Thanks, Olive. I don’t do it anymore at that level. I quit when I was 40 because I was getting burned out and it was harder and harder to remember that the world had more in it than abject misery and people so damaged that they couldn’t function anymore. Now I serve on boards, work on political campaigns that are to their benefit and help raise money by grantwriting but leave the direct services to the new generation of staff.
It felt more like a privilege than an obligation, although at the beginning my social justice ideals motivated me to start a shelter and services as much as compassion did. Things about our society really bothered and upset me and I couldn’t do anything to change them at a big level but at least I had an opportunity to do something that was right in front of me. I know I got as much out of it as I put in, if not more. I’m not a social worker - I was an activist and then an Executive Director. I was always a bit in awe of the licensed social workers and mental health workers because they worked with the most difficult clients on a long-term personal level in a way that produced major changes. I don’t think I have the patience for that. I was more like the house mother in an open air asylum straight out of “King of Hearts”. I remember one night as I was leaving to go home one of the little kids asked why I didn’t sleep there because “you’re the mom, aren’t you?”
I never got homesick. For a few summers I was away for six weeks at a time. My mom would cry as she hugged me goodbye and I would think “Why? In just six short weeks I’ll be back in that miserable place.” I took traveling in a matter-of-fact manner. Some friends couldn’t handle being away from home but I could blankly say “Welp, I’m going to be gone for a month, I’ll catch you all later.” and take off without much thought. Hell, the only reason I cried when I left for Japan was because my dad started to cry first.
I lived in a house, not a home. It was shelter from the cold and place where I could go for food and sleep. I never looked forward to going there so I held no emotional connections with it. I’m still discovering what a home feels like.
I hated making mistakes. I felt like I was the odd one out and that everyone was aware of me. Maybe that’s why I chose Japan. If I had to go somewhere, at least I could pick a place where I knew I was going to be out of place from the get-go. Mistakes were easier to make and it was easier to forgive myself. It was easier to let things go, I felt more like a carefree kid there than I ever did growing up back home.
Well, fortunately not everyone is startled when I can occasionally be intelligent. No, I know that it was the insight which was startling, not the person with the message, it just sounded funny when I first read it.
I’ve more often than not found myself much more an observer; constantly looking to see if I’m doing it right or wrong, but I must be getting less worried these days as I’ve stopped doing this as much.
For me it was my best friend’s family. They weren’t perfect- but that actually showed me normal looks like- she fought with her parents but it didn’t get horrible. She get in trouble but they didn’t reject her etc. I spent a lot of time at their house ( from 4th grade- end of high school) and they were sweet, nonjudgmental and loving to me.
No, I know that it was the insight which was startling, not the person with the message, it just sounded funny when I first read it.