#thebadsocialworker

[thebadsocialworker]

Don't dive into shallow water

It’s a great day to be mentally ill. It’s 45 degrees in the sun, 8 AM crackhead time, and it’s time for the morning traffic report. Thanks for listening, I’m your host the Bad Social Worker.

“What the caterpillar calls the end, the world calls a butterfly” -Chuang Tzu

This post today is for anyone that’s on the edge- getting sober, calling your local crisis center for the first time, starting medications for the first time, getting a significant diagnosis of a mental illness…anyone that’s sitting on the cliff of the final days of familiarity staring into the abyss of uncertainty below.

It’s the end, isn’t it friend? The end of you as you know it. You know it too. That’s why you’re here, weighing your options. Whatever you have going on, has gotten so unbearable, so close to you, that you’re considering taking a leap into the abyss below, hoping it’s deep enough that when your body meets the water, the depths absorb you and your entirety.

That’s the beautiful thing about transition. You meet transition in the worst shape you’ve ever been in, but that’s exactly how transition expects you. “Come as you are”, there’s no dress code here. Bring every ounce of trouble you have to your name.

Transition welcomes it all. Transition fears nothing. Scream, cry, wail- Transition will hold you safely. Transition will show up for you every morning with the rise of the sun and she will be there for you until you’ve finished crying yourself to sleep at night. And she will cradle you while you dream.

In my field, I meet a lot of people experiencing their “firsts”. Their first time being hospitalized, their first time experiencing a psychotic break, the first time they’ve ever been diagnosed, the first time in their lives they’ve had to take medication, their first brushes with death…

People tell me they’re scared. They’re scared to take medication because they’re afraid it will “change who they are”. They’re afraid or unable to accept they’re developing schizophrenia which will require a lifetime of maintenance to control. People are afraid to go inpatient. Afraid to become sober. People think they’d rather die instead.

What I ask of these people, if you’re at the worst point in your life to the extent that you no longer want to produce thoughts, how could it get worse? You have nothing to lose because you’ve already lost yourself in whatever is haunting you. I know you’ve lost yourself, because you don’t even want to be “you” anymore. 

When people leap into the abyss of an uncertain future as opposed to a certain death, it feels like they’re falling. To the world watching, it’s the greatest and most graceful dive of all time. You’re an olympian of your own life. What you feel is the end, is a new beginning. Cocoon yourself during this time. Be absolutely gentle and preserve your peace. You’re going to be the only one that understands what you’re going through, and the only one to protect it. 

So take that first. End your current chapter.  Quit drinking and smoking. Block your racist grandma and take your anti-depressants on time. 

-thebadsocialworker

[thebadsocialworker]

7. Yes

Today I had a meeting with someone in prison. They're on the other side of the country in some shitty city so it was via "the internet". Our meeting today was mostly about paperwork. He was completing a questionnaire for my records.

"AJ, the next question is, have you ever felt like your family members or the adults around you didn't love you or thought you were special."

He stared at the corner of the screen, it was silent for about 6 seconds.

"...Yes."

We continued, but this sat with me all day. This man's life has been marred with adversity in almost every way you could think of. He's about 45. There was something about seeing a grown man that's been shot, shot other people, and has seen other people get shot, confirm that he did not feel loved or special when he was a child. He was sitting in a typical prison room with stale cement brick in an ugly beige color and thick windows of glass behind him. I wonder about all the times he felt like that as a child and how many times he's thought of it since then.

This came up again when I visited someone else. We talked about their housing options and they said "[]...yeah so they accept criminals and shit so that's good for me." I asked them, "Is that what you think you are ? A criminal ?" They explained that they didn't, but that they have to think about it all of the time in relation to where they go during the day. They then grabbed something to show me. It was a folder of certificates and a card their last facility gave them when they moved. Inside of the card were many people remarking on how funny they are. They said they keep this under their mattress and they pull it out sometimes to look at. Inside I thought, you probably think of yourself as a bad person so you look at this to feel differently.

While I was driving in the snow I thought about how people complain sometimes about prison sentences being too light. Sometimes they're insultingly light. Other times, it's a substantial amount of time. Beyond their release, they suffer. Before any of this happened, they suffered. Many people regret victimizing someone and they pay for it everyday. They don't regret it because they're paying for it, but rather it's a stain on their self-perception. People change. People learn. People mature. People get sober and medicated. They're proud of the progress they've made but it's always followed with a "I know I did _____ but..." They never feel like they deserve to fully acknowledge they're a different person. They feel haunted by the negative voices in their heads that remind them, they beat their wife once, they used to be a skinhead, they robbed someone to buy drugs, etc.

I've done some shit, but never anything I couldn't have fixed. I can't imagine what it's like-- one day you've never been to prison, and then one day it has been 20 years later, you're homeless, in and out of jail for not paying child support, and every person you meet will generally find out you did something totally fucked up-- that you wouldn't do now, but you never feel like anyone believes you. That perpetual feeling as if you have to prove to your stupid fucking community that you deserve to be in it. They're forever shackled.

If you've ever done some shit you wouldn't do now, that's fuckin awesome. You're allowed to change and to admit you would do better now. This obviously applies to me too. My people never know I say things to them that I know I should say to myself, but I don't. It's kind of joke with myself and whatever powers that may be (hail Satan). Don't let a lack of self-forgiveness wear you out. We're all little devils sometimes.

