Connectedness...

I believe that all human beings are connected on a level that we don’t even realize.  Whatever our backgrounds, the country we were born in, our politics, our religion…we are one.  We act like we aren’t.  But we are.   I really do walk through life with that attitude overall.  Except when I am battling this quaint notion that I am alone.  Working with my clients truly brought out my ’connectedness’.  I enjoyed my work, and was good at it, because I recognized the humanity of my clients.  They were human beings to me…not just cases.  A person, not just a visit that I had to accomplish by a certain deadline.   I tell you these stories because of how they touched me.  And they did.  I took their stories into my heart.

When I worked with the HIV program, we started doing HIV testing at one point.  We would do a cheek swab and send it off.  Then we would get the results.  And as the only Case Manager, I was in charge of giving the news to the person tested.  I was terrified. Who on earth wants to give that kind of news to another human being?  I only did it a couple of times.  But I will always remember how it felt.  Whatever caused the person to be in that position, I was very aware of the ramifications of the news.  HIV isn’t always a death sentence.  I know people living many years with the diagnosis.  But it is the first thing you think of when you get the diagnosis.  I am going to die. I remember watching the reaction of one guy.  He knew it.  He had been sleeping with an HIV + partner without protection.  So, he was kind of resigned.  We created a plan.  Talked about getting him medical care.  We discussed some of the realities of the disease and diagnosis.  But he seemed very subdued and almost submissive.  I was getting a lot of “Yes, Ma’am” kinds of responses.  I was very good at suspending judgment in my work.  I could be there with my client.  So, I just accepted.  And I was with him.  I cared, but I didn’t need to change his reaction. I loved him through it.  And in that situation, I felt a deep connection with this man.  Who was really not a whole lot like me.  He was a different race.  And we came from a different background.  But we were human.  We were facing a frightening situation together. I also felt that connectedness with my mentally ill clients.  Whatever their background and wherever they came from.   I could see what the underlying emotion was.  I could relate to having pain in your life.  And I used that ability to empathize to create that connection.  For me, that was an amazing gift.  When I think about these people, I recognize how my life has been enriched.  

After I moved away from Nashville, I ended my social service career.  And I went on with life. One time, S. and I took a trip to Nashville to see my daughter.  And I showed him the parts of the city that had meaning to me.  I always loved downtown Nashville.  So, that was an obvious place to visit.  We took a walk so I could show him the things I enjoyed.  And Printer’s Alley was one of those things.  As we walked, a former client came out of a restaurant that I used to go to in the morning  before I went to work at the batterer’s treatment program.  And she rushed up to me to say hello. This young woman had been one of my ‘goofier’ clients.   She was always in trouble in one way or the other. She was homeless because she made her support system crazy and they had to ask her to leave.  I don’t remember actually solving her problems before I moved to Florida.  But I was working towards it.  And in spite of her difficulties, I remember that I loved her.

When she grabbed me on the street in Nashville, she was so excited.  She wanted to know where I was working and if she could visit.  She told me how well she was doing and that she had a job.  I have to admit that she looked good.  She was well-dressed and looked healthy.  And she was smiling.  But obviously, I live in Florida.  So, I could just get my hug and wish her well.  It was a touching visit.  And something that has happened for me over and over.  Because of confidentiality, I usually didn’t acknowledge a client unless they said something first.  But many times they did.  I would see them on the street.  Or out somewhere.  And I would get a smile, and an “I know you”.  And many a ‘thank you’.  I have always thought that whenever I die, I can die at peace, because I have touched lives. 

In the case of my Mom, I don’t know how well I did in terms of recognizing connectedness.  This is strange, since I am directly connected to her.  She carried me for 9 months.  She gave me life.  I disconnected because I didn’t want to SEE my connection to her.  It was too painful.  Until I began to understand the connection.  And now I am feeling that connection in the deepest core of my being.  Writing has helped with that.  I am realizing how that lack of connectedness was a denial of myself.  Of the person I am.  And who I am capable of being.

Do you recognize your connection with your mentally ill relative?  Are you proud of that connection or do you choose to deny it?  Do you carry shame about that connection?  Asking and answering these questions will help you move forward. I promise.