Finding Balance

Balance is not the easiest thing in life to achieve. I realized yesterday, after I spent the majority of my morning crying (and eating most of a frozen pizza) that my life was out of balance. I continued on my way, upset, but glad for a night off and bible study with a group of close friends. I continued to think about balance. I had a nap last night, and wound up waking up before 5AM. I decided I'd go to morning yoga.

This morning's yoga was what is referred to as a "flow" class, meaning it's more fast paced and a lot of things are joined together, and of course, being a hot yoga studio, it's in a hot room. So I went, and I sweat, and a tried to just let go. Not only is my life out of balance, but my body seemed completely out of balance too, I couldn't stand on one leg no matter how hard I tried. After yoga I decided I wanted to go to Starbucks, and walking there in back in the crisp air, the sun beginning to rise, I had a revelation.

My life doesn't have to be out of balance, and I am NOT falling apart. Things are bad at work right now, but that is just one aspect of my life and a very small part of my journey. Besides that, things are not always bad at work, and I am the only one who can change my reactions to things. Other parts of my life are going well, sometimes it seems overwhelming, but everything will get done. I will keep an eye out for new jobs (I applied for one yesterday), but it's not a rush, it doesn't have to happened today, tomorrow, or even next week.

The enforcer keeps his life in balance by dictating order and having discipline. He needs a hierarchy, chain of command and things to be exactly right in order for him to feel balanced. I need something different. My life seems more balanced when all my relationships and human interactions are going well, including my relationships with my coworkers. The enforcer has a hard time with me because I sway his balance. I want to be inclusive, to share work around, and he feels he needs to tell everyone exactly what they need to do. He sways my balance because he takes all my power away, and this leads me to feel at odds with him.

I like my job. I like the people in the shelter, and for the most part I like my coworkers. That being said, I have absolutely no intention of trusting any of them for a while. Which is hard. But, I have to remember also that there are different kinds and levels of trust, and while I may trust them to have my back, I don't have to trust them with information about this situation. It's going to be hard, but I am going to work on shutting my mouth and simply letting the enforcer make all the decisions when he is coordinating. No more will I say to ccf "do you want to do trip A or trip B, because the enforcer will simply tell us who has to do what. As I've said before though, he is not always the coordinator when I am on, and I think I am just going to have to deal with our different work styles when he is. Since he said very plainly he's not going to change, I am going to have to adjust my style if I want to keep doing my job.

And so, life will continue, and so will homelessness. I'm sure I will move on from this job far before the enforcer will, and so, when it comes to retirement and I look back on my life, he will only be a small blip on my radar, a lesson learned, a story to tell my students and a distant memory.

bad bad bad

The meeting this morning did not go well... and while I don't think the enforcer will actually try and sue me for slander and libel, well, he did put it out there. He says I'm trying to be the coordinator and tries to claim the incident never happened, that I've constructed a giant plot against him and that his gut, which has never been wrong, is telling him I have ulterior motives and a huge plan. Besides that, at least two of the people I trusted to talk this situation out with told the enforcer exactly what I said. And I can't for the life of me figure out which ones. Basically, I'm looking for a new job. We'll see... we'll see.

the usual

I've been trying to think of a good post, and a few are in the works, but nothing has stood out as really amazing. I wanted to write something though. So you get this.

I find it amazing that my job can be boring. I see different people and encounter different situations every single day (night). And yet, at this point things seem to have fallen into a pattern. It's nice really. It's good not to have crazy situations everyday. And yet when I think about it, the crazy stuff is still happening, it's just not, well, as crazy seeming. I think this is good, but also kind of sad, because it means the novelty has sort of worn off. I don't want to become complacent...

Sad moment of the morning though. I was searching a client prior to entry to the building because someone informed us she was carrying a weapon (they later admitted to making it up) and I felt her baby bump. She's five months pregnant, and living on the streets. If she and her boyfriend don't find a place, the baby will be apprehended at birth. We do not have shelter children. I referred her to our transition team, and hopefully someone can help them out with housing and welfare and stuff, but wow, the pressure of all that, and being pregnant and sleeping on a shelter mat. That really, really sucks. We don't even have beds. Did a couple other referrals, but they seem to like staying here, although I really don't know why. And while I don't like to assume the worst, who knows what substances she's been using while pregnant, it's just an all over crappy situation.

sometimes we get what we want (and realize we're not sure we want it)

So after a lot of heart searching a consulting with a couple colleagues I trust, I decided I would talk to my boss about what happened, and what's been going with, the enforcer. It was hard, harder then I thought it would be. I discovered there's a blank space in my memory of the event, which kind of freaks me out. I don't remember how it ended. I remember being in the corner being yelled at, and I remember being on the phone, getting ready to pick up donations. I don't remember getting up, or the argument stopping.