-thebadsocialworker

[thebadsocialworker]

I met my next client at his home. 100346NE HWY 64. It was a small lot of land carved out of the forest off of the interstate. There was a small metal camper, two cars, and some kind of work shed with a tarp over it. One of the cars was obviously dead and had been parked for sometime. The car looked like it was melting into the earth. The other car was a white hatchback at least two decades old. The sideview mirror was cracked and there were half torn bumper stickers on the back.

I walked to the front of the camper and knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again, no answer. The third time is always the charm. "Mon DIEU..." i hear banging around in the camper, causing it to shift. The door opens.

There stands a tall, thin shirtless man of about 50. He apologizes in French and the closes the door. It opens a minute later and he had a sweatshirt on. The front of it had "1977" in big letters. He put the hood up over his cropped, greying hair. His hands, long and bony, covered in welding scars and burns.

"Come in, please, please." I stepped inside. The camper was largely bare of any decor or objects. There was an ashtray, a small TV, and a stack of paper plates on the counter.

"You're are my new case manager, no ? ___________?" I agreed that was me, and my name. "Oui, I remember being told this...you would be coming." He apologized, "My english...only so good, no?" He laughed.

"And you are ? Mathieu? Am I saying that right?" "Oui, oui. Yeah that is good."

Mathieu was a jovial man. He had dark circles underneath his glowing blue eyes. Stubble, an aquiline nose, and a tattoo on the side of his neck, "jessy". Faded by now, but it's was vivid in more ways than one, once.

Mathieu and I sat down in the front seats of the camper so he could roll down the window and smoke. I ask him to tell me about his life. (He delivered the following answer in both French and English, but for your convenience, I will write it in English.)

"What is there to tell? I have been out for ehhhh...one year? A year and some months. I did time in ______________ on the west. I work as a welder for industrial machinery used for, the forests. I have a girlfriend, Willow...I don't know what else." Mathieu blows a cloud of smoke out the window.

"OK Mathieu, can you tell me a little bit about your sobriety ? How's that journey been for you ?" He let out a sigh and a laugh. "Oh no! Naughty eh?" He threw the cigarette out the window in a defeated manner, stretched himself out and yawned.

"Oui, so I always used a little, cocaine and marijuana as a teenager. Alcohol of course. I started working, doing labor, mining for iron, no? I injured my back, needed the surgery, and then they gave me pain medication, eh. After long time, they stop giving them to me, but my back is still in so much pain, eh...friend of mine gives me some heroin. He told me, it would help so I could still work. And I did no ? For some years..."

Mathieu's face shifted from somber to smiling, "and i know you have read the rest, no? So you don't need me to tell you eh?" Mathieu laughed and then pulled his hoodie up to hide in it as a joke. He turned the camper on to run the heat.

Mathieu did 15 years in prison. He claims to be sober currently.

"Mathieu, we don't have to get into all of that other stuff now. We will talk about it, probably the next time I see you. I like to warn people to be prepared for emotionally stressful appointments."

I pulled out "the packet". "Mon dieu, another one?" Mathieu jokes. "Yes, so you already know what this is ?"

"...oui." Mathieu is trying to be serious, but I can see he wants joke about this further.

"Just look through it, and think about it. Answer some of the questions if you can."

"I should give you my old one from prison no? Could you even tell uh ?" He lights another cigarette. "I won't, i won't. I'm joking."

I explained that I will see Mathieu again next week. He agreed and walked me through the camper to the door. When I stepped outside, I saw a rabbit hop into the broken window of his hatchback. He must have seen it too,

"Merde ! Get the fuck...Get!" While cursing in French, Mathieu turned back into the camper and came back out with a pool net. In his French ranting he says:

"Don't shit in my car ! Don't shit! Fucking rabbit! Get the fuck out of my car you're going to shit! I will catch you this time!"

I didn't stay to watch. I got into my car and drove away to meet my next client.

[thebadsocialworker]

Cooked, Like an Egg

I sat down at cold table in a government building. The door the the right of me opened and man about the age of 72 stepped in. 

He was a beast of a man. About 6’4 and 300 something lbs. He was bald, with a glass eye, and no teeth. As he sat in the chair across from me, he sighed. When he landed in the chair, the impact created a cloud of dust that escaped from the seat pad. 

I introduced myself and my new role in his life. I asked him to tell me about himself. It was one of the most loaded questions I have ever unknowingly asked.

“Not much to know, my name’s Jean-Roger. I go by John. Spent 20 years in federal prison. Then I moved up here when they let me go.” John had a perma-frown. “I’m blind too, left-eye.” John pointed to his very obvious glass eye. His glass eye was misshapen and lacked an iris and pupil. It was somewhat yellow, indicating he has had the same glass eye for possibly decades, stained by the cigarette smoke as it wafted near his eye-socket.

“Did you read my file?” I agreed, I had read his file. 

John was born in 1953 to a couple down South who managed a local bar. One of the only bars around for miles. John reports they were raging alcoholics, regularly beating on each other after closing the bar. These arguments would start when they got home around 4 AM. John would get up for school a couple hours later, with his parents typically passing out sometime after he left. By the time he would get home from school, the house would be dark, his parents were gone at the bar.

John was an only child. Too scared to use the bathroom alone, he started peeing down the floor vents in the home. As he got older, this behavior ceased, but he stopped staying in the home alone. He started to meet up with his friends or invite them over to his empty house. His grades dropped, and he ultimately dropped out of school at 13. “I never looked back. Fuck school.” Spit flying out of his mouth.

