The One Year "Curse"

As of yesterday, I have officially been working with my current job for one year. One long, trying year. As I've been reflecting on this time, I'm realizing how much it's changed me and how much I've learned. I'm also realizing how accurate my college professors were when they talked about the need to take care of yourself so you don't get "burned-out". This is a widely known term in the social service profession... that and "turnover rate" are two dreaded phrases used to reinforce the importance of "self-care". "Burned-out" is essentially getting to a point in your job where you literally can't stomach the thought of dealing with one more case, one more out-of-control parent, or one more obnoxious child. Burn-out can happen pretty quickly if you're not careful. "Turnover rate" is related to the amount of time it takes for workers to get to this "burn-out" and decide they need to leave their current occupation for something different, meaning that the organization then has to replace that person... Turnover rates in this profession average about six months. There's also this thing called the "one year curse". After you've been working at this type of job for one year, it's pretty typical that you start (if you haven't already) to lose hope, your heart hardens a bit, and you begin to lose the drive and compassion you had for this work. Essentially, it's time for a break.

Now, smart social workers would have taken a break in the midst of their first year, preventing some of the negative side effects of the year. However, most social workers graduate from college with this notion that they are superheroes and are going to save the world and don't need any kind of vacation.

"My clients need me, I can't take time off."
"When this one case closes, I'll take a break."
"When this one case closes, everything will settle down."
"I don't have anywhere to go, so I might as well just work."
"Oh, I'm fine. I don't need a break."

I've personally used all of these. I thought I was strong enough to just push through the stress and frustrations and that if I just endured a bit longer, everything would get better eventually. I wanted to prove my professors wrong. I wanted to prove my co-workers wrong. I wanted to prove to myself that I was superwoman.

Then something happened that completely broke me down and forced me to reevaluate my "superpowers." Basically, I had all kinds of faith and hope in a situation that started out completely under control, but suddenly escalated into something no one expected. These things happen CONSTANTLY in this profession... it's something you have to get used to pretty quickly. My friend Allison, who is much better with words than I am, wrote about a similar situation about a month ago. I would encourage you to read her story here, as she really captures the emotion better than I do. Anyways, I let myself get too emotionally involved in this particular case and the decision that was made struck me to the core. Almost immediately, walls were built, defenses went up, and my heart grew cold. I completely shut down my emotions so I didn't have to deal with how I really felt about the situation. My compassion was gone. I was burned-out.

That was about a month ago. Since then, I've been struggling to get by in the social work world. I'm still lacking compassion, have little faith in what I'm doing, and am fighting the urge to look for other jobs daily. I have a week of vacation time scheduled, but not for awhile. I'm hoping that after that week of (hopefully) doing absolutely nothing, I'll feel refreshed and ready to conquer the world again. However, I'm also trying to be realistic.

I know these things happen. I get it. I did not choose an "easy" job. I don't know how many times I've considered running back to Build-A-Bear or Subway. Seriously. However, I know this is where I'm supposed to be. I know that even in the midst of this disheartening season, God is working through me. Even though I'm having to push myself beyond what I feel capable of, which is both physically and mentally exhausting, God shows me new mercies daily and encourages me to show that same compassion and grace. Some days, this seems totally unachievable. It's always in those days that God shines through.

A couple weeks ago, a few kids were having a conversation in the backseat of my car. This happened to be one of those days where I was just struggling. One of the kids asked his brother what he wanted to be when he grew up. He responded with a police officer. The other boy then said he would like to be on border patrol to stop people from Mexico from coming into the US with drugs (this is rather significant because both of their parents are drug addicts). The girl then asked me what my "official" job title was. I told her I was a social worker and she said she wanted to be that too. I asked why and she said because she wanted to save lives. I laughed and quickly explained that I did not "save" lives. Without missing a beat, she said, "Well, you saved mine."

Oh... hey, God.

The kids deserve better than this. With as much as they've been through, they don't need someone who is cold and heartless and just numb to the world. They need someone to fight for them, because they are not capable of doing it themselves. I don't care how many times they argue and scream at each other in the back seat or how often they lie about who hit who... these kids need someone in their lives who is going to be a constant encouragement. Someone who is going to love them regardless of what they do. Someone who lifts them up daily and comforts them when they just can't hold it together anymore. I am capable of being that person. With God's grace, I CAN conquer this slump. I can be that person the kids need me to be.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18: "So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison,  as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."