Anyway, my boss says we have to all get together and talk. Which is of course, what I expected. However, now that it's happening, I'm less then enthused. It doesn't help that I'm hearing from other staff that they've tried to deal with the enforcer and nothing has changed. All that will happen is my boss is going to try and make him listen to my side of things, and then make me listen to his. And I need to of course try and get through this without crying.

My boss basically said well, this is what the enforcer is like. Well, you know what, that doesn't make it right! I don't care if it's him being him. That's like when I got told "boys will be boys" when I was being bullied in middle school. The bullies aren't supposed to win. You know what it is though, is seniority with the union, management can't touch him unless they have an incredibly good reason. And if anything happens, it's going to be me who winds up having to change shifts, something I don't want to have to do.

I think the worst part of this is, we're not going to meet until next Tuesday morning (because of the weekend and the fact that the enforcer and I have only 3 days on together not 5 (I work his days off and he works mine). But, my boss is phoning him today to give him notice for the meeting. That means i have minimum three shifts (probably four) during which I have to work with him, knowing we have to do this later.

I'm going to be honest right now, I mean if I can't be honest in my blog, where can I be honest, and say that this is really upsetting me. And honestly, I'm upset and embarrassed that it's getting to me. I'm crying more, about other things too, I'm grumpy and cranky, I'm tired all the time, and going to work just isn't good anymore when I know he's going to be there. I have to deal with this one way or another, and I'm glad I spoke up, but wow, I feel like total crap. I'm sick of crying, I'm sick of feeling like crap. I thought once all the changes in my life were done things would level off for me, but then this happens and things seem to get even worse. I will get through this, but what will it cost me verses what will I gain!?

the body in the shelter

At about five to six we turn on the lights and wake everyone in the shelter up. It's early, but we open again at seven after a cleaning. If people don't wake up, we have to go around and wake them up. Saturday morning, someone didn't wake up.

A colleague of mine, my capitalist catholic friend (who shall from now on in my blog be referred to as "ccf"), called down to me in the drunk tank "there's a dead body up here". Needless to say, I didn't believe him. Ccf has a tendency to tease me, calling me the little sister he never had. Eventually though, he got me upstairs.

The body in the shelter was very dead. The man had likely died hours earlier. The body was in rigor mortise, and his skin was cold. I checked his breathing one more time, as my supervisor was on the phone with the police/ambulance. The ambulance came, but thankfully, they did not try to resuscitate him. Then the police. Then they had to wake up a medical examiner, then arrange transport. All the while our clients are stuck outside.

I've never found a body before, never been so close, never checked for life that wasn't there. I had nightmares that morning.

What shocked us all, was when we opened his client file. This was a man who had been sleeping at our shelter every night for quite some time, and we had NOTHING on him. No next of kin, no medical conditions, no identifying things at all. And as we talked, amongst ourselves, and with members of other shifts, we came to realize that no one knew him. We had all had contact with him, but none of us really knew him at all. The clients didn't seem to know him either.

Talking to the police, and my coworkers, we are all glad he had the death he did, surrounded by people in the place he spent his nights. He died before the cold of winter, he died peacefully in his sleep, he died without painful intervention, without prolonged illness.

He was only 57. Being homeless ages you like nothing else.

update on the dreamer

Time for an update on me, my life, and my cat. In brief, things are going well, however, that's not a real update, so I will elaborate slightly.

I haven't decided what to do about the enforcer. Thank you all for your supportive comments and thoughts. I looked into our respectful workplace policy, and our harassment policies, and talked to some coworkers. For now, I think I'm going to document, and hold my tongue. I've been the type to rush into things, and this, I want to do properly, and without haste. If I make a complaint, I want it to be for the right reasons and have enough documentation to show a pattern of behaviour.

