Life with social workers

I’m a social worker. So is my husband. We graduated with the same degree in undergrad and graduate school yet we have vastly different jobs. Chris works for the VA and deals with homeless veterans with addiction and mental health issues. I work on the other side of the spectrum and am employed by a mental health agency but my office is in an elementary school. I have my own caseload of kids I am required to assess, diagnose if appropriate, and provide services.

So how does this marriage of social workers play out after a hard day of social work work? Typically one of us...or just me...vents about the day and the frustrations of not having "Brat, Pain in the Butt, Liar, Bully, and a variety of other than less than complimentary but sadly accurate descriptions listed in the Diagnostic Handbook. Instead, I am stuck with ADHD, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Anxiety, Depression, etc... How limiting!!!

And on the treatment plan I am required to create, I find it a bit binding to not be allowed to give certain thick skulled kids a swift kick in the pants on a weekly (or daily) basis. It might really help a few of these youngsters. Instead I am required to actually talk to them.

Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love my job. It does have its challenging days and that is where Chris comes in. He understands my need to be un-politically correct for a few minutes. He gets it when I need to make less than sensitive comments since I have spent the last nine hours being sensitive to everyone I come into contact with. This is just a tiny bit of my husband that I couldn’t live without. If I didn’t have it, I am not sure I could be nearly as effective a social worker I like to think I am for the kids. Hopefully I provide the same sort of support for him in his times of un-PCness because when we need to vent, it is like the saying, when it rains, it pours…and boy can it pour in our house.