“So what would you do with your friends, when your parents weren’t home?” Almost immediately he said “Got into trouble! We chased the cats around and used to spy on the wife down the street.” he laughed about this and made a gesture indicating the woman they spied on had large breasts.

“So what else? I see you were first arrested when you were 16?” 

“Yeah ! For PEEPING! I went to jerk off in the bush alone by that lady’s window. Apparently, she already had a feeling that she was being watched. She turned out the lights in the bathroom and I guess she could see someone through the glass. Her husband snuck out and caught me right before I was going to, you know. After that I was known as a “little pervert” around town.” His glass eye moved a little bit and I thought it was going to fall onto the table. He must have felt it too, because he popped himself in the eye real quick with his palm.

“it almost fell out, fuckin piece of shit. My celly made this for me.” It took everything in my being not to say “I can tell.”

“How did you get that?” His face dropped unpleasantly. “Some fucker burned me in the eye with a hot spoon when I was in jail because I stole his dope. Cooked my eye like an egg. In the jail they offered me a patch or some wooden piece I could stick in it. But the wood was dry and irritating so I wore a patch for awhile. I eventually got to federal prison. After about a year, my celly made me this. I don’t know what the fuck it’s made out of. It used to have an actual eye on it but the paint wore off. I don’t know why.” 

I looked a little closer and while it appears to be glass, now I actually wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter.

“Any more questions? How often do I see you? Do you have a car?”  “Not for now, 1-3 times a week, and yes. Not my own car, but yes, I have a car.” 

Technically, it’s an old beat up truck but it fairs well in the environment. Back up north I used ATV’s other ways of getting around “the tundra”. I won’t probably have my own personal car for some time.

I slid a packet of papers across the table. “This is your homework for this week. It seems stupid, but just kind of…read through it, answer any of the exercises you can, and we will go over it together throughout the course of our relationship.”

“Relationship…” He smiled. “Yes, our WORKING relationship John.” He waved and turned his head. “Ahhhhh, too old huh? I’m just kidding.” He had one arm on the table and one hanging in his lap. His arms were so big and long, they were only about a foot from the floor. He wore dirty jeans, and dirty work boots. He had suspenders that were digging into his thermal shirt, belly slightly exposed. The thermal shirt hqd what appeared to be beer stains on it.

He asked again what he was supposed to do with the packet. “Just take a look at it and fill in-“ 

“AHH. I remember, okay, okay, read the papers.” 

“Yes.”

John stood up from the table, pulling his shirt down. He grabbed the packet and folded it. He attempted to cram it into his back pocket but it was too thick. He unfolded it and rolled it up instead like a manuscript. “Ok, au revoir, what was your name again? Tatiana?”

“No, it’s ________”. I have no idea where he got “Tatiana” from. “Okay okay.” John walked to the door and left the room. I watched him in the parking lot approach his truck. He promptly opened it and flung the packet into the passenger seat. After a few tries, his truck started and he drove away into the forest.

On the floor by his chair was a card. It must have fallen out when he pulled the packet out of his back pocket. I picked it up and turned it around. It was a gas club card with four punches in it. It expired the last November.

[thebadsocialworker]

some people cling

to religion

to guide them

without it

they don't know

how to be

civil, otherwise.

[thebadsocialworker]

Maryanne, Anonymous

It was the year 2008. I was still working at a telephone help line near the airport in the town I was living in. I watched planes fly in and fly out while I encouraged people not to kill themselves. To give it another day. A plane takes off and my eyes follow through the glass as the wailing party on the other line grew louder. Some days were quieter than others.

I was working an overnight shift in the office. It was a very quiet evening, only about 1 call every 2 hours. "Must be the weather" I said to myself, watching planes take off and playing solitaire.

My headset vibrated "Hello ? This is _________. How can I help you today?". The person hung up the phone almost immediately. I went to look at the call log on the phone to find a callback number. Nothing. Anonymous. Fuck.

The phone rang again after 10 minutes and I answered it again. This time, I got a voice ! "Hello?"... "Yes, hello..." It was an older woman. She was sniffling. I asked her name. "Maryann, with an E." I asked if I could have a last name or a call back number for her in the event we became disconnected. She vehemently declined, "I don't want any trace of this coming back to me".

"Ok, what is going on tonight? Do you want to talk to me about it?" I asked her, gently, not wanting her to hang up the phone until I could ensure her well-being. She let out a scoff, sniffled, blew her nose, and then said "well, here goes nothing".

Maryanne with an E tells me she is in her 80s, with a chronic illness she developed in her 30's, that has now progressed enough that she is expected to die within the year or into the mid part of next year (2009, 2010- at the time). "Oh God, Maryanne, I'm so sorry." She blew her nose again. "I just want to tell someone before it's too late."

"My father, who was a prominent member of the community, sexually abused me and my sisters for decades until one of them killed herself. "Bonnie, my younger sister, she didn't live past 17. My mom and dad told everyone she died from pneumonia...suicide was not seen as the same thing then as it is now. Plus, my Dad didn't want anyone digging to find out why she killed herself. Mom was scared, she knew what was happening, but he threatened to kill her on so many occasions, I don't think it ever even crossed her mind to betray him...well, in her mind it was 'betrayal'. I never had any children, I was infertile by the end of it all. I always wanted children...you probably know my father, everyone knows my father, even the kids. That's why I can't give you my last name. It would ruin the generations beyond my sisters and I if any of their children, or grand-children ever found out how some of them were conceived...but I had to tell someone. To say it out loud knowing I'm going to see God soon."

