You can't save them all....

If I had a penny for every time someone has told me that I'm too attached to my work, or that I care too much about a young person, well I would be rich in money. But instead, I'm rich in life. 

You will have read my blogs about young people changing my life, about why youthwork matters to me, and the importance of participation of young people. This one is more personal, this is about my feelings. 

I went to view a property today, and the estate agent cast judgement on me in one foul swoop "why would you want to do that?"...."you're brave, they're the most difficult age group", in response to my explanation of wanting two bedrooms and two bathrooms, one for me and one for the fostering, with a garden for the puppy. She also commented on how young I was, and asked me why I would want to do that at my age. 

Well, here it is. 

It's because I believe I can save the world. 

Ok, over the last 5 months, I've cried more than normal. I've hidden away in my room and sobbed my heart out. The reason for this, is because I actually adore some of the young people I work with, and it breaks my heart when things don't go well for them. I'm pretty good at holding it all together most of the time, and will never show emotion in front of another professional (unless that person is a friend, of course). I'm very good at being the adult, using my theory based judgements, and advocating what i believe in. I'm less good at detaching myself from positive relationships that I have worked hard to build, based on authentic respect and trust, rather than coercion. 

I've been told by someone (trying to be helpful) that I need to stop caring and leave work at work. He's right, I do need to leave work at work, but if I stopped caring to allow that to happen, then I would be cheating myself. 

I live by the idea that there is good in everyone, and believe that everyone deserves an opportunity and a chance. It is part of my innate being to care. With this, my values are based on helping others, supporting them to succeed.  

Sometimes, however, they don't. 

Sometimes no matter how hard you try, how much effort you put in, how much time you give, sometimes, that person will make their own poor choices, and there is very little that you can do about it. 

But you've got to try haven't you. It's hard to tell with a fresh bunch of people, which ones will work with you, and which ones won't. It's impossible to spot the child that in a years time, will have really needed your support. We can't predict the future. That's why it is important to believe in all of them. 

If your starting point is a negative one, "I can't save them all", then the task of trying to pick one or two becomes overwhelming. 

Whereas, if you say "I can't save them all, but I'm going to give it my bloody best shot" then the possibilities are endless. 

So no, you can't save them all. But that isn't a reason not to try to. 

Saudades

"...is a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return." 

I first came across this word in the country that changed my life: Brazil. It was here that I made some of the best relationships I have, with people from across the globe. 

Saudades was once described as the love that remains after someone is gone. It's that aching, longing, deep sadness that sits in your stomach for weeks, months, years. It's that feeling that you think you crushed, but has secretly been lurking inside of you waiting for a trigger. 

Today I caught the scent of someone's aftershave, and that was that. I went back to that place, with that person, and then had this deep pang of despair as it clicked that they were gone. 

That's the problem isn't it, people can do that to you. 

But we need people. 

Something that has been whirring through my mind today, is that I need someone. Not someone, because I'm desperately seeking love, quite the contrary I have come round to the idea that being a single person is a much easier life, but I need someone to listen to me. Everyone does. 

We all have good days and bad days, and go home to our loved ones and rant about what's gone wrong, who offer sympathy, support, and reassurance. 

I had a brief text conversation with someone earlier, seeking reassurance, and all I got was a cold hearted response, telling me to sort it out. Not the kind of nurture and care that I give to people, therefore not the kind I appreciate in return. But who is there for single people to turn to, I mean, I'm fairly limited on people I can just go and visit and cry to, drinking copious amounts of tea. That's not because I don't have good friends, because trust me, I do. It's because they are busy getting on with life, and it's just not the same is it - maybe I miss that intense social relationship that I had with ex partners who might have nursed my emotional state at times like this. 

Allegedly it is better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all. But if you don't know what you're missing, then you don't have the hurt? I'm not one for many relationships, I can count all my exes on 1 hand. The reason for this is because I don't cope well with the pain, the saudades that is left when inevitably things do not work out, and I get that phone call "we need to talk" (or worse). 

Someone told me yesterday that being single was awful, but it's not all bad. Ok I don't have anyone to pour my heart out to, or to snuggle into whilst I sob, or to wrap myself up in. But I do have independence. I am powered under my own steam. If I screw up, it's only me involved. 

But independance isn't a substitute for human contact and care. On Saturday I didn't speak to anyone between 9am and 8pm. For someone who thrives on attention and socialising,  this was not a good day for me. I've got a lot of stored up grief that I'm carrying around, and I need desperately to offload it - but there's no one there, and when there's no one there, what can you do? 

So in my vulnerable state, when I caught this smell earlier, all I wanted to do was fall into this persons arms and cry. There was this deep feeling of being broken, and wanting to be hugged back together to make everything ok. (I didn't, for the record I pumped the music up loud in the car, and drove off with tears rolling down my cheeks).

