Category: Social Worky

Categories
Social Worky

Clowning Around

This morning I read that humor can be considered a hobby. It added that it’s a great hobby because it lightens, reminds us to not take ourselves too seriously, and (most appealing to me) doesn’t cost anything.

Reading this little tidbit led me down a rabbit hole (also often appealing to me). I looked up some studies about the quantifiable benefits of laughter. It’s a lot of “no duh!” such as laughter reduces cortisol, improves heart and respiratory rates, increases pain tolerance, and gives us the dopamine.

Of course the elements to be wary of were also addressed. Things like dark humor isn’t okay when it’s laughing at others versus laughing with others. And that the kind of self-depreciating humor where we mock our own inadequacies can get in our heads a little too much.

And, there in the midst of “be kind with your laughter” the research mentioned ElderClowns.

Okay. On the surface I can understand the value sending clowns to nursing homes. Humor shouldn’t be kept from anyone regardless of their age or life circumstances. That being said,…I broke the very rule I just read about where we don’t laugh at others.

I’m not mature enough to appreciate Dizzy and Peachy’s well intended efforts to make seniors laugh.

Federal grants led to tied on red noses and ukelele playing for dementia patients. These patients are people I want to jump in the computer, travel through time, and spare from the cringe.

The head clown stated that the program reduced elder aggression. I can only assume that’s false research. It did not reduce my aggression. Every time Peachy and Dizzy got in the personal space of the residents, I wanted to punch their red noses.

The news person talks into the camera as though there’s not clown atrocity happening right behind her, “What you see here may look like a performance, but these clowns are highly trained in the art of non-verbal communication.” Dizzy fake hits Peachy with her ukelele, Peachy dramatically falls.

Cut to Peachy and Dizzy in their business clothes. Their voices ooze social work as Peachy says, “We’re rooted in emotional character.” Clearly, these two didn’t read the same thing I did this morning about the importance of not taking yourself too seriously. Peachy and Dizzy’s clinical alter-egos nod affirmingly at each other in their little echo chamber of “we’re amazing.”

Back the the very serious sounding newswoman, “No big shoes here,…just big results”

In between cringing and my imaginary defenses of the women patients, I did laugh. Not in the right ways, but who knows maybe my cortisol is just a little lower. More importantly, it was a reminder that none of us should be prevented from trying to smile even when things are very challenging, and that laughter really does help all kinds of folks. A good chuckle can lift spirits and cleanse the mind. And it’s free!

Here’s to hoping something in your day makes you laugh! Thanks for reading!

Categories
Personal Growth (or not) Social Worky

Fish Movie Boundaries

One of the thing I do is to volunteer at the a theater as an usher/clean up crew. It’s been pretty cool. I see things I would have never otherwise seen like Japanese drumming, symphony, and now short films about trout. The people are generally very polite and congenial. It’s clear which of the people there have had too much to drink and maybe say things they wouldn’t otherwise, but they are rare.

Last night there was a dude who was different. He loomed up over me and started with common questions about what the show was.

“Is this about fish?”

“Uh,…yah.”

“Is it fiction?”

“I dunno man. I just open the door.”

“You just open the door?….is it like a Scorsese film.”

“Ha. I don’t think so.”

“So, is it like a Scorsese?”

I’d noticed that he’d moved in closer. With my back against the wall, I did not like having a large man only inches away from my face. I kept turning away to hold the door and engage with other folks. He wasn’t budging.

He asked if I fish. I told him no. He asked if I camp specifically “in the raw” (whatever that means). My gut did not like his questions, proximity, or his inability to pick up on my cues that I felt I had fulfilled my usherly courteous obligation.

This seems like the time to point out that I’m NOT the type to overreact to challenging social interaction. I wouldn’t call myself a tough girl, but I really do spend a lot of time in enough very tough situations without panicking.

“I’m from the mountains. I just come down to town to see what’s going on. Are you from the mountains?”

“No.”

“Oh, you’re from Redding. Are your parents living?” What the actual fuck?

I continued to try to dismiss him. He proceeded to let me know about his daughter and his wife that moved back out of the county. (Shocking.) He talked about his family in so cal. “Do you surf?” As I type it out, it all seems benign. But his insistence and his continued closing in on me was unsettling to say the least.