I was shocked, it's not that I haven't heard something like this before, but it was truly unexpected at the time. In other words, it was heavy shit for a Tuesday night in April. I attempted to offer emotional support to Maryanne, she stopped me "Oh honey, he was a rat bastard and dog, I know it wasn't my fault." She reiterated the importance of saying this out loud before she passed. I asked if she had any plans to harm herself, or others: "No, no", she blew her nose again, "There's no more harm to do, thank you" and she hung up the phone.

I saw a couple planes land and I lost my game of solitaire. This woman is long gone now, I still have no true idea who she was, and to be fair, I never looked. She never told me how many sisters she had, but I know at least two of them are prodding their father's ass in hell by now. Good for them.

Maryanne, in 2008 didn't anticipate the development of DNA tests for the public, and I often wonder if her secret has been revealed in the absence of her life. One that she hid under lock and key until she was looking down the barrel of a terminal illness. Death, the only thing more powerful than her father's reign and destruction. Maryanne found safety and peace knowing she was going to die within the year and that her father could never harm her again. However, given her age, I'm assuming he's dead anyways, and it further illustrates the bindings from beyond the grave that abusers have on their victims.

I started a new solitaire game and tried to forget what had just happened, not out of negligence but out of sheer existential conflict. There was nothing I could do to help this woman, she is dying and finds peace in that fact. My job at the time required me to promote what is essentially 'longevity' as opposed to 'quality' but that is an entirely painful philosophical discussion for another post.

I never ended up winning solitaire that night, I think I was just dealt a bad hand.

[thebadsocialworker]

I have officially moved into my new cabin. It is still snowy and cold, but it's nice to be in the forest after close to 2 years of tundra.

I decided I want to tell some stories for awhile, about my clients. I have a new caseload ready for me on the first of february. I think it might make a difference in your lives to hear your own parallels among others. We aren't alone here, we just think we are from time to time.

Happy New Year, friends.

[thebadsocialworker]

Leaving the Tundra

“The Tao is called the Great Mother: empty yet inexhaustible, it gives birth to infinity worlds. It is always present within you and you may use it whichever way you please.” -Tao Te Ching, 5

It’s been a violent winter where I live. I haven’t had internet again for a month or so. 

New year, new assignment. I’m moving ! I’m leaving the tundra near the end of the month. I’m moving south of where I am to another rural, and massively forested area. The winters are not so violent, and I shouldn’t have anymore internet interruptions at my new cabin.  I haven’t seen an abundance of trees in close to two years.

Alas, this will be the last post discussing Dao. We are moving on to another philosopher in the next post. 

The quote from the Tao Te Ching is incredibly appropriate for this last post. Here are some of the things we’ve learned from Dao over the last year:

-Inaction as action. Existentially, this limits the repercussions you put out into the world. On earth, this reminds to “let God handle it” and to stay out of jail. 

-Your perspective rules your world. If you perceive people to be useless pieces of shit, they will be. If you perceive yourself to be less than others, you will be. Every human being has something to offer society, it is up to you to see this. People can help assist you to consider another perspective, but it is up to you to fully believe in it.

-Material possessions will never fulfill you greater than inner peace.

-Inner peace comes from acceptance of the circumstances you cannot change; acceptance that you are only a single person who can only do so much; acceptance of yourself and all of your perceived shortcomings-internal or external. Finally, the ability to adapt to change when it is beyond your control, as protest against stagnant energy and internal turmoil that comes with feeling powerless.

-Also, belly breathing. It feels good, do it.

Finally, this last quote merely reminds you that all you’ve learned here is inside of you. Congruent with Dao, your action or inaction, is always your choice to make, at any time.

Do with this, as you wish.

I have personally benefitted from learning about Dao and will likely continue the practice in my personal life. I find this school of thought to be most beneficial for people with BPD, anger, GAD, and PTSD.  It helps balance the extremes people with these conditions. It also helps tolerate the uncertainty and stress in life for those of us that have experienced victimization in some facet or another.

Next time you hear from me, I’ll be swinging in the trees like Tarzan (in a parka).

-thebadsocialworker

[thebadsocialworker]

Population: 256

Have you ever been drunk ? Have you ever felt the burn of vodka in your throat and the subsequent numbing to the bitter cold of the world around you? Have you ever stumbled through your back door to watch the tile swivel beneath you ? 

Have you ever woken up next to a coral colored toilet in a motel room? The maid pounding on the door, everyone has left and you’re stranded in a vacation town in the off season?

Did you drink and fall in love with life again only to vomit it back up until the acid of reality stained your shirt?

“If you over esteem great men, people become powerless. If you overvalue possessions, people begin to steal” -The Tao, chapter 3.

Come in, we paid for another night and our ride will be here in the morning.

Over-esteeming “great men” until people become powerless. We’ve talked about this before, but I’ll summarize the concept here: When we put people on a pedestal it’s not only distorting reality regarding that person and their importance but it’s painful when they don’t fulfill the role we believed they would. They never do, because the person you’re imagining in your head is under your control and operates within your schemata. The reality is that this other person has free will, you cannot control them, and their life experiences are completely different than yours, resulting in someone who will behave in likely opposite ways that make sense to you.