I know there's a reason God has me in this place. I see it daily. In the kids I hang out with, in the parents who demonstrate even the slightest bit of improvement each week, and in my fellow coworkers, who go through the exact same things I'm going through. Praise God for community and that we all have this common bond and can relate to each other's feelings and emotions without judgment. Together, we can get through these seasons. 

I can't lose heart. I will beat the "One Year Curse". Me and God... we got this. 

You win, God.

Those who know me know that I am a procrastinator. My college professors called me an "active" procrastinator because although I would wait until the night before a paper was due to start it, it was ALWAYS a fantastic paper and for some reason, if I had started it sooner, it was not as good. I'm very pressure prompted and I work best under stress. Typically, this trait serves well in my job. However, because I work from home and don't have a supervisor beating on my door for paperwork everyday, I often get behind. Unfortunately, if there are not consequences to my behaviors, I struggle to do what I'm supposed to do. I try giving myself consequences all the time. For example, I deactivated my Facebook until I finish all my late paperwork. I figured this would motivate me, because I have a friend that I can only talk to on Facebook and he's only available on Saturdays. I deactivated Facebook Sunday night thinking that I would be motivated enough to finish everything by Saturday so I could talk to this friend. Nope. Still didn't happen. Even now, the only reason I'm writing this post is in an act of procrastination. If I have strict deadlines, I have NO problem meeting them. However, because I don't have anyone holding me accountable/giving me deadlines for the work I need to do for my job, it's a huge struggle. 


The only One who has ever been able to motivate me is God. I have no problem doing something if I know He's asked me to do it. 


"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men." - Colossians 3:23

Ugh. Fine. You win, God.

It Shouldn't Hurt to be a Child.

This is and has always been one of my favorite weeks of the year... U93 is hosting it's annual Roofsit to promote awareness and raise money for child abuse. Recently, I have not exactly been a fan of U93, only because the music they play is not always what I want to listen to. That being said, I have made it a point to listen more this week because they always have representatives from local non-profit agencies that discuss their efforts to prevent child abuse. I work closely with many of these agencies and love what they stand for. Today, a couple volunteers with CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates) spoke on air about what they do in regards to child abuse/neglect. I personally love CASA. When I'm done with family social work, I have every intention of becoming a CASA volunteer. These people do a lot of what I do, but without pay. (Many people would argue that I practically work for free as well, but that's not the point...) Their job is to learn EVERY aspect of the case, often getting information from teachers, therapists, parents, foster parents... anyone who knows these kids. They typically visit the kids a few times a month and then advocate for them in court. One of the volunteers said something that really resonated with me... a CASA's mission is to speak for those who can't speak for themselves. They are truly selfless, incredible people and I appreciate everything they do for our children.

Currently, I have 34 kids ranging from 3 months old to 18 years old. One thing I love about this job is that each day is a new adventure. My good friend Allison (who is way more brave than me and works for CPS) summed it up pretty well in her latest blog post: Thank Goodness I Work With Social Workers. The life of a social worker can be rough. When I tell people I'm a social worker, I typically get one of two responses: "Oh, I could never do that." or "Ohhhh, so you take people's kids away."

Ahem.

The last response is my favorite. Most often, it's said with a tone of voice that is NOT supportive or encouraging, but rude and accusing. I went through four years of school to be a social worker and NEVER did I encounter a fellow social work student who chose this profession because they wanted to "take people's kids away." We never wake up in the morning and think, "Gee, I wonder how many kids I'll have the privilege of removing today!" Now, I am not currently in a position where I actually remove children from their homes. I come in shortly after children are removed and work with the parents on what they need to do to get their kids back. My mission is to reunite children with their parents. That's everyone's goal in each case. We're not evil people who find joy in removing children and never giving them back. We do EVERYTHING we can possibly do to make things safe for the child and to get them back with their parents. I often teach parenting education, budgeting, hygiene, coping techniques, stress management, and I support/encourage them in their sobriety efforts. I empower them and advocate for them when needed. There is such a negative stigma surrounding the social work profession, especially when people like Terry Sturgis come into the picture. Truth is, hundreds of kids each year die from child abuse. It's a sad reality, especially when you consider that it could have been prevented. However, it would be nice to also consider the number of kids who have been saved from these tragedies as a result of DCS and other service providers stepping in and removing children from potentially harmful situations. There are currently 34 kids who are depending on me to try and make their lives better, because they can't possibly do it themselves.