A bunch of thoughts were in my head. Why the fuck did my fellow door man, Rose, not show for her shift? Why when I try to throw ESP signals to security are they not looking at this dude? Am I being overdramatic? Have I become instantly soft? Thankfully the gods of drunk men gave me a chance to dispel some of that. As this went on, some beer-spiller totally interrupted creepy guy and called out “you’re beautiful.” He was drunk (and inaccurate) but somehow not creeping me the fuck out. This told me I was reacting to this specific creeper for some reason.

Creepy guy continued to pepper with questions that I did my best to parry away. He’d look down on me and “hmmmm.”

At one point he let me know that his deceased mother warned him about women like me.

I’m literally just there to open the door for people to see the trout movies. He asked how I spent my time as a child. I didn’t answer him. He didn’t take the hint and asked again. “I’m not comfortable answering any more of your questions.” He then said something about how he never tries to take married or taken women.

Luckily I saw someone I knew and dipped. The someone I knew was with some other person who was able to say that he saw the creeper and that it was really weird. I felt relieved, but then then a bit annoyed that it was like I needed someone to confirm the strangeness of the encounter. I should know that my comfort level doesn’t to be sanctioned by others. My boundary is mine to define and needs no defense.

I wandered over to security and let them know there was a creeper. They don’t know me. I felt (right or wrong) that they suspected I may have been overreacting. I mean, what can I expect strutting around in that fanny pack and lanyard. Whether they thought my concern was warranted or not, they still kindly said they would “keep an eye out” and walk me to my car at the end.

The dude disappeared. The trout movies were actually pretty cool. And my night ended with me un-murdered. Win-win-win.

Because I overthink things though, I ruminated about my imaginary murderer.

It made me think of a great book I read close to 20 years ago; “The Gift of Fear” by Gavin DeBecker. It was given to me by my MSW internship supervisor, Gayle. I wondered if it was intended to turn me into someone who just knows they’re always about to become some sort of victim. That’s not who I want to be and that’s fortunately now how the book read. It was more about “listen to your gut.”

He did however talk about the trap that folks can fall in when they’re being agreeable. This is probably a grossly inaccurate paraphrase, but essentially, bad guys use our niceness against us. I think most people want to be nice and assume positive intent from others. However, that doesn’t mean we have to compromise our boundaries or ignore our gut when it sends up the red flag.

The creepy dude reminded me of some people I’ve known in my work who’ve experienced unspeakable traumas and as a result sometimes never develop appropriate social skills. I have empathy for those folks. That empathy doesn’t need to result in me tolerating what feels unsafe.

“Wow Crystal. You’re putting way too much in to a weirdo hitting on you.”

I know. I overthink things. But I wanted to talk about it. My story at home included “dude wasn’t reading the signs at all” which was met with “You were answering the questions. What do you mean he wasn’t reading the signs?” I’m sure Brian was caught off guard by my strong and abrupt position. But it was an instantaneous highlight of how we can accidentally make people feel like it’s their fault when someone encroaches on our boundaries. It’s not. I didn’t cause the film fest creeper.

Your boundaries are not a list of do’s and don’t’s. They’re the guardrails for what you will accept and not accept. They don’t require justification and it’s not your fault if someone violates them.

If your boundaries are tested today, that is not a reflection on you. It’s a reflection on tester. It doesn’t matter if it’s socially awkward grown ups or if its your hamster’s physical therapist holding a hand out for a post Hamster PT tip; no is a complete sentence.

Thanks for reading!

Categories
Social Worky

Machine Washable Gladiators

Believe it or not, there was a time when I didn’t work for public non-profit child welfare.

I had a starter career in the bank. I liked it. Especially when I got to do extra cool things like fly on the company plane to exotic places like Cresent City to train people. But it didn’t seem like it was the kind of job to spark my soul. I got serious about the college thing, found psychology classes to be captivating, and yada yada yada was working near child welfare, but not quite in it.

As a foster family agency social worker, I would have infrequent need to unearth some court clothes and go to hearings with children, parents, and foster parents. I remember very clearly when THE social workers would arrive. The ones from the County who had direct involvement in whatever matter was at hand. I know it will sound cheesy and fake, but they seemed so cool to me. They’d walk up the stairs in a group typically and it wasn’t a far stretch to for my imagination to see a theatrical slo-mo walk accompanied by music that indicates they’re bad. Ass!