In addition to this, when we believe people are greater than us, we remove our agency in the relationship. We may hope this person “chooses” us. If you have that hope, you’re already pre-disposed to this being very traumatic for you when you are “not chosen”. In reflection, this type of thinking is submissive and has the greater potential to be abused. You’re so desperate to be “chosen” out of belief you are not worthy, you will accept behaviors that are hurtful to you more often than not. The ultimate fear is that you will be abandoned. The only way to solve this cycle is to orient oneself to the reality of human beings:

They more often than not will not do what you want them to do.

Pivoting from this point, is when you believe only a select few are “great”, you blind yourself to the great people around you.

“If you over-value possessions, people begin to steal”.

This holds the same sentiment as the the half of this quote, yet it refers to inanimate objects. Think of it like this: 

A cellphone in the year 1850 is useless. If someone left it in the dirt, it would stay there until it was fossilized. 

A cellphone in the year 2024, left in a bathroom at a bar, is most likely to be stolen. 

A kitchen full of spices in 2024 remains untouched in a burglary, yet there was a time where obtaining cooking spices was so important, entire countries were invaded and populations enslaved. 

When objects lack relativity, they lack importance. Society has worked for centuries to provide us with our various technologies, none of which would be useful in a different context. Think about that, centuries of science and development to create the internet whose importance varies on where it is in time and space.

When we over-value possessions, it distorts our reality. We become unsatisfied without it. We may even develop complex ideas about ourselves when we do not “own” a common object. As a society, we have taken this concept so far, that material possessions borders on moral good. 

To have, is to be good, to be without, is to be bad. And if you’re bad, you do not deserve the same things I have, as a good person. Shelter, food, and water are no longer universal rights, you must deserve them in the eyes of society. We don’t look at our systems as faulty, we look at each other with blame. 

People are desperate for food, water, and shelter, yeah. But people are really desperate to feel good. To be deserving. To be on the pedestal. To be important. When we are desperate, we behave like feral animals, tapping into our most primitive forms of feeling.

There are lessons within the paragraphs here, but there is one more that encompasses them all:

 Ultimately, when we do not view reality in balance, our realities become distorted, and we behave in ways that are not congruent with who we truly are (or want to be). We readily give away our power over reality only to be whipped around in the tornado of distortion and identity. 

Classically, the Dao suggests “practice not-doing, and all will fall into place”. In this case, inaction would be acknowledging the distortions, not trying to fight them, but to reflect upon their presence as a skylight into what sleeps below.

To tie it up all nicely, over-valuing facets of life alters your reality in the same way wormwood will alter where you wake up in the morning. Stop drinking (metaphorically, but for some of you, literally!)

When you hop into your uber tomorrow morning, give a little wink at the cleaning lady, for she is God, and so are you, friend.

[thebadsocialworker]

Do You Ever Listen to Yourself?

Here's a break from the Dao. I want to explain something:

"You can't love anyone until you love yourself" - Everyone around you that doesn't have a mental illness

People spit this one out all the time and do not actually understand the harm this statement causes people who chronically struggle with, what is essentially, liking yourself.

You remember when you were very young, and the thought of disliking or liking yourself didn't even occur to you. This is still true for people who tell vomit this statement up in your deepest time of need. They don't even have the conflict in the first place, let alone understand it, nor understand what this statement actually means.

What this statement actually translates to is this:

If you struggle with loving yourself it will be harder to love others freely. Assuming you struggle with liking yourself, you have a higher potential to struggle with issues within your relationships that may not be as prominent in relationships between two non-traumatized individuals.

However, even THEY are not immune to relationship issues. Their issues are just largely, a lot less colorful and interesting. It's boring things like "I don't know why he won't tell me what's bothering him, he just goes to play video games after work."

Your problems may look like struggling not to look at their friend's list to gauge who is better looking than you, who this person TRULY wants (which is never you right, even when they say it). You fight a compulsion born out of trauma to stalk their social media pages. You know enough that doing so will likely exacerbate your stress, and could possibly initiate a fight, or just carrying the general fear that you will do something to harm the relationship. You end up looking and feel some relief from caving in, but now you feel worse. You find out his ex-girlfriend from 8th grade is still friends with him on facebook. She's married with children, but you KNOW he wishes he could be with her, and at any moment, he will leave you for her.

And here it goes. And then in your mind, as bright as Broadway in the middle of January, "YOU WILL NEVER LOVE ANYONE BECAUSE YOU CAN'T LOVE YOURSELF, AND DON'T KNOW HOW OR WHAT THIS EVEN MEANS. BUT YOU'RE FUCKED."

It doesn't need to get that extreme. You can certainly value and love others when you struggle with liking yourself. You're also lovable. People do love you. Love is like water, it takes any form it needs to, to exist.

So go forth, love like crazy (literally).

-thebadsocialworker

[thebadsocialworker]

Demons chased me so I hid among the devils of others, knowing they'd never find me amongst them.

-thebadsocialworker

[thebadsocialworker]

Bad 2 the Bone

I haven’t posted in awhile because the weather knocked out my internet. There were metres of snow coving the road, finally today it slicked into ice, and I was able to restore my internet.

Back to our scheduled programming.

“When people see some things as beautiful, other things become ugly. When people see some things as good, other things become bad.” -Tao Te Ching, Chapter 2.

You’re int he passenger seat being driven by someone else. You stare out the window, but then you see, “the house”. You’re listening, but not to the person talking to you, you’re listening to drone of memories pouring into your conscience.