But it's not like that in real life. People walk in, and people walk out. You rarely get a say on what happens, but have to deal with the aftermath yourself. 

This is true across all relationships, family members, work colleagues, partners, children. People come and go. And it hurts. A lot. Especially when you catch a memory that makes you remember that person, and how it left you feeling. 

The thing is, people remember the way you leave them feeling. They might not remember the words you used or the way you looked, but they remember the emotions attached to that moment or that person. 

When someone catches a whiff of your perfume (dolce and gabanna por femme- for any of my admirers that want to buy me some more), how do you want that person to feel? Loved? Cherished? Cared for? Saudades? 

Can you handle me...?

So yesterday I went back to school, and by lunchtime had cried twice and looked at jobs pages. Not because I'm desperately unhappy, but the prospect of another new year and another 200 students to get to know filled me with dread. I genuinely don't know if I can do it again, the fourth year in a row of building new relationships and then letting go after a year. It's tough. It's tough on some of the young people and it's tough on me, because sometimes it's not just a job. 

I've always felt that youthwork has been my vocation, it's not just a way to earn money (because if it is, I am in the wrong career), it's a way of life for me. I live and breathe youthwork. My very values and beliefs are founded upon the great practitioners: A.S Neill, Young, Bowlby. My holiday reading was "The Perception of Self in Everyday Life" - not your usual relaxing book. 

I've been lucky enough to have a very colourful and humbling career so far, and worked with thousands of young people - some of which are transitory relationships, but some of which are true bonds and I have the privilege of being an attachment figure to. Some of these young people come and go with fleeting interventions, but there are a precious few who remain in your life and in your heart throughout your career. 

The reason for this, quite simply, is that they changed my life more than I changed theirs. 

Young people can be fickle, and one minute you're their favourite person in the world, and the next week they have forgotten your name. But even these short interventions have meaning. If you live and breathe what you believe, you can have an impact on a young person with just one meeting. 

If you are lucky enough to have the opportunity to build a meaningful relationship with a young person, then you are on to a winner. When I started youthwork, a colleague gave me two pieces of advice:

1. If you put the time in, you will get it back

2. Keep every piece of feedback that a young person gives you

Well, I have kept every scrap piece of paper and note that a young person has written to me, every card, post it, and drawing are lovingly placed into a scrapbook I keep - in fact I have two full books now. Not only are these the most precious things I own, but they give me real comfort in that I do my job well, and that I'm changing lives which is what I set out to do. 

As for putting the time in, it's amazing what results can be achieved with regular face to face contact and consistency. My values are based on honesty, integrity, and commitment. I always try to see the good in every young person, and sometimes it takes a while for that young person to show you that side, but if you give them the time to get to know you, they will. 

It is a real honour to be able to care for other people's children, and to be trusted with that responsibility. People are quite judgemental of my decision to not have children, and when I tell them my dream is to be a foster carer, they don't all get it. But to me, it would be a real privilege to work with the young people who need my time the most. It's all I've ever wanted, and I am on a mission to get to the point where I can offer my own safe space for a young person to flourish and grow. 

I was chatting late on Saturday night to a friend about my very specific plan, and at the end of my explanation, he stopped and paused, before turning to me and telling me I was amazing. That's the first time I have heard that and listened to it. That same day, a friend whom I respect enormously, told me "I happen to know that a whole lot of kids feel that you are their superhero". 

I've never thought of myself as amazing or a superhero. I've always just stuck to my values and worked to the very best of my ability. I've given young people my time and remained consistent. I've nurtured them and tried to meet their needs, from their starting point. 

One of these same friends shared a poem with me a long time ago, which is pinned to my wall. It is about the relationship between a father and son, but to me it encompasses my work and why I do it:

I feel that the confusion inside of me

My doubts and fears,

Would shock you

If I brought them out.

 

I know you know

All of that exists,

And you know it exists in me,

But you would rather,

Let it all remain anonymous.

 

And so I am alone

With my uncertainty about God,

My preoccupations with sex in a sex-orientated world,

My worries about my education and future,

The ambiguous relationship to you,

And the difficulties with my friends.

 

I know you are afraid to become vulnerable:

You would be embarrassed

To see another side of me

And to show another side of yourself;

And you don’t want our relationship to change

Even though it is phony in parts;

And above all

You want everything to remain predicatable

Because you love your peace too dearly.

 

And so I have very little choice

But to keep everything inside of me

To try to work it out

Alone

 

But if you let me talk,

If you invited me to talk

And could listen

Without being shocked

Without remaining aloof for your protection

Without immediately having all the answers

(even though I think you have answers

And good ones too)

Without playing therole of the knwoing parent,

If you could enter into the process of my life

And be beside me,

Then

That would mark the passage

From father/son to father/friend

And we could see each other in a new way:

 

We would be brothers.

You can be someone's superhero. You can change their lives. Let them change yours, I don't promise it will be easy, but I promise it will be worth it.