I wanted to be a part of it. The difference between private and public child welfare is that the worker is more directly involved in cases. They are the ones who report recommendations directly to the court. In child welfare social work, if the court becomes involved, every major decision is made by the court based on the social worker’s reports of the work by parents. It’s important to remember that it IS the parents who do the incredibly hard work required of participation. They will succeed because of themselves. But the worker also works very hard. They cheerlead, have difficult talks, direct towards things that can help, hold accountability, and have a level of responsibility that is intense. It sounds straightforward enough, but it’s actually quite complex.

It’s by design that that our system has people in everyone’s corner. This is intended to give balanced information by which incredibly important decisions are to be made. Differing perspectives lead to conflicting ideas about what the right thing to do with a family may be. And it’s in those times of conflicting ideas that social worker determination is tested hardest.

I’ve worked with a lot of workers in my time, and every single one has taken on the task because they genuinely want to help kids and families. They may have varying approaches for how that happens, but it is their purpose.

So, when you take someone who really believes they’re making the best recommendations and enter them into a gauntlet of criticism, it can take a toll on a social worker. Common are the moments for social workers in which no matter what steps they take, they know someone will be outraged.

Add to this the unending stack of demands from all angles, feelings, and seemingly unreasonable expectations and it can become a stew only the strong can stomach.

And they do.

Each social worker can without a moment’s hesitation recall stories of things that went so well they can give you goosebumps. I don’t know if for all of the workers if it’s those moments that get them through times that seem unreasonable, but I know those stories are what keeps me going.

Baby social worker me was very confused about the amount of influence those action hero county workers had. I imagine every social worker goes through a developmental milestone of their own when that realization hits. Nevertheless, they persist because it’s what they believe in.

I wish our system didn’t need to exist. But it does for good reason. And when I can think about any number of incredible things that happen every day, I’m more than inspired to continue. I’m fiercely dedicated it in a way that’s probably considered a pathological loyalty. And to the rest of the machine washable gladiators that also signed on to do the same honorable work, thank you! If you have an idea for what the slo-mo walk up song to department 11 should be, let me know.

Thanks for reading!

Categories
Personal Growth (or not) Social Worky

Trusting Yourself

It’s the time of my prepping for bikini competition where I have moments of doubt coupled with moments of time to think. That’s not the best combination.

On the upside though, it creates circumstances where I try to learn new things. Thanks Spotify for the pod casts and (judge if you must) guided meditations. Before you cast me in to the group that is convinced the illuminati are to blame for the price of eggs, hear me out. If you can overcome the painfully soothing voices and spa music, some of those meditations have some decent messages worth listening to.

This morning, the one that rotated through was on self trust.

When I “relaxed inside myself” did I really see an orb of pure white light that moved from the size of a pinpoint to (ironically) the size of a watermelon? No. Not in the slightest. I’m not judging if you do these things and you do end up with melon orbs, but that’s just not my experience.

The experience wasn’t wasted though.

The melon orb was supposed to signify “intuition.” K.

At the end of the calming directions, auditory Xanax said, “Ask your intuition what you need to know.”

There was still time remaining in the tanning bed (gotta be Oompa Loompa colored for bikini comps *eyeroll), so as lame as it seemed; I did internally ask myself what I need to know.

I was metaphorically crisply slapped into attention with the thought “it’s going to be okay.”

After I stopped being shocked that anything came to my brain, I began to promptly over think things. “What’s going to be okay?! Am I missing the opportunity to worry about something?!”

I was able to promptly come up with a list of things about which to worry. Some big, some small, some of my own creation, some outside of my control completely. But then I thought it again “it’s going to be okay.” It was like that’s the branded answer for whatever ______(insert worry here) was.

Okay. That’s not a bad message I guess, but where does a thought like that come from?

One of my Sunday post gym fave things to do is to try to learn stuff on ye olde computer.

Today I landed on a video about 8 Signs You Don’t Trust Yourself. It sounded like maybe it’d be about how someone shouldn’t have a credit card or be solely in charge of whether or not they cut bangs in their hair.

It was an interesting 6 minutes that wasn’t about credit or hair at all.

They start in the classic pop psychology/graduation speech fashion of having the definition of a word. “Trust is firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something.”

