I should preface this with, I just poured my 3rd glass of wine. And it’s more than the recommended serving size.

So, today.
Let me tell you about today.
It wasn’t awful. All in all, it was a pretty good day. There’s a good chance I’ll be flexed on Friday, so I’ll be off work with pandemic pay or scrubbing toilets if they reassign me. Not my favorite past time, but hell you know what – toilets are just toilets and it won’t be the first time I scrubbed one. Might be nice to be able to not feel a fucking thing all day.

Anyway, today I went to see this person who needed to do a thing for health reasons and I was told this person didn’t want to do the thing and it was really not in this persons best interest to not do the thing. I’m being purposely vague here (it’s not the wine, I swear). So, they call me in because sometimes I’m lovely and convincing (and sometimes I’m a bitch, let’s be real). Before I go in, they have me completely convinced that this person doesn’t give a fuck about their health, is a complete asshat and all around dunce.

So, I go in an expect a fight. I expect to be yelled out. Maybe told off. Maybe bitched out or at. A million negative things. So I see some other folks before I see this person so that I can kind of get in the swing of things and not have my adrenaline pumping a thousand miles an hour and then I go in.

And I was reminded why I do what I do.
Why I chose social work.
Why I love what I do.
Why even on the shittiest fucking day, I pick back up and do it again.

It is a privilege to share space with folks.

I went in with some background information – mostly negative, some helpful. The most important thing was that this person didn’t feel heard.

So I went in and I gave this person space to share their story. Their perceptions, their version of things, what they wanted and needed.

And it turns out, this person wasn’t as asshat.

This person was lovely. This person didn’t feel like they understood what was happening to them. This person felt like people didn’t give a fuck. This person felt like they were lied to. This person was overwhelmed with life changes that they didn’t have a lot of control over. This person was lonely due to Covid restrictions. This person missed their family.

Literally the only thing I did was provide space for this person to say that what they needed and felt and wanted.

And it might work.

At the end of the day, I left them with – it’s up to you, if you have questions let me know and I will answer them tomorrow.

They were so, so fucking grateful. It’s amazing. It’s absolutely fucking amazing that people are so, so grateful for someone to share space with them without judgement. With empathy. I’m not a fucking saint. This isn’t tooting my own horn. There are a thousand people that I haven’t shared that space with – unintentionally mostly, I think.

It just makes me sad, and a little angry, to think that people think this person was so many things that they weren’t.

Tomorrow, they may not make the healthiest choices…but for today, they are my why.