Yoga is going very well. I feel SO awesome. I'm starting to notice myself doing things like standing up straighter and slouching less. Sometimes it's REALLY hard to make myself stay awake and go, but it really is worth it. I've set some goals, but only in terms of class attendance, once I'm there, I let my body be the guide.

The Sophie Cat is just amazing. Right now she's lying beside me being a "purry motor". She's lost over 10% of her body weight and it's made a huge difference. When bestest bud brings her camera over I'll take some pictures for the blog, or maybe I'll just buy a camera. Either way, pictures will happen soon. She's started running around, and playing with me and by herself. She no longer lives in my closet and under the couch, I'll come home and find her sitting on her pillow in the sun, or waiting for me on the mat by the door. She sleeps with me everyday, managing to hog most of the bed. I love her!

Church is going well too. I've been looking after an 11 month old every other week during the service, and she's so cute! She's my little dose of innocence. We walk, and play, and cuddle, and it reminds me of all the good in the world and how awesome God is. I've also been going to a really great Bible study, which has been really helpful in getting me out of the house and focusing on God.

So that's my life in a nutshell. Nothing too exciting, but not too boring either! Time for Sophie and I to curl up in a sunbeam and go to sleep!

Namaste

confidentiality

Confidentiality. All through school I've had it drilled into me. Confidentiality, confidentiality, confidentiality. And when are the times you can break confidentiality?

- Threat of harm to self
- Threat of harm to others
- Abuse of a child

And that's it. You can't just go around breaking people's confidentiality for other reasons. This is where the enforcer and I disagree.

The situation is this. We have someone in detox who may know some more details about how a woman died (I wrote about her a few entries ago, she was found on the street, gone). It may be that someone pushed her down the steps. During his detox intake he disclosed it to the worker (we're called "crisis workers") who shared it in shift change.

Now the enforcer seems to think that we have a duty to report this to the police and I disagree. I say we have to respect people's confidentiality and that all we can do is encourage this person to report it.

Unfortunately, that is not what came out of my mouth though, and here's where I created my entire problem which lead to our entire fight, and I should have known better. I said something like, "as I social worker the only time I can break confidentiality is - see above". This is when the lecture started. The lecture about how I'm not a social worker I'm a crisis worker, and I can't say I'm a social worker while I'm working because I'm not. I say I'm I social worker wherever I am. That I am a registered social worker and breaking people's confidentiality like that could make me lose my registration with my professional institute.

The enforcer starts getting really mad, tells me that it doesn't matter. That I have to follow agency policy, which is to report things (since when?), and that I'll be prosecuted if I don't. He has me cornered, yelling at me, and my supervisor (who I love) jumps into it too, telling me I'm not a social worker there and I have to follow policy. The enforcer won't let me speak, keeps telling me I'm interrupting, so I let him have his thing. Then when I want to have a turn, he won't let me speak, and goes on about how hard I am to work with. This is when I exit to go the bathroom and cry.

When I'm semi calmed down, I go back upstairs and say "Okay, I'm taking into consideration what you said, I'll talk to our boss and my professional institute and work this out. I'm new at this whole social work thing, and still have a lot to work out". I go about my work, getting on my knees to fill up some sugar. The enforcer stands over and yells some more. I keep crying and remind him "I don't want to talk about it". "Why would you want to talk to our boss, don't talk to him". I tell the enforcer that if that's the policy I'll quit, because one job is not worth losing my registration over, and then the enforcer, my supervisor and I get into it again. I'm basically ready to quit my job on the spot, except it still seems like a really far fetched policy, and well, I like my job. a lot. So I leave. But just to go pick up some donations. It takes me an hour of driving, a clonazepam (klonopin) and some yoga breathing in a random parking lot, but by the time I come back, I'm actually mostly calmed down.

In the morning, I talk to my boss about it, first thing. Not the fight exactly, just what the policy is. Turns out, the policy is exactly what I wrote at the very beginning. My boss says "we're not the justice system, we'll never have any trust with these clients if we tried to be". So I was right, but it really doesn't feel very good at all, and I'm not planning on telling the enforcer that, why bother. I want to sit down with him and talk it out, but I don't think it's going to happen, at least not yet.