According to the cute little cartoon guy, the signs to know if you struggle to trust yourself are:

  1. You second guess your decisions: A cue for of this applies is when you struggle to decide. Their example was choosing between pancakes and waffles, but I’m sure this could apply to lots of other decisions too, like things at work.  
  2. You overthink everything: After cartoon guy landed on pancakes, he wondered how good the waffles were and if he made the right choice.
  3. You trust other people’s opinions more than your own: How is a cartoon guy supposed to know if pancakes or waffles are better?!
  4. You don’t validate your own experiences: The cartoon guy had the feeling of “I swear that I remembered to do that” but then completely felt that he hadn’t and doubted himself. In my life, this one looks like I’ve walked a fair amount away from the car and then feel like I didn’t lock the car so I walk back and “boop” the key fob again just in case.  
  5. You’re afraid to speak up; you back away from being the center of attention: Cartoon guy was afraid of being judged even in groups of close friends.
  6. You try to control everything: Cartoon guy found himself taking charge and planning ahead with hypervigilance. The message was that religiously planning ahead can be a result of worrying that you don’t feel like you can trust yourself if there’s curve balls. Think person who gets their fam to the airport at 2 am for the 8 am flight.
  7. You struggle to recognize your worth: Cartoon guy felt embarrassed when people compliment him. And no matter how many compliments he got, he continued to sell himself short.
  8. You’re overly critical of yourself: Cartoon guys is always the first to point out his own mistakes. He maybe follows it up with some statement to normalize falling on a sword that no one asked him to with comments like “it’s my Catholic guilt” or whatever.

I resonated with some of the 8 signs. Especially that one where you don’t want to be the center of attention (Golden State Championships bikini competition 3/25 in San Jose BWAH HA!). But the rest of that resonating can be daunting. How is knowing that maybe you don’t trust yourself supposed to be helpful?!

Thankfully cartoon guy brought it back around. You can cultivate self trust. You can doubt, but still have hope that you’ve got the internal tooling to make good choices.

Essentially, just listen to your own illuminated watermelon and know that it’s all going to be some kind of okay.

Thanks for reading!

Categories
Social Worky

Help Wanted

I was a banker for 12 years. It was my starter career, and I enjoyed it a lot. I began just being a minimally scheduled teller, but by the time I left I’d had some really cool assignments such as managing a branch and the epic training gig. I got to ride the company plane to exotic ports of call like Modesto and Crescent City. Unfortunately, the plane didn’t go to Covelo so that was just sketchy winter driving with Corey. Corey was really bright. And funny, so he could joke about how he got the tattoo in college of his initials in Chinese, but then later learned that there’s not a Chinese Kanji alphabet. I didn’t feel like Corey and I were well-suited to winter wilderness survival, so I’m glad we made the drive okay.

As great as the bank was, I didn’t see it being my forever career. The social worker in me was already brewing.

I “felt bad” when tasked with trying to get people to get loans that maybe they shouldn’t get. I felt really bad when people would come in after a weekend and wonder what happened to all their money only to learn that their partner had spent it all gambling. Or even worse, they themselves had spent it all and didn’t know.

There’s better people than me who can fill the needed roles of bankers and I’m thankful for them. I just am not “them.”

But it’s not like I’d set out to launch into behavioral health work.

A fun trip down memory road for me is to look at my Shasta College transcripts. They’re lengthy and read so clearly of a person who didn’t take it seriously or know what on earth they wanted to do. Multiple dropped classes, more than one academic probation. It was clear there was no focus. Maybe I was going to be a lawyer, maybe work in business, maybe teach; regardless of where I was going to land, I started to set the hopefully attainable goal of finishing a “2 year program” in less time than it would take to raise children to adulthood.

For a while, it was questionable if I’d hit that mark.

I took a psychology class and focus became clear. “Wait a second…! I can observe behavior and use tools to try to help it modify!? AND get paid?!?!?”

Sign. Me. UP!

Before Shasta was wrapped up, I was trying to get in to grad school. They have some silly rule about needing a bachelor’s before that happens so whatever; but I concurrently enrolled in Shasta and Simpson. I wanted to make up for time I lost not knowing what the fuck I wanted to do.

I’m happy to have had all the employment experiences I have since that time, but I’m most happy to be where I’ve been the last 14 years; County child welfare social work.