“The house”. You know what I’m talking about. That place. That place you can still smell. You remember the vomit in the sink and the cigarette burns on the wood floor in the corner of the living room. You think about all the people that have cried on that floor since it was installed in 1973. A tattered house that once held joyous families in its prime, but today, only holds secrets in the walls.

12 years ago, this house meant freedom. You danced barefoot in the bathroom with a bottle of rum at 19. You slept on the floor with the mice because it was too hot out. The holes in the walls let in spiders. Pot pies in the freezer, nothing in the refrigerator except a bottle of mustard. Polish Vodka sits on top of the TV and you don’t notice the change in your dad’s face when he picks you up. You’re too busy smoking a cigarette with your eyes closed.

You didn’t care what you didn’t have because you were so hungry to feed your demons and greet the world with your bloodshot eyes. Your friend’s already losing teeth, and no one has a job. There’s coke on the table from a bag someone’s cousin from out of town left after he got too drunk and had to go to the ER.

You eventually moved out. You got a job that led to another, and now here you are. Older, sober, in therapy, and taking acid reflux medications from the cigarettes burning a whole in your esophagus. 

Your friend’s cousin ended up dying a year later from alcohol poisoning. Your roommate moved back home to Philadelphia and doesn’t have a phone anymore. Your Dad’s hair is grey now, and your brother doesn’t talk to you anymore. That girl you danced with in the bathroom has 2 kids now and takes Suboxone. She can’t taste anything anymore.

The gold has worn into nickel.

You feel such shame every time you see the house. You feel disgusted and dirty. You feel even worse remembering your friends. People today trust you, they value you. You hide yourself out of habit. You’re a bad person, and they just don’t know it, they can’t know it.

You harbor this fear all day until you step into your house and feel a sense of relief. You can now be bad at home, alone, where you know you won’t be able to hurt anyone with your existence. Your dog loves you, but they shouldn’t. You’re too bad. You tell yourself “He only loves me because I feed him”. You sleep on the couch sometimes, not even good enough to sleep in your bed. You just don’t care.

Your younger self accepted things out of defeat. That house that meant so much to you during a time of explosive expression, disgusts you now. Your friends, the ones that are still alive, make you uncomfortable when you see them at the gas station. You don’t even know who they’re talking about when they ask you if you remember that “one night”. 

You’re conflicted. The people around you now, would never have talked to you 10 years ago. You’re not good enough for them, but they can’t know. They can’t know you went to therapy and got sober. They can’t know that you put in the emotional labor to consistently go to work everyday. They don’t know how much your palms sweat when you smell burning plastic. If they did, they would know, you’re a “bad person”. An imposter. 

You plead with yourself, “I’m different now. I’m good.” 

So what is “good” ? And what is “bad?” And why do we struggle with this after significantly changing our lives for the better ?

In a philosophical sense, these are merely subjective constructs that are reinforced by culture and more specifically, religion. Biologically, “good” and “bad” can be defined as either pro-social or anti-social behavior. Pro-social behavior being acts that perpetuate the existence of the human race. I.e., helping come up with a solution for a disease, donating food, helping an older person cross the street. 

Anti-social behaviors being acts that would contribute to the cessation of the human race. I.e., murder, violence, capitalizing on basic needs, eliminating social support programs, war, etc. It stems from the theory that human beings have been able to survive thus far due to our sense of empathy. We are not large predators. Babies have been proven to die if they’re not taken care of, or even touched. Humans are the only species that has to teach their young how to be human. 

So in theory, in the simplest form. If we were not empathetic, we would not have helped or saved others from danger. We would not care about our young nor spend the time caring for them. They certainly would be vulnerable to apex predators in pre-historic time. If there are no babies, there’s no future. So, therefore, it is empathy that has largely supported our existence up until this time. You can learn more about this if you look into Noam Chomsky and his theories. I digress.

The problem is, exactly that “good” and “bad” are subjective adjectives that are applied to facets of life inappropriately, due to culture and religion. You are at the mercy of the external influences around you. Along the road, somewhere, you were taught for whatever reason, that you’re “bad”. “Bad” gets applied often to things better described as “different” because it “deviates” from the norm. Even the word “deviate” suggests not conforming to the “established norm” is immoral. 

Even further, we have used good and bad to design the pillars of society. In theory, the “norm” represents stability, while “different” represents “instability”. Theoretically, it is the “norm” that will attract the least amount of abnormal experiences, thus being referred to as “the norm”. Instability presents uncertainty which in turn causes anxiety.

So, are you different ? Was your life different ? Are you “bad” because you deviated from the norm, whether that was a choice or yours or not ? You know you’re not a bad person, but “bad” feels like the only way to describe what you do feel. What you feel, is anxiety about being different, and people finding out that you “deviated from the norm resulting in unstable situations that have contributed to your current personality. 

In some cultures, the concepts of “good” and “bad” don’t even exist. There are only choices and mistakes with the above mentioned adjectives only existing to cause grief or harm. These beliefs do not assume that human beings are inherently “sinners”, rather a part of nature. 

Here is an example: A cow runs away from an enclosed farm. It is “bad”. It is only “bad” because of the existence of the farm. If the farm did not exist, the cow would simply be traveling from place to place. It is neither bad nor good, it just is and does as it does. If the cow moves to a field that doesn’t have as much grass, it is not “bad”, it is simply a mistake, and the cow moves on to find another field. 