No pressure.

Honestly though, I absolutely love what God has given me the opportunity to do. I'm so incredibly passionate about social work. I have the utmost respect for everyone in this profession and enjoy the connection we all have to each other. It doesn't matter where we work or which population/issue we specialize in, all social workers have this bond just because we can all relate to each other. We lift each other up and provide support and encouragement when no one else can empathize with what we're dealing with. We may not have capes or supernatural powers, but in my mind (and in the minds of the children we serve), social workers are superheroes.

Baby, You're a Firework

Most days, my job is fairly rewarding and not too depressing. For those who don't know, I am a social worker. I work for a company that is affiliated with DCS. We provide supervised visitation and case management for families who have had their children removed or are at risk for having their children removed. The main chunk of my hours are spent in supervised visitation, where I transport children from their foster/relative placements to see their biological parents. I have to supervise/observe their every move to make sure parents/children are interacting appropriately.

I've got one case I've been doing visits with for about 6 months. I've grown relatively attached to these kids and am probably a bit harder on their bio parents because of it. I want the absolute best for the children and sometimes you just know that upon reunification, the kids are being sent home because the situation is "good enough"... NOT the absolute best. Regardless, these kids will probably be reunified with their parent in the next few months and we all just have to make the best of it.

One of the kids' birthday was Friday. We had a visit on Thursday and celebrated at that visit. Her dad and grandpa came and brought her gifts and cake and all the kids got Happy Meals. The girl got exactly what she wanted for her birthday and enjoyed about 5 minutes of attention from her family. After that, her grandpa left and her dad went to play with her brothers. No singing Happy Birthday, no big show of blowing out the candles... I'm not even sure if anyone really "wished" her a Happy Birthday. Basically, it was like... Hey, here's your presents, I'm going to go do something else now. No matter how many times she begged her family to play with her and her new toys, the answer was always, "in a minute" or "we're busy right now." I tried to make a point to interact with her because I knew she was disappointed that they were supposed to be celebrating her birthday and no one was paying attention to her. However, regardless of how much attention I gave her, it was not the same as the attention she craved and deserved from her father and brothers.

This made me think back to all the birthdays my brothers and I have had... regardless of what was going on in our family, we were ALWAYS given special treatment for our birthdays. Our parents made it a point to let us know that they were thankful for our existence and that we were loved beyond measure. I woke up to a hand-written poster on my door wishing me a Happy Birthday every year. We always got to pick what we wanted for dinner and what kind of cake/ice cream we wanted. We ALWAYS sing Happy Birthday and were fortunate enough to be able to have birthday parties with friends when we wanted.

This girl turned 10 on Friday. I honestly can't remember what I did for my 10th birthday, but I KNOW that it was special. Every birthday was, even if I didn't appreciate it at the time. However, seeing the alternative and knowing the pain and hurt this girl was feeling, I can now appreciate every attempt my parents have ever made at making me feel like I was wanted and that I was delighted in.

This girl and I can relate to each other fairly easily because we both have two younger brothers. I remember feeling left out when my brothers played together, so most of the time I tried to join them... I had my own set of Pokemon cards, I tried to keep up with them in sports, and I watched wrestling and Cartoon Network with them on a nightly basis. My brothers have always been pretty good about letting me be part of whatever they're doing (well, as far as I can remember), but it's obviously not the same as having a sister to hang out with. Thankfully, I have a mother who paid attention to me and made me feel that I belonged. This girl doesn't have that.

After the visit was over, it was clear that the girl was disappointed in her birthday "celebration." Sometimes when the kids are good, I let them pick out songs to listen to on the trip back to their foster home. This time, I let the girl pick all the songs. The last song we listened to was "Firework" by Katy Perry. This is the girl's favorite song and although she doesn't know all the words, she sings the chorus as loud as she possibly can. Normally, this is distracting and annoying. This time, I let her sing her lungs out.