Before landing here, I really was a fan girl of the county workers. I remember waiting in the halls of court and seeing them walk up the stairs. Their lanyards swinging with their signifying awesomeness. They were able to work directly with a family on amazing goals and to talk directly to the court about what they felt was in family’s best interest. They didn’t know it, but they had walk up music playing for them in my head. They were cool AF.

I continue learn (every single day) that the job is complex, often fake, and sometimes soul crushing. But when it hits right, there’s nothing better.

We’re in a spot of perpetual hiring right now. It’s hard for the people carrying the extra weight while we have less social workers. Blame it on COVID, millennials, Trump, Biden whatever….the truth of the matter is there’s been a dramatic shift in employment culture. From my agency through to Popeye’s chicken there’s a hiring crisis.

But I take comfort knowing that there’s other bankers, food servers, stay-at-home parents etc who could quite possibly be coming to the conclusion that they too may have a career in behavioral health.

I’m lucky to work every day with people who’ve also felt called to this work. We’re a kindred group with diverse stories that have all led us to the common goal of wanting to serve our community. They’re all at different parts of their journey. Some are ready to stay there until those sweet retirement benefits kick in. Some are just trying it on for size. It’s absolutely not a job for everyone, and that’s okay. (See aforementioned “soul crushing”) But for those of us that it is a fit, it’s hard to imagine doing anything else.

This should be the part where I tie up all my random career thoughts in a nice closing statement, but I’m not an author or a banker. Damn it Jim, I’m social worker. So, I guess I’ll close with I hope this makes workers feel good and that maybe it makes someone else feel like they may want to give this a try.

Thanks for reading!

Categories
Social Worky Things I Think are Funny

Free Ice Cream!

I like to give blood. And not just because they give you free ice cream.

Much like me, my blood is basic. There’s literally nothing cool about it. I’m not like Brian with his “everybody wants some” O+. With just basic blood, you have to wonder if they’re just being polite when they take yours. Like, maybe they don’t want to hurt feelings or deter positive behavior so they just go through the motions of sticking me and then put the blood in the blood fridge in that space where the un-helpful blood goes. I used to envision my poor little blood bags having a fate similar to boxes of lettuce that live in the vegetable drawer in the fridge only to be thrown out when it gets slimy.

I’m thinking I’m not the only person who wondered about things like this since a couple years ago the blood people have switched up their business model to include something I really like. If history is any indicator, here in the next couple of weeks I’ll get a text letting me know that someone is getting my blood. When that text comes, I have a moment of “Man! I hope they’re alright” followed by a moment of “eesh,…I hope they don’t get the part of my blood that’s responsible for me being a werido.” I know that’s not how weirdness works, but it still makes me nervous for them. I also have the moment that I can only compare to when you have unexpected company at house, that sense of dread like “I should have cleaned better.” My blood is much cleaner than my house, but I still feel nervousness hoping it meets standards (yes,…I’m aware I overthink things. Thank you for your concern 😊)

The actual task of giving blood is really no big deal. Despite that, I still refuse to look when I’m getting stuck to check my iron and getting stuck with the blood taking needle. The latter hurts less than the first. Since I’ve never watched that part, I decided to feel brave and watch a YouTube of the process. Can confirm, it’s really not a big deal. I doubt I’ll watch in my own arm, but I now know that there’s no need for me to petition for my own medal of valor for the “bravery” needed to have a needle but in a vein.

There’s a million questions all of which confirm my basicness. No, I didn’t live in the UK for period of time greater than five years. No, I haven’t spent more than 72 consecutive hours in a detention facility in the last 4 months. No, I haven’t had a tattoo or piercing in the last 4 months (boo!) But fun fact, you still can donate if you have. Some of the naughty questions read way more complex than an SAT question or math word problem. I have to read them a couple times to make sure I’m answering correctly. “A person left Boston on a train traveling at 64 miles per hour, did you have sex with them?” “Was it in the Falkland Islands?” (these jokes only have a chance at being funny to people who’ve given blood. Go jokes! Find your audience!)