The opposite can be said as well. Say a cow breaks into another farm and is eating the grass in the pen. Even though it is enclosed on a farm, this is “bad” because the “cow does not belong” on this farm. Even though in the prior situation, having the cow in an enclosed area is considered “good”, in this case, it is considered “bad” effectively illustrating the subjectiveness of these concepts.

So where do you fit ? How do you fix this and start feeling like a “good” person ? My answer pays respects to the very concept of Dao. You do not occupy either concepts. You are a neutral entity that makes choices that either lead to a resolution or simply, more choices. We do make mistakes, sometimes we repeat them, and eventually, we do not. 

When you’re consumed with feeling “good” or “bad” you limit your choices and ultimately stagnate your learning. These concepts are ultimate in that they are black or white, You are either a “good” person or a “bad” person, essentially making them impossible attainments given nothing in life is black or white, further exampled by the cow. The feeling of failure sets in, every time.

Let go of your past actions as being either good or bad, and allowing them to determine what you deserve now, in the present. These concepts are inherently meaningless in regards to your journey on earth. You were never bad and you’ll never be good. You simply exist as you are now.

Congruent with Dao, you don’t have to do anything. There is no act that you will ever complete that will make you feel entirely “good” as the concept suggests. The secret is to let go, and to exist naturally. Making decisions based on what you know to be true today, and not placing judgment on what you used to accept, and why it may not be acceptable now, and if it makes you “good” or “bad” that it is not a choice you would or would not make today.

Instead of thinking “Wow that was really bad, I’m a bad person, I used to live in motel rooms snorting ketamine and doing sex work, I don’t deserve this” The thought is more “that choice would not serve me today nor the goals I want to meet”. In this thought formula, you free yourself from the cage you’ve been trying to escape from. There is no longer good or bad, there is simply, choice that brings you closer to a resolution, or to other choices.

So this time, when you drive past “the house”, it’s no longer good or bad, simply a space you occupied one time, that you no longer do and will never again. 

Bringing this back to earth, clinically, if you think you’re a bad person it’s usually indicative of trauma where being either “good” or “bad” pertained to how safe you were going to be in that given context. Therapy can help with this, because if you are reminded enough of the new way you want to think, you will eventually think that way without prompting. It takes time, but that’s all we have here. What are you doing otherwise?

-thebadsocialworker

[thebadsocialworker]

To Ham, or Not to Ham ?

It's snowing feelings out there, better stay inside so you don't get cold.

"He who talks more is sooner exhausted" -Lao Tzu

So this is somewhat impossible to understand out of context, so you have to read the full verse. Basically, this quote is about the concept of "wu wei" in Dao. Wu wei can roughly be described as "effortless action". If you want to know more about Dao, google it at work.

I interpreted this quote as relating to the concept of inaction as action (Dao), mental health, and our reactions to stimuli. This quote is for the hot heads, the borderlines, the traumatized... any of you that feel like you need to stay at home to avoid going to jail, whether jokingly, or more literally.

How many of us have reactions to things out of fear of doing nothing and what that means. How many of us have experienced injustices as children that were let go, not addressed, never apologized for? Bullied kids who didn't fight back but wish they had. Children that grew into adults that react violently, react harshly, or even just erratically. It's because we have a distorted understanding of inaction.

Whatever happened to you, it resulted in you carrying a resentment towards the people that hurt you and the people (or even yourself) who were supposed to protect you. It doesn't matter how you end up with this feeling, the point is that you have it. You felt as if "no one did anything to help me; nothing happened to the person that hurt me."

This is how you learned that "doing nothing" is worse than doing literally anything else, including things that are destructive to us. Some people are also put in positions where their inaction towards an offense could affect how they're treated in a more amplified setting such as prison, in schools, etc. It all stems from the fear that inaction will attract further harm to us.

Integrating this concept of wu wei, inaction in this sense would be the goal. Neutrally stating, you don't need to put in any effort as doing such would continue to create further actions in the universe experienced beyond you and the stimuli. When applied to the year of 2024 and its reality:

At the most extreme, your action results in the traumatization of others- murder, abuse, r*pe, physical harm. Actions that create further actions that are not beneficial or natural. Extreme effort. At the other end of the spectrum, is complete non-action. You do nothing, it is "effortless". Some of us get close but still engage in actions that are palpable to others, perhaps hardly, but still felt.

Hardly ever do our most extreme reactions satisfy us. Rarely do they not hurt us in some capacity, internally or externally. Think of it less of someone "did" something to me, and more "I could also alter the course of nature at this time as this person has also done."

Sometimes, we react to people that don't even deserve the reaction, they're rude to us and don't even know us. It's then that we make take this personally due to our numerous experiences in life that have already sensitized us to being disrespected. People we may know deeply might also hurt us. It still doesn't mean they deserve the effort in perpetrating an extreme action.

People don't deserve the effort because it is impossible not to be harmed yourself in the process, when exacting a reaction. Non-action carries only the connotations you believe in. Inaction as a response doesn't mean anything other than not further altering the natural course of the universe in a way you may not be able to fix.

I know this is all easier said than done. Let me remind you that personal growth while you're alive cannot be rushed, it shouldn't be rushed. There are many spaces for mistakes and the same amount for contemplation. Every effort you put in no matter how small you feel it is, is never wasted, because you're investing in yourself.

