Since I was a kid, helping people has been my specialty. I learned about empathy at a young age from my neighbor in the apartment next door, the green one with all the magnets strewn about. She was my safe haven and still is. I could talk to her about anything; she understood me and made me feel like an equal, despite our sixty-plus-year age difference. She was objective in her listening, making sure to understand everything from my perspective without just telling me her opinion and what to do. In her position, she could’ve told me what to do and I would’ve listened, since I knew a little twelve-year-old wouldn’t know better than the wise Elva. And yet, she empowered me, making sure I felt as though I could tackle the problem myself. She gave me the strength to do whatever needed to be done. She taught me how important it is to care about people other than myself. This concept was revolutionary to little old me—who would’ve thought that everybody around me had their own problems? As an only child, it was a bit hard at first to understand that the world didn’t revolve around me. But as time went on and I grew older, I not only understood that everybody had their own perspective, but it became the first thing I tried to understand before thinking about my own.
When I was twelve years old, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. The only clue I had about what my future career would entail was helping as many people as I could. This initially led me to education, but after I started seriously pursuing it in college, I realized that it wasn’t where I was meant to be. I loved the feeling of tutoring my peers, but it was much more exciting to see that I was making a difference, not just repeating content. It was the empowerment that moved me, assuring my peers they had it in them to do well on that exam or to write that essay that they were struggling with.
During my sophomore year of college, I stumbled upon social work. It fits me like a glove. I feel at home taking all of these classes. It feels like I’m standing in front of that green door with all the magnets, knocking and waiting for Elva to open the door. She may not have been a social worker, but she taught me the core values before I even knew what the word meant. I learned about service and empathy, and how to truly understand other people’s struggles even if I hadn’t experienced them myself. The dignity and worth of the person are so valuable. It doesn’t matter who the person is, they are still a person and deserve to be treated like one. Elva never treated me like a kid, she treated me like a person. No matter how silly the struggle I brought her, she was always eager to help. With social work, I get to do what I’ve always wanted—help others.
I’ve never really struggled with any of the concepts involved in social work, except one. Self-care. I care so deeply about the struggles of other people, and yet when it comes to myself, I have not a single drop of empathy. I put others’ needs above my own and I always have. And yet, my mind blanked when my professor asked us about our favorite forms of self care as an icebreaker. One of my love languages is quality time, but it's always quality time with another person, never myself. Is it really self care if it doesn’t involve me alone?
I used to love reading as a kid—I’d hide books in my desk during class and read while the teacher taught spelling. Now, reading has become a form of isolation, lacking that same warm feeling I now yearn for. Listening to music is self-care, right? Not when I only listen to music while doing something else or to mute my thoughts as I walk to class or go about my day. I used to love crafting, but now I simply don’t have the time or resources to start or even finish a fun project.
All of this leads me to question the necessity of self-care. Is it truly necessary to care for myself if I can still find ways to care for others? Sure, self-care is important for other people, but if I’ve survived this long without it, why should I even start? Where would I even start? It’s especially difficult when there are so many guidelines on the dos and don’ts of the job as a social worker, yet no instructional section on how to take care of yourself.
As of right now, I don’t particularly have a go-to form of self-care when I probably should. Social work is the business of helping people, and as my professors always say, you can’t help others until you help yourself. But what if helping others is exactly what I need to help myself? I’ll get there. For now, I’m just going to say my favorite form of self-care is surrounding myself with the people that make me feel loved. And I’ll try my damn hardest to make sure those people feel loved too.
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