On my donation days, I like to back in to my parking spot. Not as a flex, but because I don’t back up well in general and really don’t want the blood people to have to watch my seamless backing and wonder if I’m too low on fluids to drive away. I also like to make sure that I sit in the blood couch for a while after they take the needle out. Turns out that it only takes once of me feeling woozy when I stood for me to be forever worried it’ll happen again. I feel like my dogs when they limp around not using a foot even after there’s no more sticker in their paw. And finally, I like to make sure that I take bloody pictures and virtual signal about my task. Mostly because I post way too much, but also because I want people to know it’s an easy way to help others.

If you’re looking for a way to help people, maybe give it a go. They’ll happily take your blood in trade for Hagen Daz (or whatever your brand is). If you go, not that it’s a competition, but I can bleed in just over 6 minutes.

Thanks for reading!

Categories
Personal Growth (or not) Social Worky

I Don’t Know

Be brave enough to say “I don’t know.”

This is a note that I found in my phone today. It located in between a quote from the Nice Guys movie that made me laugh and a shopping list. I have no idea what compelled me to make it as a note. It’s my survival skill, the cornerstone upon which I base my entire existence. It’s not like I need to look at my phone to remind myself to say “I have no idea what’s going on,” but there is was nonetheless.

I just think it’s funny that I landed on it again today.

Tuesday starts a new role for me at work. A million years ago, when I promoted from a social worker to a supervisor, a sage woman with the wildest gray hair possible told me that she had never said “I don’t know” more in her entire life than she had in her first six months as a supervisor.

Clearly I thought this wouldn’t apply to me. I knew my job well, and I was eager to take on more. Even more clearly though, I was wrong.

Supervising is not the same as doing the job. Someone can be excellent at what they do, but that’s not an automatic translation to coaching. Doubt? Think of your favorite elite football (or other sport ball team) athletes. Look at their coaches. See that huge disparity in the two? One’s built like a marble statue and can move like apex predator. The other has a clipboard and quite possibly a beer gut. Proof positive that coaching and doing are two different skill sets.

As I was growing up as a baby supervisor, I was very thankful that I’d been given the tip that it’s okay not to know everything. It freed me from feeling compelled to try to misrepresent myself or to feel a need to hide inadequacies. Despite the deceptive name, imposter syndrome is real.

People (myself included) can do some seriously funky things when they are trying to characterize themselves as something like perfect.  We can become defensive, shift blame, or other forms of deflection. We can even become passive aggressive. I’m not passive aggressive, unlike some people I know. Or we can become condescending. Condescending means talking down to someone (These are memes….not personal statements. And they’re hilarious memes, at that).

I don’t want to do those things. I want to keep focused on the values that cause us all to be passionate about the work and celebrate successes. I also need to be aware of areas in which I have room for growth. “Everybody gets a trophy” doesn’t do too well for encouraging people to continue to live to their potential.

You may not be in the same spot as me, gearing up for your job change and avoiding gigantic office spiders. Even so, there’s still value in everyone knowing that you don’t have to “know it all.” I’m grateful for those who can be still in their humility and live as an example for others. Those who embody the quote; ““Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it’s thinking of yourself less.” (C.S..Lewis, probably). We are lucky to have you. I’m also thankful in advance for the grace from everyone when I say “I don’t know” a whole lot here soon. Please know I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m just being brave (bwah ha!)

Thanks for reading!

Categories
Social Worky

Social Work Action Flick

The makings for greatness were there. The movie’s main character was a social worker. It is an action movie in which said social worker (SW) is going to be a bad ass. It had some great actors including consummate dysfunctional role players like Brue Dern and Fran Grillo.

It could have been a good movie.

It wasn’t.

With many other of the ingredients being on point, it begs the question about if what screwed it up was trying to make the SW out to be sparkplug of action.

For the most part; when SWs show up in films, they are either too heartless (“Nothing you can say or do will stop me from ruining your family”) or to heartful/self-important (“Your life will be perfect because I am going to raise you as my own” or “I am saving you”).

Real social work shouldn’t happen on either of those extreme ends. Sometimes it does. The results are typically some kind of disastrous.

As a result of the common role SWs hold in movies, I was genuinely excited to see Gateway.

I tried not to look for accuracies or inaccuracies as it went along; but I couldn’t help myself. SW drove a nice Monte Carlo SS to complete his field work, false. SW had a maladaptive way of coping with the stressors of the job; truer than I’d like it to be.

