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When you work in the helping professions, it is possible to
have had meaningful contact with thousands of people. The
work becomes a great part of your identity even if you have
a healthy personal life outside the office. Whether you live
in a sprawling suburb, a small town (there are still a few),
or in a rural area, you lose some of your privacy. Somebody,
somewhere, sometime is always going to recognize you as the
one who helped them.
You may also
find yourself unwittingly or conscientiously using your free
time to reinforce your knowledge and skills: reading
professional literature, attending seminars, browsing the
bookstores, thinking about a difficult case, and reflecting
on your career.
One thing that
attracted me to social work was that it gave me a way to look
at life. It provides explanations for human behavior and
events. I have a mind that likes to dig down to the roots of
things, and social work gave me a sturdy pail and shovel. It
relieved me of the burden of punishing the guilty: I can leave
that up to the justice system. It spared me the holiness of
saving souls: I can leave that up to the religious
denominations. Social work seemed totally fascinating,
evolving, and liberating. Or, so I thought.
I never expected
social work to follow me around so much, and even to ambush
me. Sometimes I feel like the profession has claimed too much
of my life. Here's an example. A couple of weekends ago I
went to a yard sale. Of course, I headed for the table with
the books. If I can find a good book for 50 cents or a dollar,
I feel like I have found a hidden treasure. As I searched
through stacks of books, there it was, an old copy of
Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. This copy had been
published in January, 1990 (or the 43rd printing). The most
recent copy of this book was published in April, 2001 (or the
62nd printing).
For those of
you not familiar with Alcoholics Anonymous, this book contains
the standards of self-help and recovery. "A.A.'s
Twelve Steps are a group of principles, spiritual in their
nature, which, if practiced as a way of life, can expel the
obsession to drink and enable the sufferer to become happily
and usefully whole." That is a powerful statement which
I accept because I have seen it work for many of my patients.
I am a firm believer in the Twelve Steps. (I also support
other approaches so long as sobriety is the result.)
The lady
conducting the yard sale told me there had been a few other
Alcoholics Anonymous publications in the stack. Twelve
Steps and Twelve Traditions was the last one left. The
social worker in me wondered about the wellbeing of the people
who donated the books to the sale, as well as the people who
bought the other books. What did it mean? Did someone give
up on their recovery? Did a family member find the books
lying around collecting dust? Were the books bought by
someone needing to hear the A.A. message of hope, strength
and experience?
I could not
resist buying it. The lady was selling books at three for a
dollar. So, I bought Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions,
and two novels. Although it has some coffee stains on the
cover, the book is perfect inside. It does not really appear
ever to have been read. I know that I will find a good use
for it. The book will continue its journey until it finds
itself in the hands of a serious reader.
I had gone to
the yard sale to relax and look around, which I did. But I
also ended up with a responsibility to, in my own way, carry
the message of recovery to others. Step Twelve reads,
"Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these
steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to
practice these principles in all our affairs." This is
a lofty statement and the culmination of the Twelve Step
process. Perhaps the person who donated the book was doing
his Twelfth Step work by trying to plant the seeds of sobriety
in someone's life.
Of course, I
could have left Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions
where it was and bought three novels instead. Perhaps I have
some tendency toward concepts of fate or destiny. Perhaps I
accept that the book, all of the books, were there waiting for
each buyer to become a link in the human chain of helpfulness.
Life would be
less complicated if I did not feel drawn to involve myself as
a link in the world's drama, but also less adventurous and
whole. I had to buy the book. Three books for a
dollar: two for me and one to help restore someone's life.
Reading the two novels will be all the more satisfying.
(Written 12/02/02)
Until we meet
again....... .......stay sane.
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