Coming back stronger

Today I took the day off. I took a sick day. I didn't feel horrible, but then again not great, and everyone I've been around lately has been sick. I also spent the weekend doing a meditation retreat (wonderful!) and some of the folks in there had been sick, so I've definitely been exposed to the Cruddy flu and the Cruddly cold.
I spent much of the morning reading, petting the cats and enjoying watching the squirrels out the window along with the cats. I have a skylight in my room, which I will sorely miss when I move out of this house someday. A squirrel walked along the glass today, licking at the moisture with its little tongue. I stood right under it, looking right up at its little face and little paws, and it didn't even notice. It felt very funny and strange. I then went on a walk with the dog, enjoyed the sun, picked some weeds out of the garden. Now I am making soup and doing some laundry. What a nice day.

I feel I have a lot to write about, because I have been thinking a lot. Recently I've realized that I feel I have 2 lives, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way: I have my work week life, where I overextend, overexert and ultimately, exhaust myself. I come home at the day's end- drained. My recent history would have surely been devoid of home cooked meals on a weeknight if it weren't for my gourmet cook of a boyfriend. But anyway, the other life is my weekend life, when I recover. that is time to socialize, do housework, sleep in, eat well, make art and exercize. Suddenly the weekend ends, and there I am, back at my desk, slurping down coffee while I answer the phone, type on my computer and pantomime to people walking into my office simultaneously.

We have systems in place to check ourselves. We are stressed and we get sick. It always happens. Many of my stresses and struggles make themselves known while I am sleeping, perhaps because I am so determined in my awake life that I often deny that anything is bothering me until it is much to late. So, for the past several months, I've been clenching my jaw in my sleep and biting my teeth together while dreaming about horridly unpleasant things. In December-a horrible nightmare that I was in a burning building, sent in there as the person meant to "help" everyone and get them out, but no one would listen, I completely lost my patience and began yelling and panicked because I knew everyone would die and it was all my fault for not helping. I woke up in a sweat, screaming and tearing the blankets off of myself. This was when I really realized that something is very wrong and have been trying to figure out what to do since.

So, I like to consider the material in that dream along with what I do for a living. They are quite similar. I work with kids who are very ill in a system that is even more ill than they are. In my job title, I "direct their therapeutic treatment", I also read their histories, make assessments, I give recommendations, I also work closely with other care professionals and their family members. A lot of times people don't listen to recommendations, and then sometimes I wonder if I'm right anyway because everything is so complicated.
It kind of feels like I'm running through a fire, trying to get people to listen to me, and feeling dramatically devastated when they don't.

Social work. While in school, so many people told me how hard this field is, how so many people burn out and I figured that I am above that and strong enough to handle it. I wanted to be a social worker to spend energy in my life serving others. One of my favorite teachers from graduate school, scott winn, stated that one of the things he finds so meaningful about those who practice social work is that when we see suffering, we move towards it rather than away from it. And do we ever, but then what? I don't doubt that through my work thus far, people have been heard, people have been helped. But it is becoming very clear to me that many of us practicing this work suffer as well. It doesn't help that this work is grossly undervalued, we tell ourselves that the rewards are spiritual rather than financial, but my landlord likely won't accept a story about a child we helped in exchange for my rent. Social work is undervalued because of the nature of our society, but still teachers and other people in similar fields get more pay and tend to be more highly regarded (and get tons of time off! But I digress...). Perhaps part of the reason social work is treated in this way is because we are working with those that no one wants to think about, much less deal with: the homeless, the sick, the elderly, the abused, the abusers, all of them. No one wants to think about these people. So turn on your tv and watch the new episode of Lost. I may be zombified and watching it with you.

Still, the rewards of the work ARE spiritual. Despite all of the stress and frustration, I love what I do. It is intersting and challenging and I sincerely enjoy my co-workers. I never go home and think "wow, that was meaningless. there is no point to this." Rather, I just go home and think "wow, I am completely and utterly drained" and find it hard to focus on anything else besides work. How Boring. Part of it is the intensity of the work material, but part of the exhaustion stems from the multi-tasking, the phone calls, the blaring computer screen, and just the busy-ness of it all. Ahh, the American Dream.

I've been interested in and studying yoga and Buddhism for a few years now- thinking about Ahimsa, or non-harming, about compassion and having a peaceful and meaningful life. I have a great workplace for really putting this ideas into action, really challenging myself. Wanna practice compassion? Sure, you can be compassionate with people you like, but what about people who have harmed a child who you are trying to help to heal? That is very, very hard.

Recently, it occurred to me as I sat with one of my oldest friends and her newborn baby, that I don't have anything in my life, that is truly MINE, that is more valued to me than my work. My self identity is tied into my career and my outside-of-work life suffers greatly. As a result, I don't get much of a break. So, what do I value the most? -the people in my life, a spiritual practice, working on art that is fun and colorful. Those are the things I continually come back to.

This weekend was a meditation retreat with my teachers whom I have been studying with for one year now. We sat for a LOOOONG time on Saturday and so many things happened just while I sat there on the cushion. I encountered a lot of irritability, frustration, discomfort, sadness and anger. I fidgeted, my leg fell asleep, my breath became quick and agitated, I sometimes opened my eye a bit and tried to will my teacher into ringing the bell so I could Just Stop. It was very, very difficult. Through the teachings, we learn to be with those feelings, to go towards them, rather than moving away from unpleasant sensations (kind of like social work!). Oh man and that is a LOT easier said than done. I got home, felt drained and sad,cried a bit and then went to sleep. And I slept like a baby. For the first time in months, I woke up and my face didn't hurt from jaw clenching. I had really been resting and recovering while I was asleep. I had been working out my tension on my meditation cushion rather than in my sleep, the time when we should really be recovering. There are universes in these lessons and so many reasons to sit with yourself and not deny what comes up. And, like Krisna Das says, each time you come back to yoga, you come back stronger. Well, I never felt like I really left, but I'm definitely here and trying harder than ever.

Namaste.