For Parker (“Badge number 2261” *eyeroll), alcohol and drugs were how he dealt with the emotions of his chosen field. I wanted to call out the to TV, “Parker! You can’t do some blow in your Monte Carlo before you go in and talk to a family about the importance of sobriety!”

Parker seemed to have forgotten that he chose social work. While there are associated feelings with the work; acting caught off guard about it would be like the bridge builder crumbling at the thought that his job includes building bridges.

Get your shit together Parker. Go to the gym or buy something shiny to deal with your feelings like the rest of us. It’s call pro-social activity, figure it out.

Some of Parker’s interactions tracked pretty well to SW. He was well intended. He wanted safe families and absence of trauma for kids. His desk was a fucking disaster. He had a chi vampire co-worker. And like many of us child welfare social workers, he’d had a pro boxing career before signing on to social services. (*eyeroll again)

Maybe it was his incredible passion for his purpose, or maybe it was his dysfunctional upbringing; but Parker was broken.

(Not sure if anyone intends on watching this “movie”; but there’s spoilers coming)

One night while Parker was social working his heart out in what he called the projects. His car was broken in to and he saw two young men run away with his stereo. Later, Parker takes himself a little bump of cocaine off his hand while sitting in his car at the gas station. He then hops out of that car pointing a gun at those same men. They ask him if he’s a cop. “I’m your worst nightmare! I’m a social worker with a gun!” (*MEGA eyeroll!)

Yup. That is a nightmare. As was the movie. It brought me to the point of checking the run time on it, 91 minutes, short enough to justify watching all of it to make sure I could effectively complain about every second of it. There was a death scene that made me long for some side character to just come over and shoot the dude again to get it over with.

Nevertheless, I’ll keep watching SW movies and hoping for one that captures the task as I see it. But I recognize that may not happen. There’d have to be slow motion capture of filing, or hype music as the sternly worded email is written.

Even though I’m ready to lend my expertise to the actress who’d play me (probably Scarlett Johansson bwah ha!), she wouldn’t get it. She’d try to overact the role. There’s not likely to be a movie with a strong SW lead, because SWs aren’t leads in the stories we’re a part of. The families are responsible for their glorious successes or for their other outcomes. We are just there to try to help.

My SW friends and I probably won’t be involved in shootouts with cartel members we’ve accidentally stolen drugs from; at least I fucking hope not. But we will have the chance to think about the work we are doing. Continue to make decisions based on if they further your goal of helping the kid or family. Ask yourself if the work you’re doing “feeds the bulldog.” If it does, you’re doing the work of the greatest movie that will never be made.

Thanks for reading!  

Categories
Social Worky

Thanks for Staying Cake

Where is that emo Alanis Morrisette when you need her? Because I got some shit that’s pretty ironic she should sing about.

We do a silly thing at work called “Thanks for Staying” cake. Probably close to 7 years ago now, there was a bitch session with some of the folks at my work after we’d had cake to celebrate someone’s departure. “Hey! Why do we have cake when people leave? Shouldn’t we have cake when people stay?”

And thus a tradition was born.

It’s a silly gesture that in no way makes up for what folks at my job give up to be there. But it’s an effort on the part of the leadership team to show that people who stay on are appreciated “We can’t change your work, we can’t change your pay, but here’s some sugar that says you’re important.”

It’s mock worthy if someone’s so inclined, but it really comes from a pure place. The entire leadership team contributes and hopes everyone knows that they are valued. We seem to really key in to the need for this event in times like we’re in right now. Times when there’s been a mini exodus of workers and those left behind are feeling more and more pressure.

My cake ordering has been dialed in for a few years. It’s always been smooth. I followed my same protocol this time. My Alanis moment came when the store called me 2 days before cake to advise of the following: “We’re sorry. We’re not going to be able to fill your order. We are too short staffed to do custom cakes.”

My “thanks for staying cakes”?! A little too ironic, don’t you think?

Never fear, there’s a solution. Cake day will still happen, but it just sheds a little light on the big picture of employment right now.

I went to Oregon a couple of weeks ago. It was a lot of seat time. I was stunned about all the places that had giant signs up looking for workers. My ass is old enough that I’ve cruised through a couple recessions. Times when people were begging for work and it just wasn’t there. And now, Child Welfare, cake bakers, mechanics, and more just can’t fill spots. It’s wild.

I expect the world will get back to some version of normal. I’m not sure when or what the long term implications will be, but pendulum swings are inevitable.

