Sometimes I reflect that social workers must either be superhuman, or robotic in order to function. To use the self as a professional, be fully congruent, yet not allow the self's experience and emotions to spill over.
It is a wistful kind of sadness- delayed and projected grieves mingled with the joy of knowing these people and God. (Much as I can value independence and fun at the expense of others, my top primary goods are relationships and purpose okay.)
Anyways, right after I typed this during lunch I had a session with a youth whom I basically said "Sorry social workers are not superhuman I can't read your thoughts" when he expressed that he sometimes wished I could just read his mind. And he complimented me twice: (1) For expressing how people cope with emotions through their own means even if it is a stupid way to others (e.g. self-harm), and (2) For being the first person to not focus on school, while the rest are really concerned about his attendance. #providence :')
On a tangentially related note (oh craps I must switch my mind to not think in such complex sentences when in groupwork), I have been reading George Macdonald's children books. Devoured The Princess and the Goblin within 1.5 days, and intentionally slowing down with The Princess and Curdie so that I can savour his magic.
If it is just the craft of storytelling, I would be much less enthralled. It was really how he marvelously weaves in the wonder and beauty, hardness of heart and gloom, into these stories meant for children.
"There is this difference between the growth of some human beings and that of others: in the one case it is a continuous dying, in the other a continuous resurrection... The boy should enclose and keep, as his life, the old child at the heart of him, and never let it go. He must still, to be a right man, be his mother's darling, and more, his father's pride, and more. The child is not meant to die, but to be forever fresh born."
- The Princess and Curdie