A collegue got to work the next day and already knew about our fight, how, they'd run into each other and the enforcer mentioned "I made still dreaming cry last night". Oh, so this is a point of bragging now? If I didn't love my job...

tear off a piece of me

I got in a huge fight with the enforcer today. The kind where I wound up running to the bathroom and crying. NOT a good thing. I'm not sure I'm ready to write about it, although I will. I had so many posts planned out in my head, but now I'm just not sure. I'm not even really sure what happened, or if either of us was actually right. I'm really upset though, and really not sure how I'm going to keep working with him. Apparently I'm "hard to work with".

sad story

We have some frequent fliers in the drunk tank. They're people who wind up there time and time again. Some of them are shelter goers, street people, people who've gone through detox and treatment many, many times, and some of them aren't. It's a lot harder to get to know the ones who aren't, because the only contact I have is when they're discharging. I heard something a few nights ago though which really touched me.

There was a frequent flier in one cell and beside her a girl who I'm sure will quickly become a regular if things don't change. The two got to talking, which at least kept them from harassing me each time I walked by. As I listened to their conversation it gave me incite into some of the things they're dealing with and facing.

The first woman began to speak of her daughter, and how proud she was of her. Her daughter was eight she said, and most importantly to her, she had never laid a hand on her. To her this was the most important sign of a good mother, no physical abuse. She then began to reveal her own history of abuse and how much she had struggled as a child. The girl beside her in turn began to reveal her own history of abuse at the hands of her parents.

While it doesn't excuse the fact that these two women were drunk, disorderly, and a potential danger to themselves and others, it gave me incite into why it is that they were drinking so much on a regular basis. Fascinating. I have in mind to do a post about the different kinds of people who see in the drunk tank and then further analysis each sub group, but not today... today, i need to sleep!

like little children

An ongoing conversation among the staff at work is the fact that in many ways we feel like we are working in a daycare though we are in fact working with adults. There are many reasons for this, but in some cases it is just the pure immaturity that we see on a daily basis and the inability to accept delayed gratification.

Take this example. One person is trying to read the newspaper, another person is talking. Newspaper person slaps the hand of the other person. This other person happens to have an infected finger which starts bleeding. Infected person comes to the counter cradling their bleeding hand saying "she hit me", "kick her out", "if you don't do something I will". I get them to run their hand underwater, they try and convince me that the slap created a huge problem for their hand and refuse to listen to the fact that if pus is draining out now that it was preexisting and the slap didn't make that happen. Yeah right. Eventually, after we refuse to do anything except tell the two to work out their own problems (they're on again off again dating), infection man goes off to sulk in the back and newspaper girl goes on to insult someone else. We do eventually wind up kicking out newspaper girl, but only because she was antagonizing everyone.

Scenario two: The heating system. People are sitting in the drop in playing cards...directly under the fan. Complainer starts whining that it's too cold, and that they'll get pneumonia from the fan being on. I look at the fans, they're all on low and the temperature is set above room temperature so I don't do anything. Complainers asks to talk to my boss. I tell her no. I mean for goodness sakes, it's the fans. Person two starts saying how moving air is bad for people with diabetes... umm? Then my boss walks through and complainer starts freaking out going on and on about how horrible I am and how horrible the fans are. My boss doesn't even look at the fan settings, he just listens to their complaints and leaves again.

Scenario three: Multiple times each day I wind up giving out clothes to people who wet themselves while drunk. Sometimes I don't have time at right that moment, sometimes I simply don't have any pants to fit them. This can lead to screaming, yelling and temper tantrums. Because somehow, it is my responsibility to provide for their lack of planning.

See the thing is though, in many ways this immaturity actually makes a great deal of sense. Many of the people in our shelter had really crappy childhoods. Things did not go well for them. They often spent a lot of time hoping in and out of the foster care system, living in a variety of settings including residential schools for some of them. They often lacked consistent, loving, parenting. In some ways, the staff at the shelter become like parents for these people, or at least like family. They look to us for support, guidance and help, and get frustrated when we don't meet their needs the way they want or expect us to. It's a sad reality, but it is a reality. If you never had a childhood, did you get past those childhood challenges?

oh to be a social worker

I am SO sick of the staff at work hating me because I'm a social worker and trying to convince me that I'm horrible because of it. YES, I am a young, white, female social worker! I accept that! But, that's the way things are, and it's not going to change just because you spend a morning arguing about it with me!

