Not too long ago I sat in a pub with a couple of friends. We were chatting about this, that and everything in between. Weirdly, the conversation turned to social workers. Now I can't remember how it started or what exactly was said, but needless to say my ears perked up.
What you may not know is that I am adopted. Thankfully, my parents have always been open about it. They answered the tough questions (why didn't my mom want me?) and the silly questions (did you have to pay for me?) and they've always been open about the people that helped them through the process. It can be quite invasive. There have been many times I've been out with mom or dad and we've run into my case worker, my foster mom, various social workers involved, the lawyers involved, the judge.... I think I've met everyone involved, except my birth parents.
One of my friends remarked that being a social worker was a thankless, terrible, dead end job, where the social workers felt they weren't actually accomplishing anything, all this via a friend's dad. The rage I felt at the comment was instantaneous and fiery. I actually had to bite my tongue to not verbally eviscerate my friend.
Keep listening I thought to myself.
Don't say anything you'll regret. I felt sick to my stomach and cold as I listened to the others join in. I couldn't take it anymore and I jumped in. I think I sneered. I never sneer. But my anger was growing and my temper (which can be formidable) wouldn't allow me not to. I told them they obviously didn't know what they were talking about. That I had been/was a part of the system and that as far as PEI went I had heard nothing but positive responses from the social workers that I had interacted with. That my aunt, who is a social worker, loved her job and was often found speaking about how she felt she was a part of something that accomplished good.
And then I went silent in my rage. I stared at my phone and texted my sister that I was having a moment. The conversation at the table in the pub slowly picked up. The subject changed to something completely different. I made no move to interact with anyone. I was still too angry. I was shaking. Never a good sign. I began to replay the conversation over in my head. And I realized I had to let it go. It didn't matter than my friends didn't see the good in social workers like I did. It didn't matter that my conversations throughout my growing up years all indicated that social work was a profession filled with positives and negatives (and yes, tough cases where children are removed from homes and families) but overall these men and women that worked in the field felt proud of their work.
It's been a couple of days and I still feel anger when I think of this conversation. I can't help but feel sorry for the people that are social workers who think and feel this horrible way. I guess I can see how it would feel thankless.
So, to anyone and everyone who is a social worker, works with them, is married to one, is a child of one, is a parent of one; I hope you know what a wonderful person they are. This person has a heart so big and filled with love that they are advocating for children who have no one else to advocate for them. Your loved one is a hero in my books. They saved
my life. They gave me my family. They talked to my teenage bio mom and calmed her fears. They helped dry her tears at giving me up for adoption. They held me to their chest and rocked me. They called my adoptive parents and shared the news that they were
finally going to be parents. They made my parents happier than they've ever been. They gifted me with a baby brother. They came for visits and had tea with us. They called to check on us.
They are the reason I exist as I do.
I have to apologize to my friend. Perhaps her friend's dad really didn't like his job. Maybe he only saw the negative and never got to see the wonderful things that I experienced growing up.
I ended up emailing my case worker the day after this happened. I thanked her for her work and everything she did for me and my family and all the other kids like me who she came into contact with. I've decided that thanks is the least I can give.
And maybe that's better than anything else.
I picked this book up on a whim after hearing several good recommendations. And so far it delivers. It flows so easily and without any effort I was halfway through it and had a hard time convincing myself that sleep was just as important as continuing the story. (Work always seems to get in the way of my reading.)