It brought new meaning to the song... All my life, I've had friends and family telling me that I  am special and that I'm wanted. She is not that privileged. Katy Perry is probably one of the only people telling her that she is worth it. I know how hard it was being a girl throughout my preteen/adolescent years and even now as a young woman how difficult it is when there are so many negative messages that society likes to throw at us... Thankfully, I've had several positive influences in my life who have guided me along the right path. I pray often that a strong, positive female influence will come into this little girl's life and let her know how special she is and how much she is loved. I want her to know that her life is so precious and that she is worth it. I want her to know that she is a "firework."

"God bless you."

This past weekend, I hosted a nice little pity party for myself. Sorry if you weren't invited, but you didn't miss much... I left the party every once in awhile to get out and live, but in the end, I kept going back to this party. It consumed my life... I wasted so much time being in this funk. I was hoping to wake up Monday morning and be done with it as if it was just a 48 hour bug and then it would be over. Unfortunately, this was not the case. 


I stayed up way too late Sunday night and got up way too early Monday morning, so I already started off on the wrong foot. I had a couple appointments scheduled for work and  my second appointment was in Elkhart. I pulled up to this beautiful house with a nice minivan and a Jaguar out front... this is NOT a typical home visit. I enter the home, which has amazing furnishings, the biggest TV I've ever seen in my life, and pictures of sweet, beautiful children all around. I sit down with this mom who had her children removed about a month ago as she goes through her story and cries and begs that I do something to help her. I reassure that I will do everything I can do and ask that cooperates with services as well. As I leave, having comforted the woman as much as I could, she thanks me and says, "God bless you."

As I was driving back to South Bend from Elkhart, I'm considering this case and wondering how much of what mom has just told me is true. I played her story over and over in my mind, praying for the family and exploring her service options. As I was getting ready to throw myself into solving every single one of her problems, my own issues came back and my pity party began again. God has a sense of humor. 

For most of my life, I've coped with my problems by keeping myself busy. I throw my entire self into helping others and doing other projects so that I don't have to think about the things that are bothering me. It's just easier that way. I'll get to my own stuff when I have time... which ends up being never. However, in this moment of trying to focus on someone else's problems, I was severely hit with my own. I couldn't think about anything else. 

I was listening to MercyMe throughout my trip and the song "Beautiful" came on in the midst of my party. 

Amen. As I was listening to the song, I was immediately able to shift my thoughts to praise and prayer. I asked God to take over because I knew this was not something I would be able to overcome on my own. As I was driving and praying and genuinely fighting these annoying emotions, I felt this OVERWHELMING sense of joy. Like, literally, God drew a smile on my face and it stayed there the rest of the day. I felt refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready to go. It was a MAJOR change to my demeanor. I mean, I definitely don't doubt that God works in crazy ways, but this was beyond what I ever could have imagined... I mean, my emotions were so lame and pathetic and there were SO many things going on at the moment with other people who were much more in need of grace, but He still chose to bring me through that dark moment in my life. I felt absolutely freed from the emotions that had become such a burden in the last few days. 


I had been blessed. Thank you, client. Thank you, God. 

Undeserving.

A few days ago, I was rear ended while transporting three children to a visit with a parent. While the actual accident itself is kind of a blur, I definitely remember the kids reactions and their strength and bravery throughout the whole process. Although they were terrified and upset, their main worries were all about each other and me and my car. They definitely had their fears and pain, but the majority of the questions they asked while in the ambulance were regarding my own well-being. These are such young kids but they've been through so much in their lives and are so used to taking care of everyone else but themselves. I had to continually ask these kids to focus on themselves and how they were feeling rather than how I was feeling. I showed no outward emotion as we travelled to the hospital, but I am pretty positive I was a mess on the inside.

Two of the kids were strapped down on stretchers because of the severity of the accident and their pain complaints. The officers kept telling me that the kids were most likely in shock and that after travelling a few minutes to the hospital, they would probably start screaming. I tried emotionally preparing myself for this while also having to make numerous phone calls. The youngest, a six-year-old boy, was on a stretcher right next to me and I held his hand the entire trip. I honestly don't know who was more comforted by that, me or him. The kids gradually began talking more throughout the trip, and by the time we got to the emergency room, they were much more calm and collected. I'm glad someone was.