-thebadsocialworker

[thebadsocialworker]

I want to start a collection of the comments I've heard from nurses:

"Well, it's your license so whatever"

"Well if you're gonna be screaming for you parent in the er, guess you shouldn't hit em"

"Oh so it's OK for him to bite me then?"

Some good ones, I'll get more.

-thebadsocialworker

[thebadsocialworker]

I'm back, and worse than ever<3

"Whether you're a gem in the royal court or a stone on the common path, if you accept your part with humility the glory of the universe will be yours" -Lao Tzu

Let me preface this by saying, this isn’t mental health advice, merely a a reflection that hopefully serves as a glimpse to the other side for people that struggle consistently with mental health. All disorders are welcome here. But this isn’t a TikTok page. This isn’t entertaining. This isn’t fake. This isn’t a zone for glorification, this is a quiet space for people to read when they’re alone and feel they can’t share some of their inner most thoughts with the people around them. Come stay with me for awhile.

I want to talk about this quote as it relates to mental health and my position as a morally grey clinician.

This quote basically says “when you accept your position in life, you are not bound by the distraction of wanting to be something different than yourself, things become possible that were not previously available to you. Lao Tzu makes an interesting statement “whether you’re a gem or a stone”. Some people make take away from this that there are two classes of human beings, those that are “gems” and those that are not. This isn’t the point he’s trying to make and if you think about it deeper, a much more encompassing thought occurs-

In my job, I encounter people from all positions in the spectrum of human existence. I encounter people that appear to be “gems” in society; privileged, educated, wealthy. I encounter the “stones” who are truly, never stones. All people are dynamic and fascinating. Mental health doesn’t discriminate, it affects everyone. Thus, the gems and the stones in this concept, are the same.

Depending on your temperament, you’ll either agree, we are all stones, or all gems. The point is that we are equal and this is supported by the vast afflictions of mental health issues globally. It’s not congruent to think, others are gems, and I am a stone, if we are all human. Even gems die. Gems bleed. They cry alone too sometimes. There is no true division. We are united in secret by the things we do not discuss. 

Do you see how this quote is like a clever trick ? When you contemplate it, you realize you can accept your position in life because you’re actually not truly different from others you perceive to be in higher positions than you. You’ll only get caught up if your values aren’t sorted- money, power, material things. Of course we all tend to care about these things, but perhaps you’re perpetuating your own feelings of inadequacy. This is just a gentle prompting to think about the things that matter to you the most- experiences, feelings, people- and if you’re living in a way to honor those values.

Do the things you chase after set you free or do they entangle you ?

As a clinician, I see no distinction between “gems” and “stones”. So many concerns you think are personal to you, are spoken by strangers to me. People generally worry that they’re “bad people”, that they’re “crazy”, they don’t know what the purpose of their lives are, people miss their loved ones they don’t talk to anymore, people don’t get enough sleep, people hope for forgiveness- a softness that the world doesn’t have anymore. It’s thoughts like these that tell me, we are connected together even in our darkest fears.

The porchlight is always on here,

-Thebadsocialworker

[thebadsocialworker]

About Me

You're probably looking at this page like, "what the fuck is this ?"

Yeah, ok, let me introduce myself.

I'm a young, mixed social worker. I live in a medium sized city somewhere very, very cold. I'm highly educated but there was a time when I wasn't allowed on school property or I would be arrested. My past before I was 18 was extremely traumatic and shady. I almost died multiple times, by my own hand and by the hands of others. I've seen murders--all kinds of fucked up shit. I lived in one of the most violent places, in one of the most violent neighborhoods in the country for 10 years as an artist and chef before I fell into this life. It's been a wild ride.

My coworkers are yt women that have only ever lived in yt, suburban places. They've evidently never been victims of anything because of their overarching expressions of empathy and advocacy for the forensic clients I work with. I'm a survivor of a brutal rape and assault and I entered this field to throw the fucking book at rapists, chomos, and people that hit women (Yeah, I'm a woman, surprise).

I knew what I was getting into when I took the job. I knew I would be face to face with people who have done abhorrent things and I would be tasked with showing them empathy, understanding, and helping them progress into productive and mentally well members of society. I knew this would fuck me up being the victim of a crime that the DOJ didn't pursue because apparently smoking weed as a teenager makes your rape and violent beating invalid. I know I'm not the only one that will feel the burning in their face when they read that. I didn't care, I wanted the privilege of working with severely mentally ill people who have super fucked up criminal histories.

See, I would just be a detective but I don't want to spend like 5 years doing petty shit like drug arrests. I don't care about that shit. Plus, I smoke copious amounts of marijuana and have for decades. It's illegal where I live. I don't give a fuck. Fuck the government.

Anyways, you're probably starting to see why this blog is called what it is. I had a 4 point in graduate school. I was high for every research paper I wrote. I have a criminal history myself, yet here I am. Pretending every day that I have never-ending empathy and compassion like my co-workers, like I don't think some people are wastes of biological material, like there shouldn't be prisons, like there aren't any "true" sociopaths-that there's good in everyone. My clients love me, I'll do pretty much anything I can to help them. I'm true to my word.

but I hate people and I'm a nihilist. It's a double life. My future is in research. One day, you might buy one of my books and have no idea I used to run a shitty mental health blog full of nihilism and chaos in the early 20's.

Anyways, one of my clients tonight got stabbed. They're fine but it's been a fucked up day and I need to smoke a blunt and go to bed.

Thanks for reading this shit, I'll check in tomorrow, and probably have something unsettling to tell you.

-thebadsocialworker