Carla

Chapter 2

Mary

Can someone please remind me why I chose this line of work again? Why did I want to be a social worker?  Not for the pay, that's for sure.  Oh yes, I wanted to help people. Then why do I feel so helpless?

I was going to make a difference, I was going to save the world one family at a time. But I was woefully unprepared. They don't tell you in college what it's like to do a home visit to find animal feces in the house. College doesn't prepare for the family that doesn't have water, who has to get it from the neighbor's house so that they can use the toilet properly. 

Oh sure, they do tell you in school about the cycle of poverty in Appalachia. But you don't really believe it until you see it. And people don't believe you when you tell them about it. "People don't really live like that, this is the 21st century!" And "Everyone has a cell phone so why wouldn't they have water and electricity?"

But you know what hurts the most?  Working with families who don't want your help.  I take for granted that I grew up in a home where "just good enough" was anything but.  But these people, they just want a check, that's all.  Not what I signed up for.

And I can't confide in anyone. No one understands. I mean, who can I talk to? Not my burned out co-workers, they don't want to hear it. They each have their own caseload to deal with. Not my mom, who warned me about social work and would love to say "I told you so." My friends? I love them but they're more interested in "The Real Housewives" on tv than the real housewives of Appalachia.

Then there's Chad. He's really great, I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend. He listens and he tries to be sympathetic. But after a while, he has that glazed look in his eyes and it's time to change the subject. But at least he tries.

What do you do when you realize your career choice isn't all it's cracked up to be?