In the meantime, it makes me even more appreciative of those at my work. Every single person that works there is capable of making money some easier way. They are all bright strong individuals.

That being said, it’s clearly not the money that makes them stay. There’s a lot of reasons people are drawn to the work that we do; personal experience, attempts at altruism, a need to be constantly challenged, to name a few.

The reasons they stay are just as varied; sense of family with coworkers, personal sense of responsibility, mortgages, whatever.

Sometimes whatever drew them to the work is no longer enough. And that’s okay too. Child welfare is not something that just anyone can do or sustain. There’s no shame in that.

But those of us who can’t imagine what it would be like to have a normal job stay on. And in times like these, it’s really easy to get toxic about the situation. Negativity takes less work. Remaining positive requires us to look at what we can control, maintain our physical health, set boundaries with those who just can’t seem to stop bitching. That’s a lot of work at a time when everyone already has a lot of work.

These times suck, but it will get better. It always does. One of the things about the machine that is child welfare is that it will go on regardless of barriers in it’s way. There’s no new crop of cyborg county workers headed our way, but pendulum swings are inevitable.

So in the meantime, buckle up, check on your friends, eat your cake and know none of it can stop you from choosing every day to do great things.

Thanks for reading!

Categories
Social Worky

Child Welfare Needs Joe Rogan

Child welfare needs Joe Rogan’s help. Yes, that Joe Rogan. The same one who was the funny guy in the tv show. The witty comedian who helped us all watch people do gross or scary things while he openly mocked them or leered at them.

Not to stereotype child welfare social workers, but I would guess that most haven’t paid attention to  Joe Rogan in a while. The social work type are probably busy watching other kinder, gentler things. But while they weren’t watching, Joe Rogan has become an icon of our time.

He’s insightful, knowledgeable, balanced, incredibly connected, and outspoken. He’s also a fan of the ganja and still hilarious.

And that’s where we need him. (Or someone like him)

If I had to make a blanket statement about the use of marijuana, I would say that I’m not opposed to it. It’s not a thing for me, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t be a thing for you. But can it be harmful? Absolutely.

With it’s legalization, we’ve kind of strayed from remembering that. I’ve only been a child welfare social worker for 17 ish years. But that’s enough time to be able to see trends and changes. On the upside, we’ve seen weed go from being a completely illicit substance that would generate big reactions from CPS to the thing that people were willing to say they were disabled to be able to use it, to straight up legalization. In those changing environments, it can be easy to lose sight of the bigger picture.

Just because something is legal doesn’t mean it won’t be abused. If you’ve any doubt, I encourage you to look at our old buddy alcohol. You’ve been able to buy it next to the milk at your local store for every. It’s been legal for most of it’s time in existence, still fucks up relationships and families with extreme efficiency.  

But also looking at ye olde alcohol, we know that there are tons of people who can use in moderation or use in such a way that the safety of their children is not impacted. In my non weed user opinion, I believe the same can be true for marijuana.

But here’s the problem.

If child welfare is looking at a situation in which marijuana use could be a contributing factor to a child being in danger, it’s likely that we are going to drug test the person. The challenge with weed is; if you test positive for me today, I don’t know if that means that you used a little today, or a lot at some point in the last few weeks. That information could make or break a situation when social services is at your door. Maybe the pot I’m reading on your test was from last weekend when nothing bad happened. But if I can’t tell, I also have to wonder if you used pot the morning your baby got out in the street. It’s a serious complication.

I imagine it’s a problem for other places too. Such as industrial jobs where reflexes and acuity are important. If there’s an accident, it would be nice to be able to show that the thc the worker tested positive for was from his weekend time and not from the day of the thing.

I don’t think Joe Rogan can fix this on his own, but I think he can help. Dude’s had Jordan Peterson, Elon Musk, Lex Fridman, and Neil deGrasse Tyson on his show. Brilliant minds, every one. None have a noted specialty in restructuring marijuana drug testing, but I bet they know a guy.

I don’t know Joe Rogan or anyone who does. I mean, my brother did shoot pool with him one time, but I don’t think that’ll get me what I’m after. So, if you do know Joe Rogan, or some other person who can benefit humanity by improving drug testing; please ask them to do child welfare a solid and help us out.

Thanks for reading!