I can very much understand the clients dislike of social workers and I rarely share my educational background with them, why bother. I do in some cases, cases in which I feel it would be of benefit to them or to the profession itself (and won't hurt the relationship with the client), but just in general, no. So many of my clients have been SO hurt by social workers in the past. While it's great for them to know that not all social workers are evil, I also do not want to create barriers where there don't have to be any. In some cases, I have to use my education in order to create an atmosphere in which people are willing to talk to me (I look, well, young, like, high school young). People feel more comfortable knowing I'm not just some kid. In some cases, when people know me quite well, it's good to share that to help build their opinion of social workers.

The staff though, the staff seem to have a VERY hard time with the social worker thing. I get it. I really do, but still, it drives me crazy. Many of them have been hurt by social workers in the past as well, and watched the clients get hurt by social workers over and over again. But nothing is that simple and in many cases we personify systemic failure and social worker seems to get the blame. Bah, I say, BAH!

I worked over time yesterday (or was it today?) morning, staying for 4 extra hours because three people called in sick. I was run off my feet. The person I was working with, whose butt I was saving(she was coordinating) spent time trying to convince me about why social workers are horrible. How she knows LOTS of social workers and they're all cold hearted bitches who don't know what they're doing and don't understand where the clients are coming from. How education means absolutely nothing. It got to the point she basically told me that since I hadn't lived on the streets or had an addiction I had no business going into social services. Excuse me?

I may not have lived on the streets, but that's where empathy comes in. I may not have had an addiction to an illicit substance, but that doesn't mean i can't empathize with them! I happen to be quite addicted to caffeine and to my anti-anxiety medication (oh gosh, the withdrawls). I may not have got myself thrown in the drunk tank, but I've done some pretty stupid things in my time. Just because I'm a white female doesn't mean I haven't experienced challenges in my life I've had to overcome, and I would like people to stop assuming that.

I think the opinion of the staff matters to me so much because they are my peers. I want my peers to respect my work, and to relate on a professional level with me. Instead, there is a huge deal of recentment, as many of them are uneducation and have been hurt by social workers and here comes young me with my education, and idealism, and energy (I'm hyper, okay), and management and the clients seem to really like me. I have ideas and theories about things which are new and different...that's not bad, but it's change. And they forget that I already knew many of the clients before I started. I'm not meeting them for the first time.

And that rather awkwardly concludes this rant.

he'll die alone

I'm not sure why I'm writing about death again, except perhaps that it's because I'm surrounded by it. Living on the streets is not easy on the body, nor is the sometimes constant substance use.

Many of the clients I work with, although not all of them, have very little family they are still in contact with (in contrast, some of them have family with them constantly, sleeping on the mat beside them). When this happens, many of them list the shelter as both their home address and their next of kin. The problem is, though we mean a lot to a person, we're not the greatest next of kin, and we for the most part, don't go sit at death beds.

One of my clients is in the hospital on life support. I noticed he was going down hill and referred him to the day staff to see if they could get him in to see a doctor. It seems however that an ambulance found him passed out somewhere and he wound up in the hospital anyway. Now the hospital is looking for his next of kin, to come be with him as he dies, and no one can be found. All we have is a possible apartment building where is brother, whose name we don't know, might live, maybe.

I assume, that most of us, despite our insecurities believe that people would care if we died. There would be someone there, at our bedsides, and we'd leave behind many people to grieve. This man leaves behind no one. Whether there is a funeral will depend on whether there is money, and whether anyone cares enough to organize one. He wasn't one of our more "popular" homeless (and yes, there is definitely such a thing). In the end, life comes down to so little. One moment he'll be alive, the next dead, and that's that. Will he leave a legacy? Who can know, who can know.

office politics

I find that picture incredibly amusing, although I'm not sure it completely relates to what I want to write about.

My favourite supervisor is leaving the night shift. My awesome, yet very old and very in need of moving to days supervisor, is moving to days. It is a very good thing, for him, and for the day shift. For me however, it sucks, because the enforcer is likely going to be in charge five nights a week from now on. This does not exactly make me "happy". In fact, it scares me, but I'm trying to go into things with an open mind. If I expect it to be bad, it will be bad, so I'm going to try and make the best of it. I may eventually have to sit down and try to talk things out with him though. The guy's been at the shelter longer then I've been alive though, so he is "always right".

