BURNOUT: YOUR HEALING PRESENCE MATTERS

This is an insightful passage in “Burnout And Self-Care In Social Work: A Guidebook For Students And Those In Mental Health And Related Professions — 2nd Edition.” by Sarakay Smullens  

 

— What Is Burnout? A Case Study

The inability to share our work with friends and loved ones and our own lack of awareness of the professional and personal cost of the inhumane violations we witness can lead to isolation, exhaustion, and hopelessness. An example follows from work with Connie, a second-year MSW student, placed in a prison setting for her fieldwork:

In her first year of graduate school, Connie excelled in both her academic work and her work with clients. However, as skilled as she was, certain cases in her second year of training caused her to feel ill and repulsed. During this period, Connie developed an ongoing skin condition that she had not had before graduate school. For reasons her doctors could not determine, large pustules began to erupt all over her arms.

Connie considered dropping out of graduate school. An English major in college, she was offered a job in a highly regarded public relations firm. It was an unsolicited offer, made by one of her former English professors who now worked in the firm. The job was described as “draining and pressured, but fun and lucrative.” Only the first half of this description seemed to apply to what awaited her as a social worker! Still, Connie decided to persist with her MSW degree and a placement that she knew would continue to ask a great deal of her. During her field placement in prison, Connie was assigned a client who was accused not only of embezzlement but also of killing his wife so that he could marry his mistress. James faced the death penalty. Connie was expected to work with him throughout her second year and then to return to the prison following graduation (as partial payment toward the scholarship and living stipend she had received from the center that employed her).

James had become very close to a priest who visited the prison weekly, and through this trusted relationship, Connie was assigned as James’s social worker. There was always a guard with Connie during her time with James, but he was a kind and discreet one, who liked James and was as unobtrusive as possible during their biweekly meetings. In their work together, Connie learned that James had been abandoned by his father when his mother was pregnant with him. She also learned that James’ mother was a drug-addicted prostitute who at times tried to be clean but could not maintain sobriety of any sort. Her pimp was a ruthless monster, but was the only available father figure during James’s formative years. In James’s words:

I learned everything awful from him, including how to treat women, but at least he was there. No one else was. He often made me scram- bled eggs for breakfast. No one else ever did that, and on the days I went to school, he was the one who took me. Then after school, he and I would have catches. This was the only fun I ever knew as a kid.

Not all inmates on death row become introspective. Obviously, some become more hardened, furious, and bitter, taking no responsibility for their actions. Some claim their innocence throughout their internment. And as we know from the latest DNA investigations and new, refined research, some are truly innocent, and their arrest, internment, and death are a travesty. But none of these examples was the case with James. He knew that all he had done was vile, and he was deeply sorry. He had no doubt that the kindness and love shown him by the priest made this self-reflection, assessment, and attempts at repentance possible. In his words, “Father John was the first man in my life to be kind and decent in every aspect of his dealings with others.” James added, “Plus, Father brought Connie into my world, and she has been a blessing.”

With Connie as his social worker, James was able to recount all of his ruthless horror; and Connie learned, through superb supervision, to listen, care, and show the compassion that only she and Father John had ever given to James. She learned the importance of a coping strategy her professors and supervisor referred to as “compassionate judgment.” In her words, “What James did was awful, horrific, but during his most important formative years, ‘awful and horrific’ was all he knew.”

There were many appeals to save James’s life, and Father John and Connie always wrote and testified on his behalf, but James would not be spared. In the second year of Connie’s employment at the prison, James died in the electric chair. Father John and Connie were allowed to be with him for an hour before his walk to the death chamber. They promised to look right at him through the glass as he took his final breath. And they did.

Through this work with James, Connie grew to understand that in her future as a social worker she would not be able to erase the horrors many of her clients faced as children or their full impact. What she could do, however, was provide a healing presence to her clients. She could be there with them, hear and understand them, believe in them, and advocate for them. Further, through her strong social work relationship with James, Connie forged a new definition of forgiveness that extended well beyond her work with clients. In her words, “I learned the essential difference between ‘to condone’ and ‘to forgive,’ and that one way to forgive is to work hard to understand why people do what they do, as well as how they developed to be the human beings they have become.”

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