We all had to be checked out in the exam room, which was actually a pretty smooth process. Within a couple hours we were all waiting for discharge paperwork. The kids were all fine and had been given stickers and stuffed animals, so they were good to go. I knew I wasn't with it when we were all discharged from the hospital, but I also felt like I needed to this strong, brave person like my kids had been. Thankfully, my own parents saw through that and realized I was not in any position to drive myself home or be alone that night. My mom took me home and I just kinda floated around the house, eating dinner and watching TV. I eventually took my stuff up to my room and sat at my computer desk, finally giving myself the chance to think about what had happened. For the first time all day I started taking my own advice and considering my own well-being instead of the kids'. I looked at the scratch on my neck (which is totally not a big deal at all), thought back to the images of looking in my rearview mirror and realizing the guy behind me was not slowing down, but being completely powerless in the situation, and accepting the fact that I may actually have to begin the whole car shopping process again. I had a nice little breakdown, but then got back up and continued on about my night.

The next day, I felt like I was okay. I talked to the kids on the phone in the morning and they all reassured me that they were fine. One of the boys has a cut under his nose and the girl has a bump on the back of her head. The other boy was completely unharmed. I started getting the calls from insurance companies and the officers at the scene, wanting to finish all their reports. I gave my statement numerous times and answered ridiculous numbers of questions. I got a call from the body shop saying my car had arrived and that I could go get all my stuff out of it. My mom and I met my dad at the shop and went and looked at the car together. When we first arrived, my insurance adjuster was already there. He hadn't gotten a chance to really look at it yet, but he said from what he did see, the car was a total loss. I had kind of already figured that, but didn't fully grasp what he was saying until we went out to the car.

Hello, World.

The other guy was nice enough to leave the decal from his car...

This is what you see from the outside... back window shattered, back end completely smashed in, everything in the trunk ruined... and then there's the inside:

It's as if nothing ever happened. The backseat and front seats are perfect. The entire back window was gone, but there was virtually no glass in the back seat. All the stuff I had in the trunk, everything that was right up against the back seat was smashed and unusable, but the seats themselves were untouched.

Hello, God.

As the guys from the body shop looked at it and joked about giving me credit for being upright and walking and then also joking about whether I got hit by an SUV or a semi, I finally realized that something WAY bigger than than this whole situation had definitely intervened. I had been praising God right after the accident and at the hospital and all night, thanking Him for what could have been a much worse situation... but standing there next to the car and actually seeing the damage... I was humbled. I was in shock and awe all over again. I had images in my head of God literally holding on to these kids during the accident... of Him placing Himself in between the SUV and the backseat, catching all the glass before it hit the kids. Oh, how He loves...

After we left the body shop, I believe I was still in shock. I went about my day, just going through the motions. That night, we had something called Night of Worship at the church. This is something I had looked forward to all week. I hadn't told many people about the accident and wasn't really sure how I was going to bring it up. Some people noticed the scratch on my neck and others noticed that I wasn't driving my car. I explained the situation, showed the pictures, and saw as others were amazed as well.

Once NOW began, I tried focusing my thoughts on God and praising Him for this miracle. As we sang, I just had an overwhelming feeling of being "grounded." God does this to me a lot... He knows I need it. I sometimes get so wrapped up in the world and not into God. I recognized that God had done great things in this accident, but did not full understand... God made sure I knew before I left that church. Through the worship and the ministry time, I realized how undeserving I was of God's grace. I mean, none of us are deserving of what God so generously gives, but I easily could have died in the accident. There are so many things that could have gone terribly wrong. I then began to wonder why God decided to save me... what have I done that God decided He wanted to keep me around? Again, I was humbled. If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking. I really can't even describe God's encounter last night at the church. However, He brought me back down to where I needed to be. For the first time since the accident, I was able to feel things... emotions, pain... I was no longer on this high horse of "I'm so special because I made it through this accident." God is special. God brought me through this accident. It had nothing to do with me. I was powerless in the whole situation. I can't take any credit for ANYTHING that was done that day. All glory and honor goes to God, the only One who is deserving of such things.