There are so many politics at play in my workplace. For example, the job I wanted, the social work position? The manager of that department also applied, she wants to work directly with clients again. Of course she got it, I had no chance. My union pointed out to me that I can file a grievence because as management she wasn't in the union and I was... as if I'm going to do that. I might get the job, but the whole place would hate me. And then there's the whole senority thing. It really doesn't matter how good a person is at anything, it's all about seniority. From what I can see, all the union does is make things confusing. But, I don't know enough about unions to make a lot of comments about ours.

I need to eat something, and get ready for work. I'm fairly sure the enforcer is off tonight, so I'm feeling like tonight is going to be great. In fact, no matter what, I am going to have a great night, and then go to yoga in the morning. And when I come home, the newest Grey's Anatomy (my guilty girly pleasure) had better be ready for download... i'm waiting, and waiting, and waiting... sigh.

dear person at the door

Dear Person at the Door,

The shelter is full, I apologize for that, I wish I didn't have to turn you away, but I do. Getting mad at me will not change the fact that we are full, I refuse to let you make your housing crisis into my crisis. Asking me "where am I supposed to sleep then", will also not magically open up more beds in the shelter here or anywhere else. If you wish to sleep inside our building you'll need to get there before eight pm, we've been filling up earlier and earlier each night.

You're from out of town you say? I'm sorry to hear that, but it still doesn't change the fact that we don't have any more space. My question to you, is why you came to the city knowing that you had no place to stay. You came for medical treatment you say? You missed your flight back you say? That does not change the fact that there are no mats left in the shelter.

Your offer to sleep on the floor shows me your desperation, but it does not affect the outcome of the situation. I still cannot let you in. We are required to keep the aisle ways clear. Many people have seizures or other medical problems and the paramedics have to be able to roll their stretcher in and have clear access to the person.

No matter how much you scream, how much you swear, and how much you bang on the window, I cannot let you in. I will not tell you that it breaks my heart to see you standing there in the pouring rain, because if it did, I couldn't do my job. I know I seem cold, rude, and distant, but this is what enables me to keep going each night and provide services to so many. I will tell you however, that I do care, and if there was something I could do, I would do it.

I encourage you to see our staff in the morning, one of them can sit down with you and help you make a plan to find more suitable and stable housing, or to get back home. If it's your addiction that's keeping you on the street, I encourage you to seek detox, to take some time to get clean and make plans. It's getting cold out, I don't want to see you freeze to death, and I'm sure you don't either.

Although I cannot help you tonight, other then to tell you the other shelters are full as well, I really do care about your suffering. I will continue to do my job, as well as to advocate for change on a larger scale. As I pursue social justice, I will continue to highlight your plight and fight for legislation and programs which will be of benefit to you.

The fact remains though, that tonight, in this moment, I cannot give you a place to stay. And it sucks. But it's what I have to do.

From

The girl behind the window.

merciful death

One of my clients died on Monday. An older woman, although certainly not old by Western standards... old for the street though. She likely died of alcohol or drug related causes, they'll be no autopsy, it doesn't really matter after all.

This woman lived on and off the street for a number of years, various family members and friends took her in at various times, but always she returned to the street and to the shelter. Even when she had a place to go, she could often be found drinking on the curb and then crashing in the shelter with her friend.

Her health was horrible, she weighed next to nothing, and had a hard time ambulating. Even with her walker, watching her, you were also concerned she just wouldn't quite make it across the street. She had lice recently, the worse case you can imagine. It was literally eating her alive before she noticed and sought treatment for her "sore head". Staff treated her but wound up cutting most of her hair out because the mats were so thick. At one point a piece of her scalp ripped off, she just didn't feel the pain.

Knowing she's not here anymore, knowing she is no longer wandering the streets, drinking constantly and sleeping on the ground, well, it doesn't make me sad. I'm sad that her life had to end the way it did, alone, in a hospital, picked up off the street in a random place she didn't usually frequent, but I'm not sad that it ended. I'm sad that her life did not improve, and that she died on the streets she lived on. She was planning on coming to detox, and starting to get her life turned around. Now she'll never have that chance. That, that, I'm sad about. But that she's no longer suffering? For that, I am grateful.