I really am, and not just physically. PS This is truly terrifying to post because other women will thing one of two things 1. Wow, she's overconfident and/or fishing for compliments or 2. Wow, she's awesome. Option 2ers, you're my people. Prior to training for a marathon, I would have never posted something like that because prior to training for a marathon, I would have never believed those things about myself. Social media can be a real pain, but it's the first place I started to see real women in real life. Women who aren't small, but proclaim (and are full of) strength. The first place I got the idea I too, could be strong. It's also been a place where I've seen hundreds of posts a day making me believe I had to buy a product, have a before and after, or look a certain way in order to be strong, healthy, and ultimately happy. Hey, even my story can be dangerous if it's only viewed on social media. It might send the message saying you're strong if you run a marathon, birth a baby, or come out decent after some childhood trauma. That's not what strength looks like for everyone. You don't have to run a marathon to be strong. You don't have to birth a baby to be strong. You don't have to have lost a brother and still have hope and joy to be strong. Right now, strength for me looks like working on restoring some friendships, being consistent in taking care of my mental health, being patient with a 1.5 year old I don't understand whatsoever, and ironically checking my pride on how strong I think I am because I ran a marathon :) LOL. I'm strong, healthy, and most days, confident in who I am and how I look. I wish so badly it wouldn't have taken me 27 years to figure all that out. It would have saved me a lot of self-negative talk, obsession over numbers, crash diets, and hatred towards my body. Lots of hours of flat ironing my hair piece by piece to be as absolutely pin straight as possible. I once used a literal clothing iron to get it even flatter. How dumb. I'm thankful for the ways running, motherhood, and grief have been used to teach me about how strong I really am but here's what I want you to know. I'm not currently training for a marathon. There is a good chance I never, ever will train for another one. but I still believe all of those words, maybe even more than I did when I wrote them the first time. So that's strength. Now confidence. I've learned a little bit about confidence in the past year. I'm thankful to have a husband who patiently listens as I verbally process (every aspect of my whole life). We were talking about confidence on our way home from church Sunday. When I joined the sports bra squad and posted about it, I added a one liner about people who might think I was fishing for compliments, because that's what I was afraid people might think. I just wanted to be proud of myself with out the disclaimer. My husband who is 5'4" aka very short for the average male, talked about times in his life where he was perceived as having "little man syndrome" because he was being assertive and confident. Confidence can be such a tricky thing. Too little and you're meak and unsure. Too much and you're cocky. In this society, an ounce of confidence is often mistaken as pride. As a result, we miss out on so many opportunities to model self-acceptance, boundaries, and courage for others. If you're ready to join the sports bra squad, post that picture of yourself tomorrow. If you've got some great non-screen related activities you're repping with your toddler at home, I won't think you're better than me, I need all the help I can get. If you worked really hard and lost some weight and are feeling more energized and joyful, tell someone. Not everyone will be happy for you or proud of you, but that's life and it's too short not to share the ways you're growing. Maybe it will even inspire others to better, that's where it all started for me. From some complete strangers on social media, thanks Kelly Roberts, Fellow Flowers, and January Harshe. Be strong and love yourself as you work on yourself and make yourself better. It's a process. Be confident in the things you are capable of and created to do. The world is waiting for it and I want to hear about it. |
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Hi! I'm Haley. Archives
May 2019
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