Hold On To Me...

This song is my prayer right now... 

So many things are going on in my life: lots of transitions, people coming in and out, and overwhelming emotions that are absolutely draining. Thank God for His grace. My heart just hurts... there's no better way to explain that. God has been rocking my world lately in so many good ways and I know I'm coming under attack because of it. I'm considering/thinking things that I never have before. I need God's strength to get through this. He's been so faithful and I know He won't give me more than I can handle... I just feel so broken. This is not a common thing for me. I'm a strong person generally... God likes to remind me that I need him and I'm grateful for that, but I hate feeling this sad for reasons that don't typically bring me down. 

When I call on the Holy Spirit, God typically gives me a sense of being held. Like, literally if I feel like my heart is in a million pieces, the Holy Spirit comes and holds it together. I have this feeling of wholeness that is unlike any other. It's my "rest" when I'm feeling weary and burdened (Matthew 11:28). 

Like the song says, my faith is tired tonight. I'm spiritually and emotionally drained. Essentially, I've got a busted heart. Thankfully, God will meet me where I am and guide me through this. I'll surrender tonight. 

"I"m screaming out your name, 

don't let me fall on my face. 

I've got a busted heart, 

I'm in need of a change; 

Yeah, I'm desperate for grace."

That is my plan for the night. I know God will hold on to me and not let me lose my way. No matter how many times I break His heart, He'll never let me go. Praise Him. 

Hello, World.

Every time I watch this video, I have the same response: Hello, World. Imagine that! Seriously, though... it completely brings me back to Earth. Sometimes I like to live in my own little world for awhile. I don't usually have emotions in my world. It's just easier that way. Then, I hear this song and all the emotions come running back. I'm hit with these overwhelming feelings of wanting to change the world... then, I run and hide again once the song is over. I don't want to feel the emotions of this world. It's sad and depressing. Thankfully, God is good. He understands my feelings, yet challenges me every day to go beyond my comfort zone to serve Him. He's never given me more than I can handle.

"Sometimes I feel cold as steel, broken like I'm never gonna heal." In my line of work, it's easy to become cold and jaded to what's happening in the world. Instead of having compassion for people, it's so easy to be critical and judgmental. With the people I see on a daily basis, it's sometimes hard to see the progress and potential in their situations. As much as I want to strangle these parents and scream at them for what they've put their kids through... I know it's not my place. All I can do is try and empower them to make the changes for themselves.

"I see a light, a little hope in a little girl." It's absolutely amazing to see the children that these parents produce. I've had angels and I've had others... however, each one is so wonderful and unique. Even my worst behaved children have been some of the sweetest, most loving kids. I see the pain and tragedy they have to constantly endure. Most grown adults would run and hide from some of the things my kids have to deal with. Despite everything they've been through, they have so much love and faith that everything is going to be okay. Sometimes they need a punching bag, sometimes they need a hug... my favorite part of the job is being able to be whatever they need me to be. God gave me a gift of patience with these children that I certainly don't have with most people.

"Well the empty disappears, I remember why I'm here; just surrender and believe, I fall down on my knees... Hello, World." I don't see how someone can be a social worker and not have faith in God. Without Him, this job would be hell. It's so comforting to know at the end of the day, no matter how horrible it may have been, God is here. God is in control and He is ultimately the one taking care of my kids. Although I often feel personally responsible for their well-being, I know my God can provide more than I will ever be able to for these children. How amazing is that? So many times, I just want to hold them and cry with them... but I know God has it under control and that He will work all things for their good. Although I may not be with the kids long enough to see it, I know He will put others in their lives who will lift them up and care for them as much as I do.

God has given me a calling and a purpose in life: to help those who cannot help themselves. This comes in many forms, but most often it's found in these children. They are literally incapable of standing up for themselves or even knowing what's in their best interest. Thankfully, God knows what's best for them and puts people in their lives who will advocate for that. I'm so humbled that God has allowed me to be one of those people. God also gives me the strength and wisdom to endure these situations on a daily basis and for that, I'm eternally grateful.